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Title: The History of the Indian Revolt and of the Expeditions to Persia, China and Japan 1856-7-8
Author: Dodd, George
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The History of the Indian Revolt and of the Expeditions to Persia, China and Japan 1856-7-8" ***
[Illustration:
INDIA OR HINDOSTAN
Printed in Colours by Shefick & Macfarlane Edinburgh
W. & R. CHAMBERS, LONDON & EDINBURGH
]
THE
HISTORY
OF THE
INDIAN REVOLT
AND OF THE EXPEDITIONS TO
PERSIA, CHINA, AND JAPAN
1856-7-8
WITH
Maps, Plans, and Wood Engravings
[Illustration]
LONDON
W. AND R. CHAMBERS 47 PATERNOSTER ROW
AND HIGH STREET EDINBURGH
1859
[Illustration: PREFACE]
PREFACE
In the present volume is given a narrative of the chief events connected
with one of the most formidable military Revolts on record. These
events—from the first display of insubordination in the beginning of
1857, to the issue of the Royal Proclamation in the later weeks of
1858—form a series full of the romance as well as the wretchedness of
war: irrespective of the causes that may have led to them, or the
reforms which they suggested. The sudden rising of trained native
soldiers in mutiny; the slaughter of officers who to the last moment had
trusted them; the sufferings of gently-nurtured women and children,
while hurrying wildly over burning sands and through thick jungles; and
the heroism displayed amid unspeakable miseries—all tended to give an
extraordinary character to this outbreak. Nor is it less interesting to
trace the operations by which the difficulties were met. The task was
nothing less than that of suppressing insurgency among a native
population of nearly two hundred million souls by a small number of
British soldiers and civilians, most of whom were at vast distances from
the chief region of disaffection, and were grievously deficient in means
of transport.
A chronicle of these events reveals also the striking differences
between various parts of India. While Behar, Oude, Rohilcund, the Doab,
Bundelcund, Malwah, and Rajpootana were rent with anarchy and plunged in
misery, the rest of India was comparatively untouched. Most important,
too, is it to trace the influence of nation, caste, and creed. Why the
Hindoos of the Brahmin and Rajpoot castes rebelled, while those of the
lower castes remained faithful; why the Sikhs and Mussulmans of the
Punjaub shewed so little sympathy with the insurgents; why the Hindoos
of Bengal were so timidly quiet, and those of Hindostan so boldly
violent; why the native armies of Madras and Bombay were so tranquil,
when that of Bengal was so turbulent?—were questions which it behoved
the government to solve, as clues to the character of the governed, and
to the changes of discipline needed. It was a time that brought into
strong relief the peculiarities of the five chief classes of Europeans
in India—Queen’s soldiers, Company’s soldiers, Company’s ‘covenanted’
servants, ‘uncovenanted’ servants, and residents independent of the
Company; and it shewed how nobly these classes forgot their differences
when the honour of the British name and the safety of India were
imperiled.
The history of home affairs during, and in relation to, that period of
struggle, has its own points of interest—shewing in what manner, amid
the stormy conflicts of party, the nation responded to the call for
military aid to India, for pecuniary aid to individual sufferers, and
for a great change in the government of that country.
Although the minor results of the Revolt may be visible to a much later
date, it is considered that the month of November 1858 would furnish a
convenient limit to the present narrative. The government of India had
by that time been changed; the change had been publicly proclaimed
throughout the length and breadth of that empire; the British army in
the east had been so largely augmented as to render the prospects of the
insurgents hopeless; the rebel leaders were gradually tendering their
submission, under the terms of the Royal Proclamation; the skilled
mutinous sepoys had in great proportion been stricken down by battle and
privation; the military operations had become little more than a chasing
of lawless marauders; and the armed men still at large were mostly dupes
of designing leaders, or ruffians whose watchwords were pay and plunder
rather than nationality or patriotism.
The remarkable Expeditions to Persia, China, and Japan are briefly
noticed towards the close of the volume—on account of the links which
connected them with the affairs of India, and of the aspect which they
gave to the influence of England in the east.
Every endeavour has been made, by a careful examination of available
authorities, to render the narrative a truthful one. It is hoped that
the errors are few in number, and that hasty expressions of opinion on
disputed points have in general been avoided. The Work is quite distinct
from the HISTORY OF THE RUSSIAN WAR, issued by the same Publishers; yet
may the two be regarded as companion volumes, relating to the affairs of
England in the east—seeing that a few short months only elapsed between
the close of the events of 1854-5-6 in Turkey, Russia, and Asia Minor,
and the commencement of those of 1856-7-8 in India, Persia, and China.
G. D.
_December 1858._
-----
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Contents]
Contents
INTRODUCTION.
PAGE
INDIA IN 1856: A RETROSPECT, 1
NOTES.—DISTANCES—ORTHOGRAPHY—VOCABULARY, 12, 13
CHAPTER I.
THE ANGLO-INDIAN ARMY AT THE TIME OF THE OUTBREAK, 14
NOTE, 31
CHAPTER II.
SYMPTOMS: CHUPATTIES AND CARTRIDGES, 32
CHAPTER III.
MEERUT, AND THE REBEL-FLIGHT TO DELHI, 48
CHAPTER IV.
DELHI, THE CENTRE OF INDIAN NATIONALITY, 59
CHAPTER V.
THE EVENTFUL ESCAPES FROM DELHI, 69
CHAPTER VI.
LUCKNOW AND THE COURT OF OUDE, 82
CHAPTER VII.
SPREAD OF DISAFFECTION IN MAY, 97
NOTES.—INDIAN RAILWAYS—‘HEADMAN’ OF A VILLAGE, 119
CHAPTER VIII.
TREACHERY AND ATROCITIES AT CAWNPORE, 121
NOTE.—NENA SAHIB’S PROCLAMATIONS, 145
CHAPTER IX.
BENGAL AND THE LOWER GANGES: JUNE, 147
NOTES.—THE OUDE ROYAL FAMILY—CASTES AND CREEDS IN THE INDIAN 161, 162
ARMY,
CHAPTER X.
OUDE, ROHILCUND, AND THE DOAB: JUNE, 163
CHAPTER XI.
CENTRAL REGIONS OF INDIA: JUNE, 176
CHAPTER XII.
EVENTS IN THE PUNJAUB AND SINDE, 191
NOTES.—MILITARY DIVISIONS OF INDIA—ARMIES OF INDIA AT THE 208
COMMENCEMENT OF THE MUTINY,
CHAPTER XIII.
PREPARATIONS: CALCUTTA AND LONDON, 210
NOTE, 227
CHAPTER XIV.
THE SIEGE OF DELHI: JUNE AND JULY, 230
CHAPTER XV.
HAVELOCK’S CAMPAIGN: ALLAHABAD TO LUCKNOW, 247
CHAPTER XVI.
THE DINAPOOR MUTINY, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES, 264
CHAPTER XVII.
MINOR MUTINIES: JULY AND AUGUST, 277
NOTE.—THE BRITISH AT THE MILITARY STATIONS, 293
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE SIEGE OF DELHI: FINAL OPERATIONS, 295
CHAPTER XIX.
THE STORY OF THE LUCKNOW RESIDENCY, 316
NOTE.—BRIGADIER INGLIS’S DISPATCH, 336
CHAPTER XX.
MINOR CONFLICTS: SEPTEMBER AND OCTOBER, 338
CHAPTER XXI.
THE RESCUE AT LUCKNOW, BY SIR COLIN CAMPBELL, 359
NOTE.—CAVANAGH’S ADVENTURE, 371
CHAPTER XXII.
CLOSING EVENTS OF THE YEAR, 374
NOTES.—PROPOSED RE-ORGANISATION OF THE INDIAN ARMY—PROPOSED 386, 387
INQUIRY INTO THE CAUSES OF THE MUTINY,
CHAPTER XXIII.
A SECOND YEAR OF REBELLION, 388
CHAPTER XXIV.
MILITARY OPERATIONS IN FEBRUARY, 398
NOTES.—SIR COLIN CAMPBELL’S ARMY OF OUDE—MOHAMMEDAN REBEL 409, 410
LEADERS,
CHAPTER XXV.
FINAL CONQUEST OF LUCKNOW: MARCH, 412
NOTE.—LUCKNOW PROCLAMATIONS, 427
CHAPTER XXVI.
MINOR EVENTS IN MARCH, 429
NOTES.—‘COVENANTED’ AND ‘UNCOVENANTED’ SERVICE—COLLECTORS AND 443
COLLECTORATES,
CHAPTER XXVII.
DISCUSSIONS ON REBEL PUNISHMENTS, 446
NOTES, 455-461
CHAPTER XXVIII.
MILITARY OPERATIONS IN APRIL, 462
NOTE.—NATIVE POLICE OF INDIA, 480
CHAPTER XXIX.
PROGRESS OF EVENTS IN MAY, 482
NOTE.—TRANSPORT OF TROOPS TO INDIA, 501
CHAPTER XXX.
ROSE’S VICTORIES AT CALPEE AND GWALIOR, 504
CHAPTER XXXI.
STATE OF AFFAIRS AT THE END OF JUNE, 517
NOTE.—QUEEN’S REGIMENTS IN INDIA IN JUNE, 535
CHAPTER XXXII.
GRADUAL PACIFICATION IN THE AUTUMN, 537
CHAPTER XXXIII.
LAST DAYS OF THE EAST INDIA COMPANY’S RULE, 561
SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER.
§ 1. THE PERSIAN EXPEDITION, 1856-7, 578
§ 2. THE CHINESE AND JAPANESE EXPEDITIONS, 1856-7-8, 585
§ 3. ENGLISH PROSPECTS IN THE EAST, 604
APPENDIX.
EAST INDIA COMPANY’S PETITION TO PARLIAMENT, JANUARY 1858, 613
EAST INDIA COMPANY’S OBJECTIONS TO THE FIRST AND SECOND INDIA 618
BILLS: APRIL 1858,
EAST INDIA COMPANY’S OBJECTIONS TO THE THIRD INDIA BILL: JUNE 621
1858,
ABSTRACT OF ACT FOR THE BETTER GOVERNMENT OF INDIA—RECEIVED 622
ROYAL ASSENT AUGUST 2, 1858,
THE INDIAN MUTINY RELIEF FUND, 623
QUEEN VICTORIA’S PROCLAMATION TO THE PRINCES, CHIEFS, AND 623
PEOPLE OF INDIA,
VISCOUNT CANNING’S PROCLAMATION, 624
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE, 625
INDEX, 629
[Illustration]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Delhi, 1
Initial Letter, 1
Tail-piece, 13
Initial Letter, 14
Boats on the Ganges, 19
Palanquin, 21
Indian Domestics, 22
Group of Sepoys, 28
Bungalow, 29
Troops on the March, 30
Initial Letter, 32
VISCOUNT CANNING, 41
Calcutta, 43
Council-house at Calcutta, 47
King’s Palace, Delhi, 48
Initial Letter, 48
Laboratory at Meerut, 55
Dâk Runner, 58
Initial Letter, 59
Bird’s-eye view of Delhi.—From a Coloured Lithograph by A. 64
Maclure; taken from Original Native Drawings,
Howdah of an Indian Prince, 68
King of Delhi, 69
Initial Letter, 69
Escape from Delhi, 73
Delhi from Flagstaff Tower, 76
Elephant and State Howdah, 81
Lucknow, 82
Initial Letter, 82
SIR HENRY LAWRENCE, 92
Residency at Lucknow, 93
Ekah, or Officer’s Travelling Wagon, 96
General View of Calcutta from Fort William, 97
Initial Letter, 97
Ghât on the Ganges, 105
City and Fort of Allahabad, 108
Agra Fort, 109
Nynee Tal—a Refuge for European Fugitives, 116
Palanquin, 120
Parade-ground, Cawnpore, 121
Initial Letter, 121
NENA SAHIB.—From a Picture painted at Bithoor in 1850, by Mr 124
Beechy, Portrait-painter to the King of Oude,
The Intrenchment at Cawnpore, 128
Plan of Sir H. Wheeler’s Intrenchment at Cawnpore.—From an 129
Official Survey,
House at Cawnpore, in which the Women and Children were 141
massacred,
The Well at Cawnpore, 146
House of the Rajah at Allahabad, 147
Initial Letter, 147
Mess-house of the Officers of the 6th Native Infantry at 157
Allahabad,
Sikh Cavalry, 162
Initial Letter, 163
Simla, the Summer Residence of the Governor-general of India, 173
Tomb at Futtehpore Sikri, 175
Initial Letter, 176
Fort of Mhow, 185
Girls at the Ganges, 190
Akali of the Sikhs, 191
Initial Letter, 191
SIR JOHN LAWRENCE, 193
Camel and Rider, 205
Catholic Church, Sirdhana; built by Begum Sumroo, 209
SIR COLIN CAMPBELL, 210
Initial Letter, 210
General View of Madras.—From a Drawing by Thomas Daniell, 216
Bombay.—From a View in the Library of the East India Company, 217
Jumma Musjid, Agra; Mosque built by Shah Jehan in 1656, 229
Initial Letter, 230
SIR HENRY BARNARD, 232
HINDOO RAO’S House—Battery in front, 237
The General and his Staff at the Mosque Picket before Delhi, 240
GENERAL WILSON, 244
Engineer Officers in Battery before Delhi, 245
Bullock-wagon, 246
SIR HENRY HAVELOCK, 247
Initial Letter, 247
Plan of Action near Cawnpore, July 16, 1857, 252
Plan of Action near Bithoor, August 16, 1857, 257
BRIGADIER-GENERAL NEILL, 261
Initial Letter, 264
MAJOR VINCENT EYRE, 265
MR BOYLE’S House at Arrah, defended for seven days against 269
3000 rebels,
Initial Letter, 277
Fort at Agra, from the river Jumna, 281
Mount Aboo—Military Sanatarium in Rajpootana, 292
Native Musicians at a Sepoy Station, 294
BRIGADIER-GENERAL NICHOLSON.—Copied by permission from a 295
Portrait published by Messrs Gambart,
Initial Letter, 295
Jumma Musjid at Delhi.—From a Photograph, 304
CORPORAL BURGESS, blown up at Cashmere Gate, 308
Scene of capture of the Princes of Delhi—Tomb of Emperor 313
Humayoon,
State Palanquin, 315
SIR J. E. W. INGLIS, Defender of Lucknow, 316
Initial Letter, 316
Plan of Residency and part of the City of Lucknow, 321
English Church and Residency at Lucknow—from Officers’ 329
Quarters,
MR COLVIN, Lieutenant-governor of Northwest Provinces, 338
Initial Letter, 338
Camp within the Fort, Agra.—From a Photograph, 349
LIEUTENANT HOME, Bengal Engineers, 352
COLONEL BURN, Military Governor of Delhi, 356
Ruins near Kootub Minar, Delhi, 358
Lucknow, from the Observatory, 359
Initial Letter, 359
Plan of the Residency and its Defences, Lucknow, 362
Plan of Fort of Alum Bagh, near Lucknow, 370
Group of Mahratta Arms.—From the Collection of Sir S. Meyrick, 373
Initial Letter, 374
Plan of the Battle of Cawnpore, December 6, 1857, 379
St James’s Church, Delhi, 384
Tail-piece, 387
COLONEL E. H. GREATHED, 388
Initial Letter, 388
Houses in the Chandnee Chowk, Delhi, 396
Tail-piece, 397
SIR JAMES OUTRAM, 398
Initial Letter, 398
Moulvies, or Mohammedan Religious Teachers, 408
Tail-piece, 411
Goorkhas in their native country, Nepaul, 412
Initial Letter, 412
Gateway of the Emanbarra at Lucknow, 420
MAJOR HODSON, Commandant of Hodson’s Horse, 425
Hindoo Metallic Ornaments, 428
Barrackpore, 429
Initial Letter, 429
Kootub Minar, near Delhi, 436
Obelisk built on the Site of the Black Hole, Calcutta.—From a 441
Drawing in the India House,
Group of Indian Arms, 445
Zemindar, Hindoo Landowner, 446
Initial Letter, 446
East India House, 452
Ganges Transport Boat, 461
JUNG BAHADOOR, of Nepaul, 462
Initial Letter, 462
Goorkha Havildar or Sergeant, 468
Ghazeepore, 471
Fort of Peshawur, 477
Tail-piece, 481
Summer Costumes, Indian Army, 482
Initial Letter, 482
Dacca, 485
Fyzabad, 489
Hindoo Fruit-girl, 493
Tail-piece, 503
SIR HUGH ROSE, 504
Initial Letter, 504
Gwalior, 512
The Ranee of Jhansi, 513
Darjeeling—Hill Sanatarium in Sikkim, 517
Initial Letter, 517
Principal Street in Lucknow, 524
Surat.—From a View in the Library of the East India Company, 528
Lahore, 529
Kolapore, 533
Tail-piece, 536
Initial Letter, 537
Almorah, Hill-station in Kumaon, 537
Interior of Hindoo Rajah’s House, 545
Umritsir, 549
Jeypoor, 556
Poonah, 559
Hyderabad, 560
Government Buildings, Madras.—From a Drawing by Thomas 561
Daniell,
Initial Letter, 561
Old East India House, Leadenhall Street, 574
Calcutta.—Company’s Troops early in the 19th Century, 576
Ormuz—Entrance to the Persian Gulf, 577
Initial Letter, 577
Bushire, 585
Chinese War-junks, 589
Canton, 592
Hong-Kong, 600
SIR EDWARD LUGARD, 604
Fort St George, Madras; in 1780, 608
Tail-pieces, 612, 624
Various Tail-pieces, Vignettes, &c.
Map of India or Hindostan. (Facing Title-page.)
Map of Part of India—Chief Scene of the Mutinies of 1857, 49
Sketch Map to illustrate Havelock’s Operations during July and 289
August, 1857,
Map of Asia, 577
[Illustration: DELHI.]
INTRODUCTION.
INDIA IN 1856: A RETROSPECT.
Scarcely had England recovered from the excitement attendant on the war
with Russia; scarcely had she counted the cost, provided for the
expenditure, reprobated the blunderings, mourned over the sufferings;
scarcely had she struck a balance between the mortifying incapacity of
some of her children, and the Christian heroism of others—when she was
called upon anew to unsheath the sword, and to wage war, not against an
autocrat on this side of the Caspian, but against some of the most
ancient nations in the world. Within a few months, almost within a few
weeks, China, Persia, and India appeared in battle-array against
her—they being the injurers or the injured, according to the bias of
men’s judgments on the matter. It may almost be said that five hundred
millions of human beings became her enemies at once: there are at the
very least this number of inhabitants in the three great Asiatic
empires; and against all, proclamations were issued and armaments fitted
out. Whether the people, the millions, sided more with her or with their
own rulers, is a question that must be settled in relation to each of
those empires separately; but true it is that the small army of England
was called upon suddenly to render services in Asia, so many and varied,
in regions so widely separated, and so far distant from home, that a
power of mobility scarcely less than ubiquity, aided by a strength of
endurance almost more than mortal—could have brought that small force up
to a level with the duties required of it. Considering how small a space
a month is in the life of a nation, we may indeed say that this great
Oriental outbreak was nearly simultaneous in the three regions of Asia.
It was in October 1856 that the long-continued bickerings between the
British and the Chinese at Canton broke out into a flame, and led to the
despatch of military and naval forces from England. It was while the
British admiral was actually engaged in bombarding Canton that the
governor-general of India, acting as viceroy of the Queen of England,
declared war against the Shah of Persia for an infringement of treaty
relating to the city of Herat. And lastly, it was while two British
armaments were engaged in those two regions of warfare, that
disobedience and disbanding began in India, the initial steps to the
most formidable military Revolt, perhaps, the world has ever seen.
The theologian sees, or thinks he sees, the finger of God, the avenging
rod of an All-ruling Providence, in these scenes of blood-shedding: a
punishment on England for not having Christianised the natives of the
East to the full extent of her power. The soldier insists that, as we
gained our influence in the East mainly by the sword, by the sword we
must keep it: permitting no disobedience to our military rule, but at
the same time offending as little as possible against the prejudices of
faith and caste among the natives. The politician smitten with
Russo-phobia, deeply imbued with the notion, whether well or ill
founded, that the Muscovite aims at universal dominion in Europe and
Asia, seeks for evidences of the czar’s intrigues at Pekin, Teheran, and
Delhi. The partisan, thinking more of the ins and outs of official life,
than of Asia, points triumphantly to the dogma that if _his_ party had
been in power, no one of these three Oriental wars would have come upon
England. The merchant, believing that individual interest lies at the
bottom of all national welfare, tells us that railways and cotton
plantations would be better for India than military stations; and that
diplomatic piques at Canton and at Teheran ought not to be allowed to
drive us into hostility with nations who might be advantageous customers
for our wares. But while the theologian, the soldier, the politician,
the partisan, and the merchant are thus rushing to a demonstration, each
of his favourite theory, without waiting for the evidence which can only
by degrees be collected, England, as a nation, has had to bear up
against the storm as best she could. Not even one short twelvemonth of
peace was vouchsafed to her. The same year, 1856, that marked the
closing scenes of one war, witnessed the commencement of two others;
while the materials for a fourth war were at the same time fermenting,
unknown to those whose duty it was to watch symptoms.
Few things in the history of our empire are more astonishing than the
social explosion in India, taken in connection with the positive
declarations of official men. Historical parallels have often been
pointed out, striking and instructive; but here we have a historical
contradiction. At the time when the plenipotentiaries of seven European
empires and kingdoms were discussing at Paris the bases for a European
peace, the Marquis of Dalhousie was penning an account of India, in the
state to which Britain had brought it. A statesman of high ability, and
of unquestioned earnestness of purpose, he evidently felt a pride in the
work he had achieved as governor-general of India; he thought he had
laid the foundation for a great future; and he claimed credit for
England, not only in respect to what she had done, but also for the
motives that had dictated her Indian policy. It was in the early part of
1848 that this nobleman went out to the East; it was in 1856 that he
yielded the reins of power to Viscount Canning; and shortly before his
departure from Calcutta he wrote a minute or narrative, formally
addressed to the East India Company, but intended for his
fellow-countrymen at large, giving an account of his stewardship.
Remembering that that minute was written in March 1856, and that the
Revolt commenced in January 1857, it becomes very important to know,
from the lips or the pen of the marquis himself, what he believed to be
the actual condition of the Anglo-Indian Empire when he left it. The
document in question is worth more, for our present purpose, than any
formal history or description of India; for it shews not only the
sum-total of power and prosperity in 1848, but the additions made to
that sum year after year till 1856. A parliamentary paper of fifty folio
pages need not and cannot be reproduced here; but its substance may be
rendered intelligible in a few paragraphs. This we will attempt at once,
as a peculiarly fitting introduction to the main object of the present
work; for it shews how little the Revolt was expected by him who was
regarded as the centre of knowledge and influence in India. The marquis
said: ‘The time has nearly come when my administration of the government
of India, prolonged through more than eight years, will reach its final
close. It would seem that some few hours may be profitably devoted to a
short review of those eventful years; not for the purpose of justifying
disputed measures, or of setting forth a retrospective defence of the
policy which may, on every several occasion, have been adopted; but for
the purpose of recalling the political events that have occurred, the
measures that have been taken, and the progress that has been made,
during the career of the administration which is about to close. I enter
on that review with the single hope that the Honourable Court of
Directors may derive from the retrospect some degree of satisfaction
with the past, _and a still larger measure of encouragement for the
future_.’ The words we have italicised are very remarkable, read by the
light so soon and so calamitously to be afforded.
The minute first passes in review the proceedings of the Indian
government with the independent native states, both east and west of the
Ganges. How little our public men are able to foretell the course of
political events in the East, is shewn by the very first paragraph of
the governor-general’s narrative: ‘When I sailed from England in the
winter of 1847, to assume the government of India, there prevailed a
universal conviction among public men at home that permanent peace had
at length been secured in the East. Before the summer came, we were
already involved in the second Sikh war.’ Be it observed that public men
_at home_ are here adverted to: of what were the opinions of public men
in India, the English nation was not kept sufficiently informed. There
had been British officers murdered at Moultan; there was a rebellion of
the Dewan Moolraj against the recognised sovereign of Lahore; but the
renewal of war is attributed mainly to the ‘spirit of the whole Sikh
people, which was inflamed by the bitterest animosity against us; when
chief after chief deserted our cause, until nearly their whole army, led
by sirdars who had signed the treaties, and by members of the Council of
Regency itself, was openly arrayed against us;’ and when the Sikhs even
joined with the Afghans against us. It was not a mere hostile prince, it
was a hostile nation that confronted us; and the Indian government,
whether wisely or not, declared war, put forth its power, maintained a
long campaign, defeated and subdued the Sikhs, drove back the insurgent
Afghans, and ended by annexing the Punjaub to the British territories.
Scarcely had the Anglo-Indian armies been relieved from these onerous
duties, when war called them to the regions beyond the Ganges. Certain
British traders in the port of Rangoon had been subjected to gross
outrage by the officers of the King of Ava, in violation of a
pre-existing treaty; and the Marquis of Dalhousie, acting on a
high-sounding dictum of Lord Wellesley, that ‘an insult offered to the
British flag at the mouth of the Ganges should be resented as promptly
and as fully as an insult offered at the mouth of the Thames,’ resolved
to punish the king for those insults. That monarch was ‘arrogant and
over-bearing’—qualities much disapproved, where not shewn by the
Company’s servants themselves; he violated treaties, insulted our
traders, worried our envoys, and drove away our commercial agent at
Rangoon; and as the government of India ‘could never, consistently with
its own safety, permit itself to stand for a single day in an attitude
of inferiority towards a native power, and least of all towards the
court of Ava, war was declared. After some sharp fighting, the kingdom
of Pegu was taken and annexed, ‘in order that the government of India
might hold from the Burman state both adequate compensation for past
injury, and the best security against future danger.... A sense of
inferiority has penetrated at last to the convictions of the nation; the
Burman court and the Burman people alike have shewn that they now dread
our power; _and in that dread is the only real security we can ever
have, or ever could have had, for stable peace with the Burman state_.’
These words are at once boastful and saddening; but the notions
conveyed, of ‘sense of inferiority’ and ‘dread of power,’ are thoroughly
Asiatic, and as such we must accept them. Another independent state,
Nepaul, on the northern frontier of India, remained faithful during the
eight years of the Dalhousie administration; it carried on a war of its
own against Tibet, but it was friendly to England, and sent a bejewelled
ambassador, Jung Bahadoor, to visit the island Queen. The mountain
region of Cashmere, stolen as it were from the Himalaya, was under an
independent chieftain, Maharajah Gholab Sing, who, when he visited the
Marquis of Dalhousie at Wuzeerabad, caught the vice-regal robe in his
hand and said; ‘Thus I grasp the skirts of the British government, and I
will never let go my hold.’ The governor-general expresses a belief that
Gholab Sing ‘will never depart from his submissive policy as long as he
lives;’ while Gholab’s son and anticipated successor, Meean Rumbeer
Sing, is spoken of as one who will never give ‘any cause of offence to a
powerful neighbour, which he well knows can crush him at will.’ The Khan
of Khelat, near the western frontier, was brought into close
relationship, insomuch that he became ‘the friend of our friends, and
the enemy of our enemies,’ and engaged to give us temporary possession
of such military stations within his territory as we might at any time
require for purposes of defence. At the extreme northwest of our Indian
Empire, the Afghans, with whom we had fought such terrible battles
during the Auckland and Ellenborough administrations of Indian affairs,
had again been brought into friendly relations; the chief prince among
them, Dost Mohammed Khan of Cabool, had been made to see that England
was likely to be his best friend, and ‘had already shewn that he regards
English friendship as a tower of strength.’
Thus the governor-general, in adverting to independent states, announced
that he had conquered and annexed the Punjaub and Pegu; while he had
strengthened the bonds of amity with Nepaul, Cashmere, Khelat, and
Cabool—amity almost degraded to abject servility, if the protestations
of some of the chieftains were to be believed.
Having disposed of the independent states, the marquis directed
attention to the relations existing between the British government and
the protected or semi-independent states, of which there are many more
than those really independent. The kingdom of Nagpoor became British
territory by simple lapse, ‘in the absence of all legal heirs.’ In
bygone years the British put down one rajah and set up another; and when
this latter died, without a son real or adopted, or any male descendant
of the original royal stock, ‘the British government refused to bestow
the territory in free gift upon a stranger, and wisely incorporated it
with its own dominions’—a mode of acquiring territory very prevalent in
our Eastern Empire. The King of Oude, another protected sovereign,
having broken his engagements with the Company in certain instances, his
state was treated like Nagpoor, and added to British India. Satara lost
its rajah in 1849, and as no male heir was then living, that small state
shared the fate of the larger Oude: it was made British. Jhansi, a still
smaller territory, changed owners in an exactly similar way. The Nizam
of Hyderabad, owing to the Company a sum of money which he was unable or
unwilling to pay, and being in other ways under the Company’s wrath,
agreed in 1853 to give up Berar and other provinces to the exclusive
sovereignty of the British. Early in 1848 the Rajah of Ungool, a petty
chieftain in the Jungle Neehals, resisted the authority of the
government; his raj was taken from him, and he died in exile. The Rajah
of Sikim, a hill-chieftain on the borders of Nepaul, ‘had the audacity’
to seize a Company’s official at Darjeling; as a punishment, all the
territories he possessed within the plains were confiscated and annexed.
In Sinde, Meer Ali Morad of Khyrpore, having involved himself in an act
of forgery concerning the ownership of territory, ‘the lands were taken
from him, and his power and influence were reduced to insignificance.’
The Nawab Nazim of Bengal having committed a murder by bastinado, ‘his
highness’s peculiar jurisdiction and legal exemption were taken away
from him; and he was subjected to the disgrace of losing a large portion
of the salute of honour which he had previously received.’ The Nawab of
the Carnatic died suddenly in 1855; and as he left no male heir, and his
relations lived very disreputably, the title of nawab ‘was placed in
abeyance:’ that is, the Carnatic was made British territory, and the
several members of the nawab’s family were pensioned off. About the same
time, the Rajah of Tanjore died, in like manner without male issue
bearing his name; and the same process was adopted there as in the
Carnatic—sovereign power was assumed by the Company, and the ex-royal
family was pensioned off.
Counting up his treasures, the governor-general was certainly enabled to
announce a most extraordinary accession of territory during the years
1848 to 1855. The Punjaub, Pegu, Nagpoor, Oude, Satara, Jhansi, Berar,
Ungool, Darjeling, Khyrpore, the Carnatic, and Tanjore, all became
British for the first time, or else had the links which bound them to
England brought closer. While, on the one hand, it must be admitted that
the grounds or excuses for annexation would be deemed very slight in any
country but India; so, on the other, there can be no doubt that the
Marquis of Dalhousie, and the directors with whom he was acting,
believed that these annexing processes were essential to the maintenance
of British power in the East. He takes credit to his government for
having settled certain family quarrels among the petty royalties of
Gujerat, Buhawalpore, Jummoo, and Mumdote, without paying itself for its
services: as if it were a virtue to abstain from annexation at such
times. The mention made of Delhi must be given in the governor-general’s
own words, to shew how much the descendant of the once mighty Mogul was
regarded as a mere puppet—yet maintaining a certain hold on the
reverence of the people, as was destined to be shewn in a series of
events little anticipated by the writer of the minute. ‘Seven years ago
the heir-apparent to the King of Delhi died. He was the last of the race
who had been born in the purple. The Court of Directors was accordingly
advised to decline to recognise any other heir-apparent, and to permit
the kingly title to fall into abeyance upon the death of the present
king, who even then was a very aged man. The Honourable Court
accordingly conveyed to the government of India _authority to terminate
the dynasty of Timour_, whenever the reigning king should die. But as it
was found that, although the Honourable Court had consented to the
measure, it had given its consent with great reluctance, I abstained
from making use of the authority which had been given to me. The
grandson of the king was recognised as heir-apparent; but only on
condition that he should quit the palace in Delhi in order to reside in
the palace at the Kootub; and that he should, as king, _receive the
governor-general of India at all times on terms of perfect equality_.’
How strange do these words sound! A board of London merchants sitting in
a room in Leadenhall Street, giving ‘authority to terminate the dynasty
of Timour;’ and then, as a gracious condescension, permitting the
representative of that dynasty to be on terms of ‘perfect equality’ with
whomsoever may be the chief representative of the Company in India.
The Marquis of Dalhousie pointed to the revenues derivable from the
newly annexed territories as among the many justifications for his line
of policy. He shewed that four millions sterling were added to the
annual income of the Anglo-Indian Empire by the acquisition of the
Punjaub, Pegu, Nagpoor, Oude, Satara, Jhansi, and Berar—increasing the
total revenue from about twenty-six millions in 1848 to above thirty
millions in 1855.
The extreme importance of this official document lying in the evidence
it affords how little dread was felt in 1856 of any approaching
outbreak, we proceed with the governor-general’s narrative of the
augmentation and stability of British power in the East, power of which
he was evidently proud—presenting, of course, as a mere outline, that
which his lordship fills up in more detail.
Credit is claimed in the minute for the improved administrative
organisation both of the old and of the newly acquired territories. Able
men were selected to administer government in the Punjaub; and so well
did they fulfil their duties that internal peace was secured, violent
crime repressed, the penal law duly enforced, prison-discipline
maintained, civil justice administered, taxation fixed, collection of
revenue rendered just, commerce set free, agriculture fostered, national
resources developed, and future improvements planned. Not only did the
marquis assert this; but there is a general concurrence of opinion that
the Punjaub fell into fortunate hands when its administration came to be
provided for. In Pegu the administration, less brilliant than in the
Punjaub, is nevertheless represented as being sound in principle;
tranquillity was restored; effective police had secured the safety of
all; trade was increased and increasing; a fair revenue was derived from
light taxation; ‘the people, lightly taxed and prosperous, are highly
contented with our rule;’ and, when population has increased, ‘Pegu will
equal Bengal in fertility of production, and surpass it in every other
respect.’ At Nagpoor the assumption of supreme authority by Britain was
‘hailed with lively satisfaction by the whole population of the
province;’ no additional soldier had been introduced thither; the civil
administration was introduced everywhere; the native army was partly
embodied and disciplined in British pay, and partly discharged either
with pensions or gratuities. In short, ‘perfect contentment and quiet
prevail; beyond the palace walls not a murmur has been heard; and in no
single instance throughout the districts has the public peace been
disturbed.’ In Berar, we are told, the same phenomena were observed; as
soon as the cession was made, our numerous disputes with the nizam
ended; the civil administration was brought into working order; crime,
especially the violent crime of _dacoitee_ (gang-robbery without murder)
was diminished; the ‘admirable little army,’ formerly called the Nizam’s
Contingent, was made available as part of the British force; the revenue
rapidly increased; and the public tranquillity had ‘not been disturbed
by a single popular tumult.’ The kingdom of Oude had only been annexed a
few weeks before the Marquis of Dalhousie wrote his minute; but he
states that a complete civil administration, and a resident military
force, had been fully organised before the annexation took place; that
the troops of the deposed native king were contentedly taking service in
British pay; that no zemindar or chief had refused submission to our
authority; that the best men who could be found available were selected
from the civil and military services for the new offices in Oude; and
that no popular resistance or disturbance had occurred.
Nothing could be more clear and positive than these assertions. Not only
did the governor-general announce that the Punjaub, Pegu, Nagpoor,
Berar, and Oude had been completely annexed, bringing a large accession
to the British revenues; but that in every case a scheme of
administration had been framed and established, conducive to the lasting
benefit of the natives, the honour of the British name, and the
development of the natural resources of the several districts. Not a
whisper of discontent, of spirits chafed by change of rulers, did the
marquis recognise: if they occurred, they reached not him; or if they
_did_ reach him, he passed them by as trifles.
Nor was it alone in the newly acquired territories that credit for these
advantageous changes was claimed. Improvements in the government of
India were pointed out in every direction. The governor-general had been
relieved from an overwhelming press of duties by the appointment of a
lieutenant-governor for Bengal. A Legislative Council had been
organised, distinct from the Supreme Council: the public having access
to its deliberations, and its debates and papers being printed and
issued to the world. The Indian civil service, by an act passed in 1853,
had been thrown open to all who, being natural-born subjects of the
British sovereign, should offer themselves as candidates for examination
and admission. Young cadets, who previously had been allowed nearly two
years to ‘idle and loiter’ at the presidencies while studying for
examination as civilians, were by a new regulation required to complete
their studies in a much shorter period, thereby lessening their idleness
and rendering them sooner useful. Periodical examinations of the civil
servants had been established, to insure efficiency before promotion was
given. A board of examiners had been founded, to conduct examinations
and superintend studies. All officers of the Indian government had been
formally prohibited from engaging in banking or trading companies; and
any bankruptcy among them entailed suspension from office. In many of
the civil offices, promotion, before dependent on seniority alone, had
been made dependent on merit alone. A pension or superannuation list had
been established in many departments, to insure steady and faithful
service. Three boards of administration for salt, opium, and customs had
been replaced by one board of revenue, simpler in its constitution. The
annual financial reports, transmitted to the home government, had
gradually been made more clear, full, and instructive. All the salaries
throughout India had been placed under the consideration of a special
commissioner, for equitable revision; and the authorities had determined
that, in future, no salaries, with a few special exceptions, shall
exceed fifty thousand rupees (about five thousand pounds) per annum.
Nor had legislative reform been wholly forgotten. During the eight years
under review, laws had been passed or rules laid down for the punishment
of officials guilty of corruption, or accountants guilty of default; for
allowing counsel to prisoners on their trial; for abolishing the
semi-savage custom of branding convicts; for rendering public officers
more amenable to public justice; for vesting a right of pardon in the
supreme government; for improving the procedure in all the civil and
criminal courts; for rendering the reception of evidence more fair and
impartial; and, among many less important things, for ‘securing liberty
of conscience, and for the protection of converts, and especially of
Christian converts, against injury in respect of property or inheritance
by reason of a change in their religious belief.’ For the amelioration
of prison-discipline, inspectors of prisons had been appointed in all
the three presidencies, as well as in Oude, the Punjaub, and the
northwest provinces.
Equally in moral as in administrative matters did the Marquis of
Dalhousie insist on the manifold improvement of India during the eight
years preceding 1856. Schools for the education of natives had been
established; the Hindoo College at Calcutta had been revived and
improved; a Presidency College had been founded in the same city, to
give a higher scale of education to the youth of Bengal; similar
colleges had been sanctioned at Madras and Bombay; grants-in-aid to all
educational establishments had been authorised, subject to government
inspection of the schools aided; a committee had been appointed to
consider the plans for establishing regular universities at Calcutta,
Bombay, and Madras; a distinct educational department had been formed at
the seat of government, with director-generals of public instruction in
all the presidencies and governments; and the East India Company had, by
a dispatch framed in 1854, sanctioned a most extensive educational
scheme for the whole of India, to be rendered available to all the
natives who might be willing and able to claim its advantages. The
delicate subject of female education had not been forgotten.
Instructions had been given to the officers of the educational
department to afford all possible encouragement to the establishment of
female schools, whenever any disposition was shewn by the natives in
that direction. There is a peculiar difficulty in all that concerns
female education in India, arising from the reluctance which has always
been shewn by the higher classes of natives to permit the attendance of
their daughters at schools. Mr Bethune commenced, and the Marquis of
Dalhousie continued, a delicate and cautious attempt to overcome this
unwillingness by establishing a Hindoo ladies’ school at Calcutta; and
the minute gives expression to an earnest hope and belief that the
female character in India will gradually be brought under the elevating
influence of moral and intellectual education. As the native mind was
thus sought to be ameliorated and strengthened by education; so had the
prevention or cure of bodily maladies been made an object of attention.
Additional advantages had been granted to natives who applied themselves
to the study of the medical sciences; the number of dispensaries had
been greatly increased, to the immense benefit of the poorer classes of
Hindoos and Mohammedans; plans had been commenced for introducing a
check to the dreadful ravages of the small-pox; admission to the medical
service of the Company had been thrown open to natives; and, as a
first-fruit of this change, one Dr Chuckerbutty, a Hindoo educated in
England, had won for himself a commission as assistant-surgeon in the
Company’s service.
In so far as concerns superstition and religion, the minute narrates a
course of proceeding of which the following is the substance. Among the
extraordinary social customs—atrocities they are unquestionably
considered in Europe—of India, those of Suttee, Thuggee, Infanticide,
and the Meriah Sacrifice, are mentioned as having undergone much
amelioration during the eight years to which the minute relates. The
_suttee_, or burning of widows, had been almost suppressed by previous
governor-generals, and the marquis had carried out the plans of his
predecessors: remonstrating where any suttees occurred in independent
states; and punishing where they occurred in the British and protected
territories. _Thuggee_, or systematic murder of travellers for the sake
of booty, had been quite suppressed east of the Sutlej; but having
unexpectedly made its appearance in the Punjaub in 1851, it was
thoroughly put down there as elsewhere; those who turned approvers or
king’s evidence against their brother Thugs now form—or rather did form
in 1856—a peaceful industrious colony at Jubbulpoor, where they spun and
wove muslins of exquisite fineness, instead of cutting the throats of
unsuspecting travellers. _Female infanticide_, the result of pride of
birth and pride of purse—parents murdering their infant daughters either
because they cannot afford the marriage expenditure which must one day
be incurred on their account, or because they see difficulties in
marrying them suitably—had been greatly checked and discouraged. In the
Punjaub a most signal and singular conquest had been achieved; for the
British representative, calling together the chiefs of tribes in 1854,
unfolded to them a plan, ‘the observance of which would effectually
secure that no man should feel any real difficulty in providing for his
daughter in marriage;’ whereupon the chiefs, as well as those of the
Cashmere tribes, promised that, as the motive for infanticide would thus
in great measure be removed, they would cheerfully aid in suppressing
the practice. Lastly, the _Meriah sacrifice_—a horrible rite, in which
young human victims are sacrificed for the propitiation of the special
divinity which presides over the fertility of the earth—had been nearly
rooted out from the only district where it was practised, among the hill
and jungle tribes of Orissa. In religious matters, the ecclesiastical
strength of the established church had been largely increased; clergymen
had been occasionally sanctioned, besides those acting as chaplains to
the Company; places of worship had been provided for the servants and
soldiers of the Company; Protestant churches had been built in places
where the worshippers were willing to contribute something towards the
expenditure; Roman Catholics serving the Company had been provided with
places of worship; salaries had been granted to three Roman Catholic
bishops, one in each presidency; the salaries of the priests had been
revised and augmented; and a wish was manifested to observe justice
towards the Catholic as well as the Protestant who served his country
well in the East.
Thus—in the acquisition of territory, in the augmentation of revenue
consequent on that acquisition, in the administrative organisation, in
the spread of education, in the provision for religious services, and in
the plans for improving the moral conduct of the natives—the Marquis of
Dalhousie claimed to have done much that would redound to the honour of
the British name and to the advancement of the millions under British
rule in India. The problem still remains unsolved—Why should India, or
the native military of that country, have revolted from British service?
Let us see, therefore, whether the governor-general says aught that
throws light upon the matter in connection with trade and commerce; and
in order to understand this subject clearly, let us treat separately of
Productive Industry and Means of Communication.
Cotton is destined, according to the ideas of some thinkers, to mark a
great future for India; but meanwhile we are told in the minute that, by
the acquisition of Nagpoor and Berar, many fertile cotton districts were
brought under British rule; and that since the acquisition of Pegu, an
examination of the cotton-growing capabilities of the northern part of
that kingdom had been commenced. The tea-culture in Assam had prospered
greatly during the eight years from 1848 to 1856; the plant had been
largely introduced into the upper districts of the northwest provinces;
plantations had been established at Deyrah Dhoon, Kumaon, and Gurhwal;
Mr Fortune had brought large supplies of Chinese seeds and Chinese
workmen to India; many of the native zemindars had begun the cultivation
on their own account in districts at the foot of the Himalaya; and every
year witnessed a large increase in the production of Indian tea, which
was excellent in quality, and sold readily at a high price. In
agriculture generally, improvements of all kinds had been made; an
Agricultural and Horticultural Society had been established in the
Punjaub; carefully selected seeds had been procured from Europe; the
growth of flax had been encouraged; the growth of the mulberry and the
rearing of silkworms had been fostered by the government; and a grant
had been made in aid of periodical agricultural shows in the Madras
presidency. In relation to live-stock, plans had been formed for
improving the breed of horses; merino and Australian rams had been
introduced to improve the breed of sheep; and sheep had been introduced
into Pegu, to the great delight of the natives and the advantage of all;
‘for the absence of sheep leads to a privation in respect of food, which
is severely felt, not only by European soldiers in the province, but
also by all of every class who are employed therein.’ The forests had
been brought under due regulation by the appointment of conservators of
forests at Pegu, Tenasserim, and Martaban; by the careful examination of
the whole of the forests in the Punjaub; by the planting of new
districts, hitherto bare; and by the laying down of rules for the future
preservation and thrifty management of these important sources of timber
and fuel. The inestimable value of coal being duly appreciated, careful
researches had been made, by order of the government, in the Punjaub,
Pegu, Tenasserim, Bengal, Silhet, and the Nerbudda Valley, to lay the
groundwork for careful mining whenever and wherever good coal may be
found. Practical chemists and geological surveyors had been set to work
in the Simla Hills, Kumaon, Gurhwal, the Nerbudda Valley, Beerboom, and
Jubbulpoor, either to discover beds of ironstone, or to organise
ironworks where such beds had already been discovered; and an
experimental mining and smelting establishment had been founded by the
government among the Kumaon Hills, to apply tests likely to be valuable
in future.
Next, in connection with means of communication, the channels by and
through which commerce permeates the empire, the governor-general had a
very formidable list of works to notice. Surveys, irrigation and canals,
rivers and harbours, roads, railways, electric telegraphs, and postal
communications—had all been made the subjects of great engineering
activity during the eight years of the Dalhousie administration. A few
words must be said here on each of these topics; for it becomes
absolutely necessary, in order to a due appreciation of the narrative of
Revolt about to follow, that we should, as a preliminary, know whether
India really had or had not been neglected in these elements of
prosperity in the years immediately preceding the outbreak.
Measures, we learn from the minute, had been taken for executing exact
surveys of all the newly annexed territory in the Punjaub, Pegu, Sinde,
Nagpoor, and Berar in the same careful manner as the survey of the older
territories had been before carried out; and in Central India ‘the
consent of all the native states has been obtained to the making of a
topographical survey, and to a demarcation of all the boundaries between
the several native states, and between the British territories and those
of native states:’ a proceeding expected to lessen the frequency of
feuds concerning disputed boundaries.
The activity in irrigation-works and canal-cutting had unquestionably
been very great. In 1854 the Ganges Canal was opened in its main line,
for the double purpose of irrigation and navigation. A mighty work this,
which no mutiny, no angry feelings, should induce the English public to
forget. It is 525 miles in length, and in some parts 170 feet in width;
and considered as a canal for irrigation, ‘it stands unequalled in its
class and character among the efforts of civilised nations. Its length
is fivefold greater than that of all the main lines of Lombardy united,
and more than twice the length of the aggregate irrigation lines of
Lombardy and Egypt together—the only countries in the world whose works
of irrigation rise above insignificance.’ Nor is this all. ‘As a single
work of navigation for purposes of commerce, the Ganges Canal has no
competitor throughout the world. No single canal in Europe has attained
to half the magnitude of this Indian work. It nearly equals the
aggregate length of the four greatest canals in France. It greatly
exceeds all the first-class canals of Holland put together; and it is
greater, by nearly one-third, than the greatest navigation canal in the
United States of America.’ Pausing for one moment just to observe that
the writer of the words here quoted seems to have temporarily forgotten
the great canal of China, we proceed to state, on the authority of the
minute, that when all the branches are finished, this noble Ganges Canal
will be 900 miles in length. It will then, by its periodical
overflowings, irrigate _a million and a half of acres_, thus lessening
the terrible apprehensions of famine or dearth among millions of human
beings. We may doubt or not on other subjects, but it is impossible to
doubt the sincerity of the Marquis of Dalhousie when he says: ‘I trust I
shall not be thought vain-glorious if I say that the successful
execution and completion of such a work as the Ganges Canal would, even
if it stood alone, suffice to signalise an Indian administration.’ But
this work did not absorb all the energies of the canal engineers; much
of a similar though smaller kind had been effected elsewhere. An
irrigation canal had been begun in the Punjaub, which, when finished,
would be 465 miles in length, fed from the river Ravee. All the old
canals formed in the Moultan district of the Punjaub, 600 miles in
length, had been cleansed, enlarged, and improved, and the distribution
of the waters for the purpose of irrigation placed under judicious
regulation. Irrigation canals had been made or improved in the Derajat,
in the provinces east of the Sutlej, in Behar, and in Sinde. A
magnificent work had been executed for carrying an irrigation canal over
the river Godavery; and canals of much importance had been commenced in
the Madras and Bombay presidencies.
Rivers and harbours had shared in the attention bestowed on irrigation
and canal navigation. The Ganges had been opened to river steamers
before 1848, and it only remained to advance in the same line of
improvement. The Indus, by the conquest of the Punjaub, had been made a
British river almost from the Himalaya down to the ocean; steamers had
been placed upon it; and it had become a direct route for troops and
travellers to many parts of Northern India, before attainable only by
the Calcutta route. All the rivers in the upper part of the Punjaub had
been surveyed, with a view to the determination of their capabilities
for steam-navigation. No sooner was Pegu acquired, than steamers were
placed upon the Irrawaddy, the great river of that country; and short
canals of junction between various rivers had been so planned as to give
promise of a complete line of river-steaming from Bassein to Moulmein.
Arrangements had been made for placing steamers upon the river
Burhampooter or Brahmaputra, to connect Assam with the Bay of Bengal.
Extensive works had been commenced to improve the navigation of the
Godavery. The channels that lead from Calcutta through the Sundurbunds
to the sea had been enlarged; and a great bridge over the Hoogly near
the city had been planned. The port of Bombay had been greatly improved,
and large works for water-supply commenced. At Kurachee, at Madras, at
Singapore, at Rangoon, and at other places, engineering improvements had
been made to increase the accommodation for shipping.
We follow the Marquis of Dalhousie from the river to the land, and trace
with him the astonishing length of new road constructed or planned
during his administration. A great trunk-road from Calcutta to Delhi had
been extended nearly to the Sutlej; and when the Punjaub became a
British possession, plans were immediately marked out for prolonging the
same road to Loodianah, Umritsir, Lahore, Jelum, Attock, and
Peshawur—thus forming, if all be completed, a magnificent road 1500
miles in length from Calcutta to the Afghan frontier, available both for
commercial and military operations. The difficulties of crossing so many
broad rivers in Northern India is immense, and the cost great; but the
road, as the minute tells us, ‘will repay a thousandfold the labour and
the treasure it has cost.’ Then, fine roads had been formed from Patna
to Gya, from Cuttack to Ungool and Sumbhulpore, from Dacca to Akyab, and
thence towards Aracan and Pegu; while vast systems of roads had been
brought under consideration for Pegu, the Punjaub, Sinde, and other
newly acquired regions. Engineers had been employed to plan a road from
Simla up to the very Himalaya itself, to connect India with Tibet; as it
would greatly improve the social position of all the native tribes near
it. When Pegu was attacked, and when a military force was sent thither
overland from Calcutta, hundreds of elephants were employed to force a
way through the forests and roadless tracts between Aracan and Pegu; but
by the spring of 1855 a road had been formed, along which a battalion
could march briskly on foot.
The Marquis of Dalhousie was not in a position to say so much concerning
railways in India as ordinary roads. Although railways were brought
under the consideration of the Company in 1843, nothing was done
regarding them till 1849, when a contract was entered into with a
separate company to construct a certain length of railway which, if
continued, would connect Calcutta with the north and northwest of India.
In the spring of 1853 the marquis recommended a bold line of policy in
these matters: the sanction and support, in every available way, of
great lines of railway to connect Calcutta with Lahore, Bombay with
Agra, Bombay with Madras, and Madras with the Malabar coast. A qualified
approval of these schemes had been accorded by the East India Company,
and engagements to the extent of ten millions sterling had been made for
a railway from Delhi to Burdwan: a line from Burdwan to Calcutta having
been opened in 1855. The governor-general, not dreaming of mutinies and
rebellions, named the year 1859 as the probable time of finishing the
iron route from Calcutta to Delhi. Besides these engagements with the
East India Railway Company in the Bengal presidency, contracts had been
made with the Great India Peninsula Company for a railway from Bombay to
the Ghaut Mountains; and another with the Bombay and Central India
Company for a railway from Bombay to Khandeish and Nagpoor, and for
another from Surat to Ahmedabad. On the eastern coast, the government
had arranged with the Madras Railway Company for lines from Madras to
the Malabar coast, _viâ_ Coimbatore, and from Variembaddy to Bangalore.
The English nation has long blamed the East India Company for a dilatory
policy in regard to railways; but all we have to do in this place is, on
the authority of the governor-general, to specify in few words what had
been done in the years immediately preceding the outbreak.
The electric telegraph—perhaps the grandest invention of our age—found
in India a congenial place for its reception. Where the officials had no
more rapid means of sending a message to a distance of a thousand miles
than the fleetness of a corps of foot-runners, it is no marvel that the
achievements of the lightning-messenger were regarded with an eager eye.
An experimental line of electric telegraph was determined on, to be
carried out by Dr (now Sir William) O’Shaughnessy; and when that
energetic man made his report on the result in 1852, it was at once
determined to commence arrangements for lines of immense length, to
connect the widely separated cities of Calcutta, Madras, Bombay, and
Peshawur, and the great towns between them. It was a grand idea, and was
worthily realised; for by the month of March 1854 an electric wire of
800 miles was established between Calcutta and Agra; by the month of
February 1855, the towns of Calcutta, Agra, Attock, Bombay, and Madras
were placed in telegraphic communication by 3000 miles of wire, serving
nearly forty towns on the way; and by the beginning of 1856 another
length of 1000 miles was added, from Attock to Peshawur, from Bangalore
to Ootacamund, and from Rangoon to the Burmese frontier. Many works of
great magnitude were required; there were few good roads for the workmen
to avail themselves of; there were few bridges; there were deadly
jungles to be passed; there was every variety of foundation, from loose
black soil to hard rocky wastes; there were seventy large rivers to be
crossed, either by cables in the water, or by wires extended on the tops
of masts; there was a cable of two miles required to cross the
Toongabudra, and one of three miles to cross the Sone—and yet the entire
work was comprised within a cost of 500 rupees or £50 per mile: perhaps
the wisest expenditure ever incurred in India. Repeatedly has a message,
relating to news from England, been transmitted 1000 miles, from Bombay
to Calcutta, in less than three-quarters of an hour; and it has become a
regular routine that the government at Calcutta shall be in possession
of a considerable body of telegraphic news from England within twelve
hours after the anchoring of the mail-steamer at Bombay. Who can
conceive the bewilderment of the Hindoo mind at such achievements! It is
certainly permissible to the governor-general to refer with pride to two
or three among many instances of the remarkable service rendered by
these telegraphs. ‘When her Majesty’s 10th Hussars were ordered with all
speed from Poonah to the Crimea, a message requesting instructions
regarding their despatch was one day received by me at Calcutta from the
government of Bombay, about nine o’clock in the morning. Instructions
were forthwith sent off by the telegraph in reply; and an answer to that
reply was again received at Calcutta from Bombay in the evening of the
same day. A year before, the same communications for the despatch of
speedy reinforcements to the seat of war, which occupied by the
telegraph no more than _twelve hours_, could not have been made in less
than _thirty days_.’ Again: ‘When it was resolved to send her Majesty’s
12th Lancers from Bangalore to the Crimea, instead of her Majesty’s 14th
Dragoons from Meerut, orders were forthwith despatched by telegraph
direct to the regiment at Bangalore. The corps was immediately got ready
for service; it marched two hundred miles, and was there before the
transports were ready to receive it.’ Again: ‘On the 7th of February
1856, as soon as the administration of Oude was assuredly under British
government, a branch-electric telegraph from Cawnpore to Lucknow was
forthwith commenced; in eighteen working-days it was completed,
including the laying of a cable, six thousand feet in length, across the
river Ganges. On the morning on which I resigned the government in
India, General Outram was asked by telegraph: “Is all well in Oude?” The
answer: “All is well in Oude,” was received soon after noon, and greeted
Lord Canning on his first arrival.’ Little did the new governor-general
then foresee in how few months he would receive painful proof that all
was _not_ well in Oude. However, the Marquis of Dalhousie was justified
in adverting with satisfaction to the establishment of telegraphic
communication during his reign of power; and he insists on full credit
being due to the East India Company for what was done in that direction.
‘I make bold to say, that whether regard be had to promptitude of
executive action, to speed and solidity of construction, to rapidity of
organisation, to liberality of charge, or to the early realisation and
vast magnitude of increased political influence in the East, the
achievement of the Honourable Company in the establishment of the
electric telegraph in India may challenge comparison with any public
enterprise which has been carried into execution in recent times, among
the nations of Europe, or in America itself.’
The postal system had not been allowed to stagnate during the eight
years under consideration. A commission had been appointed in 1850, to
inquire into the best means of increasing the efficiency of the system;
and under the recommendations of this commission, great improvements had
been made. A director-general of the post-office for the whole of India
had been appointed; a uniformity of rate irrespective of distance had
been established (three farthings for a letter, and three half-pence for
a newspaper); prepayment by postage-stamps had been substituted for cash
payment; the privileges of official franking had been almost abolished;
and a uniform sixpenny rate was fixed for letters between India and
England. Here again the governor-general insists, not only that the
Indian government had worked zealously, but that England herself had
been outstripped in liberal policy. ‘In England, a single letter is
conveyed to any part of the British isles for one penny; in India, a
single letter is conveyed over distances immeasurably greater—from
Peshawur, on the borders of Afghanistan, to the southernmost village of
Cape Comorin, or from Dehooghur, in Upper Assam, to Kurachee at the
mouth of the Indus—for no more than three farthings. The postage
chargeable on the same letter three years ago in India would not have
been less than one shilling, or sixteen times the present charge. Again,
since uniform rates of postage between England and India have been
established, the Scotch recruit who joins his regiment on our furthest
frontier at Peshawur, may write to his mother at John o’ Groat’s House,
and may send his letter to her free for sixpence: three years ago, the
same sum would not have carried his letter beyond Lahore.’
So great had been the activity of the Company and the governor-general,
in the course of eight years, in developing the productive resources of
our Oriental empire, that a department of Public Works had become
essentially necessary. The Company expended from two to three millions
sterling annually in this direction, and a new organisation had been
made to conduct the various works on which this amount of expenditure
was to be bestowed. When the great roads and canals were being planned
and executed, numerous civil engineers were of course needed; and the
minute tells us that ‘it was the far-seeing sagacity of Mr Thomason
which first anticipated the necessity of training engineers in the
country itself in which they were to be employed, and which first
suggested an effectual method of doing so. On his recommendation, the
civil engineering college at Roorkee, which now rightly bears his
honoured name, was founded with the consent of the Honourable Court. It
has already been enlarged and extended greatly beyond its original
limits. Instruction in it is given to soldiers preparing for subordinate
employment in the Public Works department, to young gentlemen not in the
service of government, and to natives upon certain conditions. A higher
class for commissioned officers of the army was created some years ago,
at the suggestion of the late Sir Charles Napier; and the government has
been most ready to consent to officers obtaining leave to study there,
as in the senior department at Sandhurst. Excellent fruit has already
been borne by this institution; many good servants have already been
sent forth into [from?] the department; and applications for the
services of students of the Thomason College were, before long, received
from other local governments.’ But this was not all: civil engineering
colleges and classes were formed at Calcutta, Madras, Bombay, Lahore,
and Poonah.
So greatly had the various public works on rivers and harbours, roads
and canals, telegraphic and postal communications, increased the trade
of India, that the shipping entries increased regularly year by year.
There were about six hundred vessels, exclusive of trading craft, that
ascended the Hoogly to Calcutta in 1847; by 1856, the number had
augmented to twelve hundred; and the tonnage had risen in a still
greater ratio.
What is the English nation to think of all this, and how reconcile it
with the tragedies destined so soon to afflict that magnificent country?
Here we find the highest representative of the British crown narrating
and describing, in words too clear to be misunderstood, political and
commercial advancements of a really stupendous kind, effected within the
short period of eight years. We read of vast territories conquered,
tributary states annexed, amicable relations with other states
strengthened, territorial revenues increased, improved administration
organised, the civil service purified, legislative reforms effected,
prison-discipline improved, native colleges and schools established,
medical aid disseminated, thuggee and dacoitee put down, suttee and
infanticide discouraged, churches and chapels built, ministers of
religion salaried. We are told of the cultivation of raw produce being
fostered, the improvement of live-stock insured, the availability of
mineral treasures tested, exact territorial surveys completed,
stupendous irrigation and navigation canals constructed, flotillas of
river-steamers established, ports and harbours enlarged and deepened,
magnificent roads formed, long lines of railway commenced, thousands of
miles of electric telegraph set to work, vast postal improvements
insured. We read all this, and we cannot marvel if the ruler of India
felt some pride in his share of the work. But still the problem remains
unsolved—was the great Revolt foreshadowed in any of these achievements?
As the mutiny began among the military, it may be well to see what
information is afforded by the minute concerning military reforms
between the years 1848 and 1856.
It is truly remarkable, knowing what the English nation now so painfully
knows, that the Marquis of Dalhousie, in narrating the various
improvements introduced by him in the military system, passes at once to
the _British_ soldiers: distinctly asserting that ‘the position of the
_native_ soldier in India has long been such as to leave hardly any
circumstance of his condition in need of improvement.’ The British
troops, we are told, had been benefited in many ways. The terms of
service in India had been limited to twelve years as a maximum; the
rations had been greatly improved; malt liquor had been substituted for
destructive ardent spirits; the barracks had been mostly rebuilt, with
modifications depending on the climate of each station; separate
barracks had been set apart for the married men of each regiment;
lavatories and reading-rooms had become recognised portions of every
barrack; punkhas or cooling fans had been adopted for barracks in hot
stations, and additional bed-coverings in cold; swimming-baths had been
formed at most of the stations; soldiers’ gardens had been formed at
many of the cantonments; workshops and tools for handicraftsmen had been
attached to the barracks; sanitaria had been built among the hills for
sick soldiers; and arrangements had been framed for acclimatising all
recruits from England before sending them into hot districts on service.
Then, as to the officers. Encouragement had been offered for the
officers to make themselves proficient in the native languages. A
principle had been declared and established, that promotion by seniority
should no longer govern the service; but that the test should be ‘the
selection of no man, whatever his standing, unless he was confessedly
capable and efficient.’ With the consent of the Queen, the Company’s
officers had had granted to them the recognition, until then rather
humiliatingly withheld, of their military rank, not only in India but
throughout the world. A military orphan school had been established in
the hill districts. All the military departments had been revised and
amended, the commissariat placed on a wholly new basis, and the military
clothing supplied on a more efficient system than before.
Again is the search baffled. We find in the minute proofs only that
India had become great and grand; if the seeds of rebellion existed,
they were buried under the language which described material and social
advancement. Is it that England, in 1856, had yet to learn to understand
the native character? Such may be; for _thuggee_ came to the knowledge
of our government with astounding suddenness; and there may be some
other kind of thuggee, religious or social, still to be learned by us.
Let us bear in mind what this thuggee or thugism was, and who were the
Thugs. Many years ago, uneasy whispers passed among the British
residents in India. Rumours went abroad of the fate of unsuspecting
travellers ensnared while walking or riding upon the road, lassoed or
strangled by means of a silken cord, and robbed of their personal
property; the rumours were believed to be true; but it was long ere the
Indian government succeeded in bringing to light the stupendous
conspiracy or system on which these atrocities were based. It was then
found that there exists a kind of religious body in India, called Thugs,
among whom murder and robbery are portions of a religious rite,
established more than a thousand years ago. They worship Kali, one of
the deities of the Hindoo faith. In gangs varying from ten to two
hundred, they distribute themselves—or rather _did_ distribute
themselves, before the energetic measures of the government had nearly
suppressed their system—about various parts of India, sacrificing to
their tutelary goddess every victim they can seize, and sharing the
plunder among themselves. They shed no blood, except under special
circumstances; murder being their religion, the performance of its
duties requires secrecy, better observed by a noose or a cord than by a
knife or firearm. Every gang has its leader, teacher, entrappers,
stranglers, and gravediggers; each with his prescribed duties. When a
traveller, supposed or known to have treasure about him, has been
inveigled to a selected spot by the _Sothas_ or entrappers, he is
speedily put to death quietly by the _Bhuttotes_ or stranglers, and then
so dexterously placed underground by the _Lughahees_ or gravediggers
that no vestige of disturbed earth is visible.[1] This done, they offer
a sacrifice to their goddess Kali, and finally share the booty taken
from the murdered man. Although the ceremonial is wholly Hindoo, the
Thugs themselves comprise Mohammedans as well as Hindoos; and it is
supposed by some inquirers that the Mohammedans have ingrafted a system
of robbery on that which was originally a religious murder—murder as
part of a sacrifice to a deity.
We repeat: there _may_ be some moral or social thuggee yet to be
discovered in India; but all we have now to assert is, that the
condition of India in 1856 did not suggest to the retiring
governor-general the slightest suspicion that the British in that
country were on the edge of a volcano. He said, in closing his
remarkable minute: ‘My parting hope and prayer for India is, that, in
all time to come, these reports from the presidencies and provinces
under our rule may form, in each successive year, a happy record of
peace, prosperity, and progress.’ No forebodings here, it is evident.
Nevertheless, there are isolated passages which, read as England can
_now_ read them, are worthy of notice. One runs thus: ‘No prudent man,
who has any knowledge of Eastern affairs, would ever venture to predict
the maintenance of continued peace within our Eastern possessions.
Experience, frequent hard and recent experience, has taught us that war
from without, or rebellion from within, may at any time be raised
against us, in quarters where they were the least to be expected, and by
the most feeble and unlikely instruments. No man, therefore, can ever
prudently hold forth assurance of continued peace in India.’ Again: ‘In
territories and among a population so vast, occasional disturbance must
needs prevail. Raids and forays are, and will still be, reported from
the western frontier. From time to time marauding expeditions will
descend into the plains; and again expeditions to punish the marauders
will penetrate the hills. Nor can it be expected but that, among tribes
so various and multitudes so innumerable, local outbreaks will from time
to time occur.’ But in another place he seeks to lessen the force and
value of any such disturbances as these. ‘With respect to the frontier
raids, they are and must for the present be viewed as events inseparable
from the state of society which for centuries past has existed among the
mountain tribes. They are no more to be regarded as interruptions of the
general peace in India, than the street-brawls which appear among the
everyday proceedings of a police-court in London are regarded as
indications of the existence of civil war in England. I trust,
therefore, that I am guilty of no presumption in saying, that I shall
leave the Indian Empire in peace, without and within.’
Such, then, is a governor-general’s picture of the condition of the
British Empire in India in the spring of 1856: a picture in which there
are scarcely any dark colours, or such as the painter believed to be
dark. We may learn many things from it: among others, a consciousness
how little we even now know of the millions of Hindostan—their motives,
their secrets, their animosities, their aspirations. The bright picture
of 1856, the revolting tragedies of 1857—how little relation does there
appear between them! That there _is_ a relation all must admit, who are
accustomed to study the links of the chain that connect one event with
another; but at what point the relation occurs, is precisely the
question on which men’s opinions will differ until long and
dispassionate attention has been bestowed on the whole subject.
Notes.
[This may be a convenient place in which to introduce a few
observations on three subjects likely to come with much frequency
under the notice of the reader in the following chapters; namely,
the distances between the chief towns in India and the three great
presidential cities—the discrepancies in the current modes of
spelling the names of Indian persons and places—and the meanings of
some of the native words frequently used in connection with Indian
affairs.]
_Distances._—For convenience of occasional reference, a table of
some of the distances in India is here given. It has been compiled
from the larger tables of Taylor, Garden, Hamilton, and Parbury.
Many of the distances are estimated in some publications at smaller
amount, owing, it may be, to the opening of new and shorter routes:
_To Calcutta._ _To Madras._ _To Bombay._
Miles. Miles. Miles.
From Agra 796 1238 754
From Allahabad 498 1151 831
From Arcot 1085 71 715
From Aracan 598 1661 1795
From Benares 428 1151 927
From Bhopal 849 944 492
From Bombay 1185 763
From Calcutta 1063 1185
From Cawnpore 628 1200 854
From Delhi 900 1372 868
From Dinapore 376 1337 1072
From Furrukhabad 722 1257 892
From Gwalior 782 1164 680
From Hyderabad[2] 962 398 434
From Indore 965 979 378
From Jaunpore 473 1196 972
From Jeypoor 921 1352 757
From Kolapoor 1245 584 228
From Kurachee 1610 1567 873
From Lahore 1241 1712 1208
From Lucknow 619 1253 907
From Madras 1063 763
From Masulipatam 797 322 654
From Meerut 906 1405 912
From Moorshedabad 123 1186 1308
From Mysore 1245 290 635
From Nagpoor 677 713 508
From Oodypoor 1139 1209 606
From Patna 369 1299 1065
From Peshawur 1543 2014 1510
From Pondicherry 1157 98 803
From Poonah 1107 667 94
From Rungpoor 271 1334 1456
From Satara 1180 609 163
From Seringapatam 1236 281 626
From Shahjehanpoor 735 1320 936
From Simla 1112 1611 1086
From Surat 1232 867 191
From Tanjore 1257 212 871
From Trichinopoly 1254 209 835
From Umballa 1033 1532 1007
From Umritsir 1193 1664 1160
From Vellore 1100 86 700
From Vizagapatam 557 501 834
_Orthography._—It is perfectly hopeless to attempt here any
settlement of the vexed question of Oriental orthography, the
spelling of the names of Indian persons and places. If we rely
on one governor-general, the next contradicts him; the
commander-in-chief very likely differs from both; authors and
travellers have each a theory of his own; while newspaper
correspondents dash recklessly at any form of word that first
comes to hand. Readers must therefore hold themselves ready for
these complexities, and for detecting the same name under two or
three different forms. The following will suffice to shew our
meaning:—Rajah, raja—nabob, nawab, nawaub—Punjab, Punjaub,
Penjab, Panjab—Vizierabad, Wuzeerabad—Ghengis Khan, Gengis Khan,
Jengis Khan—Cabul, Caboul, Cabool, Kabul—Deccan, Dekkan,
Dukhun—Peshawur, Peshawar—Mahomet, Mehemet, Mohammed, Mahommed,
Muhummud—Sutlej, Sutledge—Sinde, Scinde, Sindh—Himalaya,
Himmaléh—Cawnpore, Cawnpoor—Sikhs, Seiks—Gujerat, Guzerat—Ali,
Alee, Ally—Ghauts, Gauts—Sepoys, Sipahis—Faquir, Fakeer—Oude,
Oudh—Bengali, Bengalee—Burhampooter, Brahmaputra—Asam,
Assam—Nepal, Nepaul—Sikkim, Sikim—Thibet, Tibet—Goorkas,
Ghoorkas—Cashmere, Cashmeer, Kashmir—Doab, Dooab—Sudra,
Soodra—Vishnu, Vishnoo—Buddist, Buddhist, &c. Mr Thornton, in
his excellent Gazetteer of India, gives a curious instance of
this complexity, in _eleven_ modes of spelling the name of one
town, each resting on some good authority—Bikaner, Bhicaner,
Bikaneer, Bickaneer, Bickanere, Bikkaneer, Bhikanere, Beekaneer,
Beekaner, Beykaneer, Bicanere. One more instance will suffice.
Viscount Canning, writing to the directors of the East India
Company concerning the conduct of a sepoy, spelled the man’s
name _Shiek Paltoo_. A fortnight afterwards, the same
governor-general, writing to the same directors about the same
sepoy, presented the name under the form _Shaik Phultoo_. We
have endeavoured as far as possible to make the spelling in the
narrative and the map harmonise.
* * * * *
_Vocabulary._—We here present a vocabulary of about fifty words much
used in India, both in conversation and in writing, connected with
the military and social life of the natives; with the initials or
syllables P., Port., H., M., A., T., Tam., S., to denote whether the
words have been derived from the Persian, Portuguese, Hindustani,
Mahratta, Arabic, Tatar, Tamil, or Sanscrit languages. Tamil or
Tamul is spoken in some of the districts of Southern India. In most
instances, two forms of spelling are given, to prepare the reader
for the discrepancies above adverted to:
_Ab_, _aub_ (P.), water; used in composition thus: _Punjaub_, five
waters, or watered by five rivers; _Doab_, a district between two
rivers, equivalent in meaning to the Greek _Mesopotamia_.
_Abad_ (P.), inhabited; a town or city; such as _Allahabad_, city of
God; _Hyderabad_, city of Hyder.
_Ayah_ (Port.), a nurse; a female attendant on a lady.
_Baba_ (T.), a term of endearment in the domestic circle, nearly
equivalent to the English _dear_, and applied both to a father and
his child.
_Baboo_, a Hindoo title, equivalent to our _Esquire_.
_Bag_, _bágh_, a garden; _Kudsiya bágh_ is a celebrated garden
outside Delhi.
_Bahadoor_ (P.), brave; a title of respect added to the names of
military officers and others.
_Bang_ (P.), an intoxicating potion made from hemp.
_Bazar_, _bazaar_, an exchange or market-place.
_Begum_ (T.), a princess, a lady of high rank.
_Bheestee_, _bihishtí_, a water-carrier.
_Bobachee_, _báwarchí_ (T.), an Indian officer’s cook.
_Budgerow_, _bajrá_ (S.), a Ganges boat of large size.
_Bungalow_, _banglá_ (H.), a house or dwelling.
_Cherry_, _cheri_ (Tam.), village or town; termination to the name
of many places in Southern India; such as _Pondicherry_.
_Chit_, _chittí_ (H.), a note or letter.
_Chupatty_, _chápátí_ (P.), a thin cake of unleavened Indian-corn
bread.
_Coolie_, _kuli_ (T.), a porter or carrier.
_Cutcherry_, _kacharí_ (H.), an official room; a court of justice.
_Dacoit_, _dákáit_ (H.), a gang-robber.
_Dâk_, _dahk_, _dawk_ (H.), the Indian post, and the arrangements
connected with it.
_Dewan_, a native minister or agent.
_Dost_ (P.), a friend.
_Feringhee_, a Frank or European.
_Fakeer_, _fakír_ (A.), a mendicant devotee.
_Ghazee_, _ghazi_ (A.), a true believer who fights against infidels:
hence _Ghazeepoor_, city of the faithful.
_Golundauze_, _golandáz_ (P.), a native artilleryman.
_Havildar_ (P.), a native sergeant.
_Jehad_ (A.), a holy war.
_Jemadar_ (P.), a native lieutenant.
_Jhageerdar_, _jaghiredar_, _jágírdár_ (P.), the holder of land
granted for services.
_Mohurrum_ (A.), a fast held sacred by Mohammedans on the tenth day
of the first month in their year, equivalent to the 25th of July.
_Musjid_ (A.), a mosque; thence _jumma musjid_ or _jum’aah masjid_,
a cathedral or chief mosque.
_Naik_, _naig_ (S.), a native corporal.
_Náná_, _nena_ (M.), grandfather, a term of respect or precedence
among the Mahrattas; _Náná Sahib_, so far from being a family or
personal name, is simply a combination of two terms of respect
(see _Sahib_) for a person whose real name was Dhundu Punt.
_Nawab_, _nabob_, _núwáb_ (A.), derived from _náib_, a viceroy or
vicegerent.
_Nuddee_, _nadi_ (S.), a river.
_Nullah_, _nálá_ (H.), a brook, water-course, the channel of a
torrent.
_Patam_, _pattanam_ (S.), a town; the termination of the names of
many places in Southern India; such as _Seringapatam_, the city of
Shrí Ranga, a Hindoo divinity.
_Peon_ (P.), a messenger or foot-attendant.
_Pore_, _poor_, a town; the final syllable in many significant
names, such as _Bhurtpore_ or _Bharatpoor_, the town of Bharata.
_Rajpoot_, a Hindoo of the military caste or order; there is one
particular province in Upper India named from them _Rajpootana_.
_Ryot_, a peasant cultivator.
_Sahib_, _saheb_, _sáaib_ (A.), lord; a gentleman.
_Sepoy_, _sípahí_, in the Bengal presidency, a native soldier in the
Company’s service; in that of Bombay, it often has the meaning of
a peon or foot-messenger.
_Shahzadah_ (P.), prince; king’s son.
_Sowar_ (P.), a native horseman or trooper.
_Subadar_, _soubahdar_ (A.), a native captain.
_Tuppal_, _tappál_ (H.), a packet of letters; the post.
_Zemindar_, _zamindár_ (P.), a landowner.
-----
Footnote 1:
The visitor to the British Museum, in one of the saloons of the
Ethnological department, will find a very remarkable series of
figures, modelled by a native Hindoo, of the individuals forming a
gang of Thugs; all in their proper costumes, and all as they are (or
were) usually engaged in the successive processes of entrapping,
strangling, and burying a traveller, and then dividing the booty.
Footnote 2:
There are two Hyderabads—one in the Nizam’s dominions in the Deccan,
and the other in Sinde (spelt Hydrabad): it is the former here
intended.
CHAPTER I.
THE ANGLO-INDIAN ARMY AT THE TIME OF THE OUTBREAK.
The magnificent India which began to revolt from England in the early
months of 1857; which continued that Revolt until it spread to many
thousands of square miles; which conducted the Revolt in a manner that
appalled all the civilised world by its unutterable horrors—this India
was, after all, not really unsound at its core. It was not so much the
_people_ who rebelled, as the _soldiers_. Whatever grievances the
hundred and seventy millions of human beings in that wonderful country
may have had to bear; whatever complaints may have been justifiable on
their parts against their native princes or the British government; and
whatever may have been the feelings of those native princes towards the
British—all of which matters will have to be considered in later
chapters of this work—still it remains incontestable that the outbreak
was a military revolt rather than a national rebellion. The Hindoo
foot-soldier, fed and paid by the British, ran off with his arms and his
uniform, and fought against those who had supported him; the Mohammedan
trooper, with his glittering equipments and his fine horse, escaped with
both in like manner, and became suddenly an enemy instead of a friend
and servant. What effect this treachery may have had on the populace of
the towns, is another question: we have at present only to do with the
military origin of the struggle.
Here, therefore, it becomes at once necessary that the reader should be
supplied with an intelligible clue to the series of events, a groundwork
on which his appreciation of them may rest. As this work aims at
something more than a mere record of disasters and victories, all the
parts will be made to bear some definite relation one to another; and
the first of these relations is—between the mutinous movements
themselves, and the soldiers who made those movements. Before we can
well understand what the sepoys _did_, we must know who the sepoys
_are_; before we can picture to ourselves an Indian regiment in revolt,
we must know of what elements it consists, and what are its usages when
in cantonments or when on the march; and before we can appreciate the
importance of two presidential armies remaining faithful while that of
Bengal revolted, we must know what is meant by a presidency, and in what
way the Anglo-Indian army bears relation to the territorial divisions of
India. We shall not need for these purposes to give here a formal
history of Hindostan, nor a history of the rise and constitution of the
East India Company, nor an account of the manners and customs of the
Hindoos, nor a narrative of the British wars in India in past ages, nor
a topographical description of India—many of these subjects will demand
attention in later pages; but at present only so much will be touched
upon as is necessary for the bare understanding of the _facts_ of the
Revolt, leaving the _causes_ for the present in abeyance.
What are the authoritative or official divisions of the country in
reference to the governors who control and the soldiers who fight (or
ought to fight) for it? What are the modes in which a vast region,
extending more than a thousand miles in many different directions, is or
may be traversed by rebel soldiers who fight against their employers,
and by true soldiers who punish the rebels? What and who are the
soldiers thus adverted to; how many, of what races, how levied, how paid
and supported, where cantoned, how officered? These are the three
subjects that will occupy a brief chapter; after which the narrative of
the Revolt may with profit be at once entered upon.
And first, for India as an immense country governed by a people living
eight or ten thousand miles distant. Talk as we may, there are few among
us who can realise the true magnitude of this idea—the true bearing of
the relation borne by two small islands in a remote corner of Europe to
a region which has been famed since the time of Alexander the Great. The
British Empire in India—what does it denote? Even before the acquisition
of Oude, Pegu, and Nagpoor, the British possessions in India covered
nearly 800,000 square miles; but as the influence of England is
gradually extending over the protected and the hitherto independent
states, we shall best conceive the whole (without Pegu, which is
altogether eastward of what is considered India) as a compact territory
of 1,400,000 square miles—twelve times as large as the United Kingdom,
sixteen times as large as Great Britain, twenty-five times as large as
England and Wales: double the size, in fact, of Great Britain, France,
Spain, Portugal, Italy, Belgium, Holland, Prussia, and Switzerland, all
combined. Nor is this, like the Russian Empire, a vast but thinly
populated region. It contains at least a hundred and eighty millions of
human beings, more than a hundred and thirty millions of whom are the
direct subjects of Queen Victoria—that is, if anything _can_ be direct,
connected with the anomalous relations between the Crown and the East
India Company.
It comes within the knowledge of most intelligent English readers at the
present day, that this Indian Empire, governed by a curiously
complicated bargain between a sovereign and a company, has been growing
for a hundred years, and still continues growing. In fits of national
anger or international generosity, we inveigh against the Czar of Russia
for processes of aggression and plans of annexation in regions around
and between the Caspian and Black Seas, and we compassionate and assist
his weak neighbours under the pressure of his ambition; but it is only
in times of excitement or peril that we consider the extraordinary way
in which our own Indian Empire has been built up—by conquest, by
purchase, by forfeiture—and in some cases by means which, called robbery
by our enemies, do at any rate demand a little compunction from us as a
Christian people. Exactly a century ago, England scarcely occupied a
foot of ground in India; her power was almost crushed out by the native
nawab who rendered himself infamous by the episode of the Black Hole at
Calcutta; and it was in the year after that atrocity—namely, in 1757,
that Clive began those wonderful victories which established a permanent
basis for a British Empire in Hindostan. And what a continuous growth by
increment has since been displayed! The Pergunnahs, Masulipatam,
Burdwan, Midnapore, Chittagong, Bengal, Bahar, the Northern Circars,
Benares, all passed into British hands by the year 1775; the next
twenty-five years brought to us the ownership of Salsette, Nagore, Pulo
Penang, Malabar, Dindigul, Salem, Barramahal, Coimbatore, Canara,
Tanjore, and portions of the Deccan and Mysore; in the first quarter of
the present century the list was increased by the Carnatic, Gorukhpore,
the Doab, Bareilly, portions of Bundelcund, Cuttack, Balasore, Delhi,
Gujerat, Kumaon, Saugor, Khandeish, Ajmeer, Poonah, the Concan, portions
of Mahratta country, districts in Bejapore and Ahmednuggur, Singapore,
and Malacca; in the next period of equal length the acquisitions
included Assam, Aracan, Tenasserim, the Nerbudda districts, Patna,
Sumbhulpore, Koorg, Loodianah, Kurnaul, Sinde, and the Jullundur Doab;
while during the eight years of the Marquis of Dalhousie’s
administration, as we learn on his own authority, there were added Pegu,
the Punjaub, Nagpoor, Oude, Satara, Jhansi, and Berar—all these in
exactly a century.
The whole of British India is placed under a governor-general, whose
official residence is at Calcutta, and who is assisted by a kind of
cabinet or council of ministers. Formerly there were three presidencies,
under whom the whole territory was placed; two being under the governors
of Bombay and Madras, and the remainder, called the Bengal presidency,
being under the governor-general himself, who was to this extent vested
with a special as well as a general government. But in process of time
it was found impossible for this official to fulfil all the duties
imposed upon him; and the great Bengal presidency became subdivided.
There are now five local governors of great districts—the
governor-general himself, who directly rules many of the newly acquired
regions; the lieutenant-governor of the Northwest Provinces, who rules
some of the country formerly included in the presidency of Bengal; the
lieutenant-governor of the Lower Provinces, who rules the rest of that
country; and the governors of Madras and Bombay, whose range of
territory has not undergone much increase in recent years. Let us learn
a little concerning each of these five.
Madras, as a presidency or government, includes the whole of the south
of India, where its narrowed, peninsular form is most apparent, up to
about latitude 16° north, together with a strip still further north on
the east or Coromandel coast. Its greatest inland extent is about 950
miles in one direction, and 450 in another; while its shores are washed
by the Indian Ocean and the Bay of Bengal along a coast-line of no less
than 1700 miles—unfortunately, however, very ill provided with ports and
anchorages. There are about thirty districts and states under the
governor’s rule—some as ‘regulation districts,’ others as
‘non-regulation districts,’ and others as ‘native states.’ The
difference between these three kinds may be thus briefly indicated: the
‘regulation’ districts are thoroughly British, and are governed directly
by the chief of the presidency; the ‘non-regulation’ districts are now
equally British, though of more recent acquisition, but are governed by
agents or commissioners; while the ‘native states’ have still their
native princes, ‘protected,’ or rather controlled by the British.
Without any formal enumeration, it may be well to remember that the
following names of some of these districts, all more or less familiar to
English readers as the names of towns or provinces, are included among
those belonging to the presidency or government of Madras—Masulipatam,
Nellore, Chingleput, Madras, Arcot, Cuddalore, Cuddapah, Salem,
Coimbatore, Trichinopoly, Tanjore, Madura, Tinnevelly, Malabar, Canara,
Vizagapatam, Kurnaul, Koorg,[3] Cochin, Mysore, Travancore. Some of
these are not absolutely British; but their independence is little more
than a name. There are various important towns, or places worth knowing
in connection with Indian affairs, which are included in some or other
of these districts, but not giving their names to them—such as
Seringapatam, Golcandah, Rajamandry, Juggernaut, Vellore, Pulicat,
Pondicherry (French), Tranquebar, Negapatam, Bangalore, Ootacamund,
Mangalore, Calicut.
Bombay, as a presidency, is a curiously shaped strip. Exclusive of the
subordinate territories of native princes (over which, however, the
Company exercises paramount political sway) and of Sinde, which, though
recently placed under the government of Bombay, may properly be regarded
as a distinct territory—exclusive of these, the presidency occupies a
narrow strip, of irregular outline, stretching for a considerable
distance north and south. It occupies the western coast of the
peninsula, from Gujerat on the north, to the small Portuguese settlement
of Goa on the south; and has a length of 650 miles, with a maximum
breadth of 240. The Bombay provinces included in the strip just noticed,
the neighbouring territories administered by or on behalf of native
princes, and Sinde, form three sections about equal in size, the whole
collectively being thrice as large as England and Wales. To assist the
memory, as in the last paragraph, we give the names of the chief
districts likely to be known to English readers—all of which either
belong absolutely to the presidency of Bombay, or are more or less under
the control of the governor—Surat, Baroche, Ahmedabad, Khandeish,
Poonah, Ahmednuggur, Bombay, Concan, Satara, Baroda, Kattywar, Kolapore,
Cutch, the Mahratta districts, Kurachee, Hyderabad, Shikarpore,
Khyrpore. The last four are districts of Sinde, conquered by the late
Sir Charles James Napier, and placed under the Bombay presidency as
being nearer at hand than any of the others. Besides the towns similarly
named to most of these districts, the following may be usefully
mentioned—Goa (Portuguese), Bejapore, Bassein, Aurungabad, Assaye,
Nuseerabad, Cambay.
Lower Bengal, or the Lower Provinces of Bengal, considered as a
sub-presidency or lieutenant-government, comprises all the eastern
portion of British India, bounded on the east by the Burmese and Chinese
Empires, and on the north by Nepaul, Sikim, and Bhotan; southward, it is
washed by the Bay of Bengal; while inland or westward, it reaches to a
point on the Ganges a little beyond Patna, but not so far as Benares.
Fancy might compare it in shape to a dumb-bell, surmounting the upper
part of the Bay of Bengal, which washes its shores throughout a distance
of 900 miles. Without reckoning native states under the control of the
Company, this lieutenant-governorship is considerably more than three
times as large as England and Wales; and nearly the whole of it is in
the basins of, or drained by, the two magnificent rivers Ganges and
Brahmaputra. On the principle before adopted, we give the names of
districts most likely to become familiarised to the reader—Jessore,
Burdwan, Bancorah, Bhaugulpore, Monghir, Cuttack, Balasore, Midnapore,
Moorshedabad, Rungpoor, Dacca, Silhet, Patna, Bahar, Chittagong, the
Sunderbunds, Assam, Aracan. Most of these are also the names of towns,
each the chief in its district; but there are other important towns and
places not here named—including Calcutta, Cossimbazar, Barrackpore,
Chandernagore, Serampore, Culpee, Purneah, Boglipore, Rajmahal, Nagore,
Raneegunge, Jellasore, Dinapore, Bahar, Ramghur, Burhampore.
Northwest Bengal, or the Northwestern Provinces of the Bengal
presidency, regarded as a sub-presidency or lieutenant-governorship,
comprises some of the most important and densely populated districts of
Northern India. It covers seven degrees of latitude and nine of
longitude; or, if the portion of the ‘non-regulation’ districts under
the control of this lieutenant-governor be included, the range extends
to ten degrees of latitude and twelve of longitude. Its boundary is
roughly marked by the neighbouring provinces or states of Sirhind,
Kumaon, Nepaul, Oude, Lower Bengal, Rewah, Bundelcund, and Scindiah’s
Mahratta territory; but many of these are included among its
‘non-regulation’ territories. In its limited, strictly British
territory, it is a little larger than England and Wales; but including
the ‘non-regulation’ provinces, such as Kumaon, Ajmeer, Saugor, &c., it
is vastly larger. As the chief city is Agra, the lieutenant-governorship
is often called by that name: more convenient, perhaps, than the one
officially adopted—indeed it was at one time determined, though the plan
has been postponed _sine die_, to form an entirely new and distinct
presidency, called the Presidency of Agra. The Ganges and the Jumna are
the great rivers that permeate it. As before, we give the names of the
most familiarly known divisions or districts—Delhi, Meerut, Allygurh,
Rohilcund, Bareilly, Shahjehanpoor, Bijnour, Agra, Furruckabad,
Allahabad, Cawnpore, Futtehpore, Benares, Gorukhpore, Azimghur,
Jounpore, Mirzapore, Ghazeepore; and if to these we add the names of
towns not indicated by the names of their districts—such as Simla,
Sirhind, Umballa, Loodianah, Shahabad, Buxar—it will be seen how many
places noted more or less in Indian affairs lie within this province or
lieutenant-governorship.
For the sake of brevity, it may here be remarked, we shall frequently,
in future chapters, use the names ‘Northwest Bengal’ and ‘Lower Bengal,’
instead of the tedious designations ‘Northwestern Provinces’ and
‘Lieutenant Government of Bengal.’
As to the fifth or remaining sphere of government—that which is under
the governor-general himself—it is with difficulty described; so many
are the detached scraps and patches. The overworked representative of
the crown, whether his name be Auckland or Ellenborough, Dalhousie or
Canning, finding the governorship of Bengal too onerous when added to
the governor-generalship of the whole of India, gives up his special
care of Bengal, divides it into two sub-provinces, and hands it over to
the two lieutenant-governors. But the increase of territory in British
India has been so vast within the last few years, and the difficulty so
great of deciding to which presidency they ought to belong, that they
have been made into a fifth dominion or government, under the
governor-general himself. The great and important country of the
Punjaub, acquired a few years ago, is one of the list; it is under the
governor-general, and is administered for him by a board of
commissioners. The kingdom of Oude is another, annexed in 1856, and
similarly represented by residents or commissioners acting for and under
the orders of the governor-general. The province of Nagpoor is a third:
a large country in the very centre of India, annexed in 1853, and nearly
touching all the four governorships already described. Pegu is a fourth,
wrested from the sultan of Burmah, in 1852, and placed under the
governor-general’s administration. A fifth is Tenasserim, a strip of
country stretching five hundred miles along the eastern shore of the Bay
of Bengal. There are other fragments; but the above will suffice to shew
that the governor-general has no inconsiderable amount of territory
under his immediate control, represented by his commissioners. If we
look at the names of places included within these limits, we shall be
struck with their number and importance in connection with stirring
events in India. In the Punjaub we find Peshawur, Attock, Rawul Pindee,
Jelum, Ramnugur, Chillianwalla, Wuzeerabad, Umritsir, Lahore, Jullundur,
Ghoorka, Ferozpore, Ferozshah, Moodkee; in the once independent but now
British province or kingdom of Oude will be found the names of Lucknow,
Oude, Fyzabad, Sultanpore, Khyrabad; in the territory of Nagpoor is the
town of the same name, but other towns of any note are scarce. In Pegu
and Tenasserim, both ultra-Gangetic or eastward of the Ganges, we find
Rangoon, Bassein, Prome, Moulmein, and Martaban.
The reader has here before him about a hundred and forty names of places
in this rapid sketch of the great divisional governments of India,
mostly the names of important towns; and—without any present details
concerning modes of government, or numbers governed, natural wealth or
social condition—we believe he will find his comprehension of the events
of the great Revolt much aided by a little attention to this account of
the five governments into which British India is at present divided. As
for the _original_ names of kingdoms and provinces, nawabships and
rajahships, it scarcely repays the trouble to learn them: when the
native chiefs were made pensioned puppets, the former names of their
possessions became of lessened value, and many of them are gradually
disappearing from the maps. We have ‘political residents,’ ‘government
agents,’ or ‘commissioners,’ at the capital city of almost every prince
in India; to denote that, though the prince may hold the trappings of
royalty, there is a watchful master scrutinising his proceedings, and
claiming something to do with his military forces. Such is the case at
Hyderabad in the Nizam’s territory, at Khatmandoo in Nepaul, at Gwalior
in Scindiah’s dominions, at Indore in Holkar’s dominions, at Bhopal, in
the country of the same name, at Bhurtpore and elsewhere in the Rajpoot
princes’ dominions, at Darjeeling in Sikim, at Baroda in the Guicowar’s
dominions, &c.
The semi-independent princes of India—mostly rajahs if Hindoos, nawabs
if Mohammedans—are certainly placed in a most anomalous position. There
are nearly two hundred of these vassal-kings, if we may so term
them—some owning territories as large as European kingdoms, while others
claim dominion over bits of country not larger than petty German
principalities. The whole of them have treaties and engagements with the
British government, involving the reciprocal obligations of protection
and allegiance. Some of them pay tribute, others do not; but almost all
have formally relinquished the right of self-defence, and also that of
maintaining diplomatic relations with each other. The princes are
regarded as children, expected to look up for protection only to their
great mother, the Company. The Company undertakes not only to guarantee
external safety but also internal tranquillity in these states, and is
the umpire in all quarrels between native rulers. Though not called
upon, and indeed not allowed, to defend themselves from an external
attack, the princes mostly have armies, more for show than use under
ordinary circumstances; but then they must obtain permission to do this,
and they must limit the numbers; and in some cases there is a
stipulation that if the British be at war in India, the prince must lend
his troops. It is in this sense that the independent princes of India
are said to possess, collectively, an armed force of little less than
four hundred thousand men: many of them available, according to treaty,
for British service.
Next, we may usefully pay a little attention to this question—How, in so
immense a country, do the soldiers and subjects of these several states,
British and native, travel from place to place: how do they cross
mountains where passes are few, or marshes and sandy plains where roads
are few and bad, or broad rivers where bridges are scarce? The distances
traversed by the armies are sometimes enormous. Let us open a map of
India, and see, for example, the relative positions of Calcutta, Madras,
Bombay, Delhi, Peshawur, and Kurachee at the western mouth of the Indus.
Delhi is nearly nine hundred miles from Bombay, more than nine hundred
from Calcutta by land, fifteen or sixteen hundred miles from the same
city by water-route up the Ganges and Jumna, and nearly fourteen hundred
from Madras. Kurachee, the most westerly spot in India, and destined one
day, perhaps, to be an important depôt for steamers from the Red Sea or
the Persian Gulf, is more than sixteen hundred miles from Calcutta,
nearly across the broadest part of India from east to west; while
Peshawur, at the extreme northwest or Afghan frontier, acquired by
England when the Punjaub was annexed, is no less than _two thousand_
miles from Madras. All opinions and judgments, concerning the slowness
of operations in India, must be tempered by a consideration of these
vast distances.
The rivers were the great highways of that country before roads existed,
as in other regions; and they have never ceased to be the most
frequented routes. At least such is the case in relation to the larger
rivers—such as the Ganges, Indus, Nerbudda, Kishna, Jumna, Sutlej, and
Jelum. Hindoos and Mohammedans, too poor to hire horses or palkees for
land-travel, may yet be able to avail themselves of their river-boats.
The native boats which work on the Ganges are numerous and curious in
kind. The _patella_ or baggage-boat is of saul-wood, clinker-built, and
flat-bottomed, with rather slanting outsides, and not so manageable as a
punt or a London barge; its great breadth gives it a very light draught
of water, and renders it fittest for the cotton and other up-country
products, which require little more than a dry and secure raft to float
them down the stream. The _oolak_ or common baggage-boat of the Hoogly
and Central Bengal, has a sharp bow and smooth rounded sides; it is
fitted for tracking and sailing before the wind, and is tolerably
manageable with the oar in smooth water. The Dacca _pulwar_ is more
weatherly, although, like the rest, without keel, and the fastest and
most handy boat in use for general traffic. The _budgerow_, the
_bauleah_, and the ketch-rigged pinnace, are employed by Europeans for
their personal conveyance. Besides these, there are numerous others—such
as the wood-boats of the Sunderbunds, of various forms and
dimensions—from one hundred to six thousand maunds burden (a maund being
about equal to 100 pounds troy); the salt-boats of Tumlook; the light
boats which carry betel-leaf; the Calcutta _bhur_, or cargo-boat of the
port; the Chittagong boats; the light _mug_-boats, with floors of a
single hollowed piece of timber, and raised sides, neatly attached by
sewing, with strips of bamboo over the seams; the _dinghee_; and the
_panswee_—all found within the limits of the Bengal presidency. ‘A
native traveller, according to his degree and substance, engages a
dinghee or a panswee, a pulwar or an oolak; the man of wealth puts his
baggage and attendants in these, and provides a budgerow or a pinnace
for his personal accommodation. Officers of high standing in the civil
or military service, travelling with a large retinue of servants and a
quantity of baggage, seldom have less than five or six boats (one of
them a cooking-boat, and another fitted with an oven for baking bread):
sometimes as many as fifteen when they carry their horses and equipages,
and the materials of housekeeping for their comfortable establishment on
arrival.’
Before Indian steamers were introduced, or Indian railways thought of,
the Ganges was the great highway from Calcutta to Benares, Allahabad,
and the northwestern provinces generally, in all cases where speed was
not required. The Indian government used to allow their military
servants two months and a half for proceeding to Benares, three to
Allahabad, five to Meerut, and nine to Loodianah—periods that seem to
us, in the old country, outrageous in their length. The boats were
chiefly of two of the kinds mentioned in the preceding paragraph—namely,
the pinnace, very European in its appearance, and the lofty sterned
budgerow, peculiarly Indian. Even after steamers were placed upon the
Ganges, the slow-going budgerow continued to be much used by the
Company’s officers, and by other persons going northwest—chiefly in
cases where a family and a large quantity of luggage or personal effects
had to be conveyed; for every other mode than the budgerow then becomes
very costly—and will probably so continue until the great trunk-railway
is completed. Budgerow boating is, it must be confessed, enough to
stagnate the blood of an active man who wishes to speed onward to a
scene of usefulness. As the tide ends at a few miles above Calcutta,
there is a constant downward current throughout all the rest of the
Ganges; and this current has to be struggled against during the
up-passage. If the wind be favourable, sails are hoisted; but if
otherwise, progress is made by _gooning_ or tracking, an operation
performed by the greater part of the crew proceeding on shore, and with
ropes attached to the mast-head, dragging the vessel bodily along:
wading for hours, it may be, through nullahs or creeks more than breast
high. The travellers spend much of their time on shore in the cooler
hours of the morning and evening, walking, fishing, or shooting, or
otherwise whiling away their time; for they can easily keep up with a
boat that only makes ten miles per average day. The Company have been
accustomed to make a certain allowance to each officer for
boat-accommodation up the country; and it is not unusual for two or
three to join in the hire of one budgerow, to their mutual comfort, and
with a small saving out of their allowance. They engage an attendant
dinghee as a cook-boat, to keep the culinary operations at a respectful
distance; and they fit up their budgerow with camp-tables, camp-stools,
charpoys or light bedsteads, copper chillumchees or wash-basins, rugs,
hanging lamps, canteens, bullock or camel trunks, and a few other
articles of furniture; with wine, spirits, ale, preserves, cheeses,
pickles, salt meats, hams, tongues, and other provisions, which are
cheaper at Calcutta than if purchased on the way; and with their
wardrobes, articles for the toilet, books, chess and backgammon boards,
guns, musical instruments, and other aids to lessen the tedium of a long
voyage.
Hitherto, commerce has had so much more to do with this Ganges traffic
than passenger travel, that the slowness of the progress was not felt:
as in the instance of the canals of England, which, made for goods and
not for passengers, are not blameable on the score of tardiness. The
Ganges is now, as it has been for ages, the main channel for the
commerce of Northern India. The produce of Europe, of Southern India, of
the Eastern Archipelago, of China, brought to Calcutta by ocean-going
steamers or sailing-ships, is distributed upwards to Patna, Benares,
Allahabad, Lucknow, Cawnpore, Agra, Delhi, and other great towns, almost
exclusively by the Ganges route; and the same boats which convey these
cargoes, bring down the raw cotton, indigo, opium, rice, sugar, grain,
rich stuffs, piece-goods, and other grown or manufactured commodities
from the interior, either for consumption at Calcutta and other towns on
the route, or for shipment to England and elsewhere. It is probable that
the cargo-boats and the budgerows will continue to convey a largo
proportion of the traffic of India, let steamers and railways make what
progress they may; for there is much local trading that can be better
managed by this slow, stopping, free-and-easy Ganges route of boating.
[Illustration:
Boats on the Ganges.
]
The Ganges steamers are peculiar. Each consists of two vessels, a
_tug_ and a _flat_, neither of which is of much use without the other.
The tug contains the engine; the flat contains the passengers and
cargo; and this double arrangement seems to have been adopted as a
means of insuring light draught. Each flat contains fifteen or twenty
cabins, divided into three classes according to the accommodation, and
obtainable at a fare of twenty to thirty pounds for each cabin for a
voyage from Calcutta up to Allahabad—less in the reverse direction,
because the aid of the stream shortens the voyage. Besides this, the
passenger pays for all his provisions, and most of the furniture of
his cabin. Every passenger is allowed to take one servant free of
passage fare. The steamer proceeds only during the day, anchoring
every night; and it stops every three or four days, to take coals into
the tug, and to deliver and receive passengers. The chief of these
stopping-places are at the towns of Berhampore, Monghir, Patna,
Dinapoor, Chupra, Buxar, Ghazeepore, Benares, Chunar, and Mirzapore,
all situated on the banks of the Ganges between Calcutta and
Allahabad; and it is only during the two or three hours of these
stoppages that the passengers have an opportunity of rambling on the
shore by daylight. The tug is of iron, and drags the flat by means of
hawsers and a long beam, which latter serves both as a gangway and to
prevent collision between the two vessels. The East India Company
first established these steamers, but others have followed their
example, and help to keep up a healthy competition. The river distance
to Allahabad being eight hundred miles (three hundred in excess of the
land route), and the time of transit being about twenty days, this
gives forty miles per day as the average rate of progress of the tug
and its attendant flat or accommodation-boat. Of proposed plans for
improving this Ganges steaming, we do not speak in this place.
The Indus is less traversed by boats and steamers; but, being nearer to
England than the Ganges, it is becoming more and more important every
year, especially since the annexation of the Punjaub by the British. The
boats on the Indus take up the produce of the Persian and Arabian gulfs,
Cutch, the western districts of India, and so much of the produce of
Europe as is available for Sinde, the Punjaub, and the northwest of
India generally: taking back the produce of Afghanistan, Cashmere, the
Punjaub, Sinde, and the neighbouring countries. The boats on this river,
having fewer European travellers, do not possess so many accommodations
as those on the Ganges; the scantiness of the population, too, and the
semi-barbarous condition of the natives, tend towards the same result.
The Sutlej boats, mostly employed, are long and clumsy; when going
downwards, the stream gives them a velocity of about two miles an hour,
while the oars and sail give them barely another extra mile. They
correspond, indeed, rather with our idea of a Thames coal-barge, than
with that of a boat. The steersman and two oarsmen are at the stern,
working with a broad paddle and two oars. The passengers occupy the rest
of the vessel, in a rude bamboo cabin twelve or fourteen feet long. When
the wind and the stream are unfavourable, the sail is hauled down, and
tracking is resorted to. As the up-river return-voyage is exceedingly
slow, a passenger travelling down towards the sea is obliged to pay for
the return-voyage as well. As there are hardly any important towns on
the banks below the Punjaub, except Hyderabad, a traveller is obliged to
take almost the whole of his provisions and necessaries with him. The
journey up the stream is so insupportably tedious by these boats, that
small steamers are generally preferred; but these require very light
draught and careful handling, to prevent them from grounding on the
shoals and sandbanks, which are more numerous in the Indus than in the
Ganges.
River-travelling, it hence appears, is a very slow affair, ruinously
inadequate to the wants of any but a population in a low scale of
commercial advancement. Let us inquire, therefore, whether
land-travelling is in a condition to remedy these evils.
There are so few good roads in India, that wheel-carriages can scarcely
be trusted for any long distances. The prevailing modes of travel are on
horseback or in a palanquin. Technically, the one mode is called
_marching_; the other, _dâk_, _dakh_, or _dawk_. The former is sometimes
adopted for economy; sometimes from necessity while accompanying troops;
and sometimes, on short trips, through inclination; but as it is almost
impossible to travel on horseback during the heat of the day, the more
expensive but more regular dâk is in greater request. The horseman, when
he adopts the equestrian system, accomplishes from twelve to twenty
miles a day: sending on his servants one march or day in advance, with
tent, bedding, tent-furniture, canteen, &c., in order that they may have
a meal ready for the traveller by the time he arrives. They daily buy
fodder, fowls, eggs, milk, rice, fruit, or vegetables at the villages as
they pass through; the traveller, if a sportsman, aids the supply of his
larder with snipe, wild-fowl, quail, partridges, hares, jungle-cocks, or
bustard; but a week’s provision at a time must be made of all such
supplies as tea, coffee, dried or preserved meats, sauces, spices, beer,
or wine, at the principal towns—as these commodities are either
unattainable or very costly at the smaller stations and villages. Thus
the traveller proceeds, accomplishing eighty to a hundred and fifty
miles per week, according to his supply of horse-relays. We may get rid
of the European notions of inns and hotels on the road: the India
officer must carry his hotel with him.
We come next to the _dâk_ system, much more prevalent than travelling by
horseback. The dâk is a sort of government post, available for private
individuals as for officials. A traveller having planned his journey, he
applies to the postmaster of the district, who requires from one to
three days’ notice, according to the extent of accommodation needed. The
usual complement for one traveller consists of eight _palkee-burdars_ or
palanquin-bearers, two _mussanjees_ or torch-bearers, and two
_bangey-burdars_ or luggage-porters: if less than this number be needed,
the fact must be notified. The time and place of starting, and the
duration and localities of the halts, must also be stated; for
everything is to be paid beforehand, on the basis of a regular tariff.
The charge is about one shilling per mile for the entire set of twelve
men—shewing at how humble a rate personal services are purchasable in
India. There is also an extra charge for demurrage or delays on the
road, attributable to the traveller himself. For these charges, the
postmaster undertakes that there shall be relays of dâk servants
throughout the whole distance, even if it be the nine hundred miles from
Calcutta to Delhi; and to insure this, he writes to the different
villages and post stations, ordering relays to be ready at the appointed
hours. The stages average about ten miles each, accomplished in three
hours; at the end of which time the twelve men retrace their steps, and
are succeeded by another twelve; for each set of men belong to a
particular station, in the same way as each team of horses for an
English stage-coach belongs to a particular town. The rivers and streams
on the route are mostly crossed by ferry-boats, for bridges are scarce
in India; and this ferrying is included in the fare charged by the
postmaster; although the traveller is generally expected to give a small
fee, the counterpart to the ‘drink-money’ of Europe, to ferrymen as well
as bearers. The _palanquin_, _palankeen_, or _palkee_, is a kind of
wooden box opening at the sides by sliding shutters; it is about six
feet in length by four in height, and is suspended by two poles, borne
on the shoulders of four men. The eight bearers relieve one another in
two gangs of four each. The postmaster has nought to do with the
palanquin; this is provided by the traveller; and on its judicious
selection depends much of his comfort during the journey, for a
break-down entails a multitude of petty miseries. The average value of a
palanquin may be about ten pounds; and the traveller can generally
dispose of it again at the end of his journey. On account of the weight,
nothing is carried that can be easily dispensed with; but the traveller
manages to fit up his palanquin with a few books, his shaving and
washing apparatus, his writing materials, and a few articles in frequent
use. The regular fittings of the palanquin are a cushion or bed, a
bolster, and a few light coverings. The traveller’s luggage is mostly
carried in _petarrahs_, tin boxes or wicker-baskets about half a yard
square: a porter can carry two of these; and one or two porters will
suffice for the demands of any ordinary traveller, running before or by
the side of the palanquin. The petarrahs are hung, each from one end of
a _bangey_ or bamboo pole, the middle of which rests on the bearer’s
shoulder. The torch-bearers run by the side of the palanquin to give
light during night-travelling; the torch is simply a short stick bound
round at one end with a piece of rag or a tuft of hemp, on which oil is
occasionally dropped from a flask or a hollow bamboo; the odour of the
oil-smoke is disagreeable, and most travellers are glad to dispense with
the services of a second torch-bearer.
[Illustration:
Palanquin.
]
Bishop Heber’s journey from Delhi to Benares was a good example of
dâk-travelling in his day; and the system has altered very little since.
He had twelve bearers, on account of his route lying partly through a
broken country. His clothes and writing-desk were placed in the two
petarrahs, carried by the two bangey-burdars. ‘The men set out across
the meadows at a good round trot of about four miles an hour, grunting
all the way like paviers in England: a custom which, like paviers, they
imagine eases them under their burden.’ Only four men can usually put
their shoulders to a palanquin at the same time; but the bishop observed
that whenever they approached a deep nullah or steep bank, the bearers
who were not at that time bearing the palanquin, but were having their
interval of rest, thrust stout bamboos under the bottom of the
palanquin, and took hold of the ends on each side; so that the strength
of several additional men was brought into requisition. In crossing a
stream, ‘the boat (the spot being a regular ferry), a broad and
substantial one, had a platform of wood covered with clay across its
middle. The palanquin, with me in it, was placed on this with its length
athwart the middle; the mangee steered, and some of the dâk-bearers took
up oars, so that we were across in a very short time.’
Private dâks are occasionally employed, a speculator undertaking to
supply the bearers. Having no large establishments to keep up, these men
can afford to undersell the government—that is, establish a lower
tariff; and they provide a little additional accommodation in other
ways. Some travellers, however, think these speculators or _chowdries_
not sufficiently to be trusted, and prefer the government dâk at higher
rates. Experienced men will sometimes dispense with the preliminary of
‘laying a dâk,’ or arranging for the whole journey: depending on their
own sagacity for hunting up bearers at the successive stations. There
have also been introduced horse-dâks, wheeled palanquins drawn by
horses; but these are only available on the great trunk-roads recently
executed by the government.
It was observed, in relation to ‘marching’ or horse-travelling, that
there are no hotels or inns on the road; there is a partial substitute,
however, that may here be noticed. The Company have established
dâk-bungalows at certain stations, varying from fifteen to fifty miles
apart, according as the road is much or little frequented. These places
are under the control of government officers: a _khitmutgar_ or servant,
and a porter, attend at each; the traveller pays a fixed sum for the use
of the room, and makes a separate bargain for any few articles of
provisions that may be obtainable. The building is little more than a
thatched house of one story, divided into two small rooms, to each of
which a bathing-room is attached. The servant cooks and serves a meal,
while the porter assists in subsidiary offices. If a traveller does not
choose to avail himself of these bungalows, he can travel continuously
in his palanquin, sleeping and waking by turns. This, however, is a
great trial for most persons; because the bearers make an unpleasant
grunting noise as an accompaniment to their movements; and moreover,
unless well drilled, they do not balance the palanquin well, but subject
its inmate to distressing joltings.
[Illustration:
Indian Domestics.
1. Dirgee—tailor. 2. Khitmutgar writing the accounts of the previous
day. 3. Sepoy after parade. 4. Maitre, or house-cleaner. 5.
Dobee—washerman. 6. Chuprassee going out with gun before a
shooting-party. 7. Chuprassee—letter-carrier. 8. Bengalee Pundit, or
scholar.
]
It has been placed upon record, as an instructive commentary on the
immense distances to be traversed in India, the imperfection of most of
the roads, and the primitive detail of travelling arrangements—that when
Viscount Hardinge was engaged in the Punjaub campaign in 1846, one
hundred European officers were sent off from Calcutta to aid him.
Although the distance was nearly fifteen hundred miles, nothing more
rapid than palanquin travelling was available; and, as a consequence,
the journey became so tediously prolonged that only thirty out of the
hundred officers arrived at the Sutlej before the campaign was over.
Palanquin-bearers were posted at different stations to carry three
persons daily; and it was calculated that, assuming twelve bearers to be
posted at every station, and the stations eight miles apart on an
average, the duty must have required the services of _seven thousand_ of
these men—all to carry one hundred officers: a waste of muscular energy
singular to contemplate by the light of an Englishman’s home experience.
The Indian post is still more simple than the dâk. It is conducted by
runners, each of whom slings his mail-bag on the end of a stick over his
shoulder. He runs five miles in an hour, and then gives his bag to
another man, who runs five miles in an hour; and so on. Strictly
speaking, dâk is an appellation properly belonging to this
letter-carrying system. It is equivalent to the English _post_; and as
the English have adopted the custom of applying the term post to quick
travelling as well as to letter-carrying, in like manner have the
Anglo-Indians adopted a double application of the word dâk. It is only
the express or quick dâk which maintains a speed of five miles an hour;
the ordinary speed, when the letter-bag is heavy, is four miles. In
order that the runners may not be required to go far from their homes,
each man carries his bag one stage, exchanges bags with another runner
who has come in the opposite direction, and then returns. A letter may
thus be conveyed a hundred miles in a day—a distance which, considering
the nature of the system, is quite as great as can reasonably be
expected. Horse and camel dâks are occasionally employed; but they are
not easily available, except on good roads. Besides the letter-dâk,
there is a parcel-dâk or _bangey_, the runner carrying a packet or box,
in which small parcels or newspapers are placed.
It will become a duty, in a later portion of this work, to notice
somewhat fully the railway schemes of India, in relation to the plans
for developing the industrial resources of that great region; but at
present this would be out of place, since the Revolt has been dependent
on the actual, not the prospective. This actuality, so far as concerns
means and modes of travelling, is summed up in a few words. An Indian
officer, we have seen, must travel to his station by horse or by
palanquin if on land, by drag-boat or by steam-boat if on the rivers. In
any case his rate of progress is slow; his movements are encumbered by a
train of servants, by a whole bazarful of furniture and culinary
apparatus, and by an anxiously selected provision for his larder. To
move quickly is well-nigh impossible: all the conditions for it are
wanting. Improvements, it is true, are in progress: steamers of light
draught and rapid movement are being planned for the rivers; the great
trunk-road from Calcutta to the Afghan frontier is beginning to offer
facilities for wheel-carriage transport; and the railways are beginning
to shew their iron tracks in various regions; nevertheless, these are
rather indications of the future than appliances for the present; and
the Indian officers are not yet in a position to say much about them
from personal experience. The humbler soldiers, whether Europeans or
sepoys, are of course less favourably served than the officers. There is
no Weedon in India, connected by rail with a Chatham, a Portsmouth, a
Liverpool, a Leeds, along which a whole regiment can be conveyed in a
few hours; and as saddle-horses and palanquins are out of the question
for infantry privates, it becomes necessary to trudge on foot along such
roads as may be available, or to linger on the tardy river route. Once
now and then, it is true, a daring man, a Napier or an Edwardes, will
swiftly send a small body of troops over a sandy desert or a marshy
plain on camels, horses, elephants, or some exceptional modes of
conveyance; but the prevalent characteristics of travel are such as have
here been described, and such will doubtless be the case for many years
to come.
Such, then, being the territorial arrangements by which Anglo-Indian
troops are considered to belong to different presidencies and states;
and such the modes in which military as well as civilians must move from
place to place in those territories; we shall be prepared next to
understand something about the soldiers themselves—the Anglo-Indian
army.
In no country in Europe is there an army so anomalous in its
construction as that which, until lately, belonged to the East India
Company. Different kinds of troops, and troops from different provinces,
we can well understand. For instance, the French avail themselves of a
few Algerine Arabs, and a small foreign legion, as components in the
regular army. The English have a few colonial corps in addition to the
Queen’s army. The Prussians have a _landwehr_ or militia equal in
magnitude to the regular army itself. The Russians have military
colonists as well as military tributaries, in addition to the great
_corps d’armée_. The Austrians have their peculiar Military Frontier
regiments, besides the regular troops furnished by the dozen or score of
distinct provinces and kingdoms which form their empire. The German
States provide their several contingents to form (if the States can ever
bring themselves to a unity of opinion) an Army of the Confederation.
The Neapolitans employ Swiss mercenaries as a portion of their army. The
Romans, the subjects of the pope as a temporal prince, have the
‘protection’ of French and Austrian bayonets, in addition to a small
native force. The Turks have their regular army, aided (or sometimes
obstructed) by the contingents of vassal-pachas and the irregulars from
mountain districts. But none of these resemble the East India Company’s
army. Under an ordinary state of affairs, and without reference to the
mutiny of 1857, the Indian army is in theory a strange conglomerate. The
Queen _lends_ some of her English troops, for which the Company pay; the
Company enlist other English troops on their own account; they maintain
three complete armies among the natives of India who are their subjects;
they raise irregular corps or regiments in the states not so fully
belonging to them; they claim the services of the troops belonging to
certain tributary princes, whenever exigency arises; and the whole of
these troops are placed under the generalship of a commander-in-chief,
who is appointed—not by the Company, who have to pay for all—but by the
Queen or the British government.
The Company’s army rose by degrees, as the territorial possessions
increased. At first the troops were little better than adventurers who
sold their swords to the highest bidders, and fought for pay and rations
without regard to the justice of the cause in which they were engaged;
many were liberated convicts, many were deserters from various European
armies, some were Africans, while a few were Topasses, a mixed race of
Indo-Portuguese. The first regular English troops seen in Bengal were an
ensign and thirty privates, sent from Madras to quell a petty
disturbance at the Company’s factory in the Hoogly. Gradually, as the
numbers increased and the organisation improved, the weapons underwent
changes. The troops originally were armed with muskets, swords, and
pikes twelve or fourteen feet long: the pikemen in the centre of the
battalion or company, and the musketeers on the flank. In the beginning
of the last century the pikes were abandoned, and the soldiers armed
with bayonets in addition to the muskets and swords. When the custom was
adopted, from European example, of forming the companies into a regular
battalion, the swords were abolished, and the common soldiers left only
with muskets and bayonets. Various changes were made during the century,
assimilating the troops more and more to those of the English crown, in
weapons and accoutrements.
The regiments became, by successive ameliorations, composed almost
wholly of native Hindoos and Mohammedans, officered to some extent by
Europeans. An English sergeant was given to each company, and a
drill-sergeant and sergeant-major to each battalion. Afterwards, when
the battalions were formed into regiments, natives were appointed as
sergeants of companies; and then the only European non-commissioned
officers were a sergeant-major and a quartermaster-sergeant. By the time
of Lord Clive’s achievements, just about a century ago, three armies
were owned by the Company—one in Bengal or the Calcutta presidency, one
in the Coromandel or Madras presidency, and one on the Malabar coast,
south of the present station of Bombay. These three armies were totally
separate and distinct, each under its own commander, and each presenting
some peculiarities of organisation; but they occasionally joined as one
army for large military operations. There were many native corps, and a
few European corps; but all alike were officered by Europeans. The
cadet, the young man sent out from England to ‘make his fortune’ in
India, was appointed to a native corps or a European corps at the choice
of the commander. The pay being good and regular, and the customs and
prejudices respected, the sepoys, sipahis, or native soldiers became in
most cases faithful servants to the Company, obeying their native
officers, who, in their turn, were accountable to the European officers.
The European and the native corps were alike formed by enlistment: the
Company compelling no one to serve but those who deemed the pay and
other arrangements sufficient. An endeavour was made at that time
(afterwards abandoned) to equalise the Hindoos and Mohammedans in
numbers as nearly as possible.
From an early period in the Company’s history, a certain number of
regiments from the British royal army were lent for Indian service; the
number being specified by charter or statute; and the whole expense, of
every kind, being defrayed by the Company—including, by a more modern
arrangement, retiring pay and pensions. There were thus, in effect, at
all times two English armies in India; the one enlisted by the Company,
the other lent by the Crown; and it was a matter of some difficulty to
obviate jealousies and piques between the two corps. For, on the one
hand, the officers of the Company’s troops had better pay and more
profitable stations assigned to them; while, on the other hand, the
royal officers had precedence and greater honour. A Company’s captain,
however so many years he might have served, was subordinate even to the
youngest royal captain, who assumed command over him by right. At
length, in 1796, the commissions received by the Company’s officers were
recognised by the crown; and the two corps became placed on a level in
pay and privileges.
The year just named witnessed a new organisation also of the native
army. A regiment was ordered to be of two thousand men, in two corps or
battalions of one thousand each; and each battalion was divided into ten
companies, with two native officers to each company. Thus there were
forty native officers in each of these large regiments. Besides these,
there were half as many European officers as were allowed to a European
regiment of the same magnitude. There had before been a native
commandant to each battalion; but he was now superseded by a European
field-officer, somewhat to the dissatisfaction of the men. The service
occasionally suffered from this change; for a regiment was transferred
at once from a native who had risen to command by experience and good
conduct, to a person sent out from England who had to learn his duties
as a leader of native troops after he went out. The youngest English
ensign, perhaps a beardless boy, received promotion before any native,
however old and tried in the service. And hence arose the custom,
observed down to recent times, of paying no attention to the merits of
the natives as a spur to promotion, allowing seniority to determine the
rise from one grade to another.
While on the one hand the natives volunteered as soldiers in the
Company’s service, and were eligible to rise to a certain rank as
regimental officers; the English officers, on the other, had their own
particular routine and hopes of preferment. The cadets or youths went
out partially educated by the Company in England, especially those
intended for the artillery and engineer departments; and when settled
with their regiments in India as officers, all rose by seniority; the
engineers and artillery in their own corps, the cavalry and infantry in
their own regiments. It often happened, however, that when few deaths
occurred by war, officers reached middle life without much advancement,
and retired after twenty years or more of service with the pay of the
rank they then held. In 1836, however, a law was made to insure that the
retiring allowance should not be below a certain minimum: if an officer
served twenty-three years, he retired with captain’s pay; if
twenty-seven years, with major’s pay; if thirty-one years, with
lieutenant-colonel’s pay; if thirty-five years, with colonel’s
pay—whatever might have been his actual rank at the date of his
retirement. There was also permission for them to sell their
commissions, although those commissions were not bought by them in the
first instance.
Unquestionably the sepoy was well paid, considering the small value of
labour and personal services in his country; and thus it arose that the
Company had seldom any difficulty in obtaining troops. The sepoys were
volunteers in the full sense of the word. Their pay, though small in our
estimation, was high in proportion to the station they formerly held.
The Bengal Infantry sepoy received seven rupees (fourteen shillings) per
month, with an additional rupee after sixteen years’ service, and two
after twenty years. A havildar or sergeant received fourteen rupees; a
jemadar or lieutenant twenty-four rupees; and a subadar or captain
sixty-seven rupees. This pay was relatively so good, that each man was
usually able to send two-thirds of it to his relations. And he was not a
stranger to them at the end of his term, like a Russian soldier; for it
was a part of the system to allow him periodical furlough or leave of
absence, to visit his friends. If unfit for military service after
fifteen months’ duty, he retired on a life-pension sufficient to support
him in his own simple way of life. Whether he _ought_, in moral
fairness, to be grateful towards the rulers who fed and clothed him, is
just one of those questions on which Indian officers have differed and
still differ. Viewed by the aid of the experience furnished by recent
events, many of the former encomiums on the sepoys, as men grateful for
blessings conferred, read strangely. The Marquis of Dalhousie’s
statement, that ‘The position of the native soldier in India has long
been such as to leave hardly any circumstance of his condition in need
of improvement,’ has already been adverted to. To this we may add the
words of Captain Rafter: ‘We assert, on personal knowledge and reliable
testimony, that the attachment of the sepoy to his English officer, and
through him to the English government, is of an enduring as well as an
endearing nature, that will long bid defiance to the machinations of
every enemy to British supremacy, either foreign or domestic.’[4] In
another authority we find that the sepoy, when his term of military
service has expired, ‘goes back to live in ease and dignity, to teach
his children to love and venerate that mighty abstraction the Company,
and to extend the influence of England still further throughout the
ramifications of native society. Under such a system, although temporary
insubordination may and sometimes does occur in particular regiments, it
is invariably caused by temporary grievances. General disaffection
cannot exist—desertion is unknown.’ But the validity or groundlessness
of such opinions we do not touch upon here: they must be reserved to a
later chapter, when the _causes_ of the mutiny will come under review.
We pass on at once, therefore, from this brief notice of the origin of
the Company’s army, to its actual condition at and shortly before the
period of the outbreak.
Should it be asked what, during recent years, has been the number of
troops in India, the answer must depend upon the scope given to the
question. If we mention Queen’s troops only, the number has been usually
about 24,000; if Queen’s troops and the Company’s European troops, about
42,000; if the Company’s native regulars be added to these, the number
rises to 220,000; if the Company’s irregular corps of horse be included,
there are 280,000; if it include the contingents supplied by native
princes, the number amounts to 320,000; and lastly, if to these be added
the armies of the independent and semi-independent princes, more or less
available by treaty to the Company, the total swells to 700,000 men.
As exhibiting in detail the component elements of the Company’s
Anglo-Indian army at a definite period, the following enumeration by
Captain Rafter may be adopted, as applicable to the early part of 1855.
Certain minor changes were made in the two years from that date to the
commencement of the outbreak; but these will be noticed in later pages
when necessary, and do not affect the general accuracy of the list. The
three presidencies are kept separate, and the three kinds of
troops—regiments of the royal army, the Company’s native regular
regiments, and native irregular regiments—are also kept separate.
First we take the Bengal presidency in all its completeness, stretching
almost entirely across Northern India from the Burmese frontier on the
east, to the Afghan frontier on the west:
BENGAL PRESIDENCY.
_Queen’s Troops._
Two regiments of light cavalry.
Fifteen regiments of infantry.
One battalion of 60th Rifles.
_Company’s Regular Troops._
Three brigades of horse-artillery, European and native.
Six battalions of European foot-artillery.
Three battalions of native foot-artillery.
Corps of Royal Engineers.
Ten regiments of native light cavalry.
Two regiments of European fusiliers.
Seventy-four regiments of native infantry.
One regiment of Sappers and Miners.
_Irregular and Contingent Troops._
Twenty-three regiments of irregular native cavalry.
Twelve regiments of irregular native infantry.
One corps of Guides.
One regiment of camel corps.
Sixteen regiments of local militia.
Shekhawuttie brigade.
Contingents of Gwalior, Jhodpore, Malwah, Bhopal, and Kotah.
The European troops here mentioned, in the Company’s regular army, are
those who have been enlisted in England or elsewhere by the Company’s
agents, quite irrespective of the royal or Queen’s army. The above
forces, altogether, amounted to somewhat over 150,000 men. Let us now
glance at another presidency:
MADRAS PRESIDENCY.
_Queen’s Troops._
One regiment of light cavalry.
Five regiments of infantry.
_Company’s Regular Troops._
One brigade of horse-artillery, European and native.
Four battalions of European foot-artillery.
One battalion of native foot-artillery.
Corps of Royal Engineers.
Eight regiments of native light cavalry.
Two regiments of European infantry.
Fifty-two regiments of native infantry.
No irregular or contingent troops appear in this entry.
BOMBAY PRESIDENCY.
_Queen’s Troops._
One regiment of light cavalry.
Five regiments of infantry.
_Company’s Regular Troops._
One brigade of horse-artillery, European and native.
Two battalions of European foot-artillery.
Two battalions of native foot-artillery.
Corps of Royal Engineers.
Three regiments of native light cavalry.
Two regiments of European infantry.
Twenty-nine regiments of native infantry.
_Irregular and Contingent Troops._
Fifteen regiments of irregular native troops.
The European and the native troops of the Company are not here
separated, although in effect they form distinct regiments. So costly
are all the operations connected with the Anglo-Indian army, that it
has been calculated that every English soldier employed in the East,
whether belonging to the Queen’s or to the Company’s forces, costs, on
an average, one hundred pounds before he becomes available for
service, including his outfit, his voyage, his marching and barracking
in India. This of course relates to the privates; an officer’s cost is
based upon wholly distinct grounds, and can with difficulty be
estimated. The greatly increased expenditure of the Company on
military matters has partly depended on the fact that the European
element in the armies has been regularly augmenting: in 1837 there
were 28,000 European troops in India; in 1850 the number was 44,000,
comprising 28,000 Queen’s troops, and 16,000 belonging to the Company;
while the new charter of 1854 allowed the Company to raise 24,000, of
whom 4000 were to be in training in England, and the rest on service
in India. What was the number in 1857, becomes part of the history of
the mutiny. In the whole Indian army, a year or two before this
catastrophe, there were about 5000 European officers, governing the
native as well as the European regiments; but of this number, so many
were absent on furlough or leave, so many more on staff appointments,
and so many of the remainder in local corps and on civil duties, that
there was an insufficiency of regimental control—leading, as some
authorities think, in great part to the scenes of insubordination; for
the native officers, as we shall presently see, were regarded in a
very subordinate light. There was a commander-in-chief for each of the
three presidencies, controlling the three armies respectively; while
one of the three, the commander-in-chief of the Bengal army, held at
the same time the office of commander-in-chief of the whole of the
armies of India, in order that there might be a unity of plan and
purpose in any large combined operations. Thus, when Sir Colin
Campbell went out to India in the summer of 1857, his power was to be
exerted over the armies of the whole of India generally, as well as
over that of Bengal in particular.
Continuing to speak of the Indian army as it was before the year 1857,
and thereby keeping clear of the changes effected or commenced in that
year, we proceed to mention a few more circumstances connected with the
Company’s European element in that army. The formation of an Indian
officer commenced in England. As a youth, from fourteen to eighteen
years of age, he was admitted to the Company’s school at Addiscombe,
after an ordeal of recommendations and testimonials, and after an
examination of his proficiency in an ordinary English education, in
which a modicum of Latin was also expected. A probation of six months
was gone through, to shew whether he possessed the requisite abilities
and inclination; and if this probation were satisfactory, his studies
were continued for two years. His friends paid the larger portion of the
cost of his maintenance and education at the school. If his abilities
and progress were of a high class, he was set apart for an appointment
in the engineers; if next in degree, in the artillery; and if the lowest
in degree, for the infantry. At the end of his term the pupil must have
attained to a certain amount of knowledge, of which, however, very
little was professional. Supposing all to be satisfactory, he became a
military _cadet_ in the service of the Company, to be available for
Indian service as occasion arose. Having joined one of the regiments as
the lowest commissioned officer, his subsequent advancement depended in
part on his qualifications and in part on seniority. He could not, by
the more recent regulations of the Company, become a captain until he
had acquired, besides his professional efficiency, a knowledge of the
spoken and written Hindustani language, and of the Persian written
character, much used in India. When placed on the general staff, his
services might be required in any one of a number of ways quite unknown
in the Queen’s service in England: he might have a civil duty, or be
placed at the head of the police in a tract of country recently
evacuated by the military, or be made an adjutant, auditor,
quartermaster, surveyor, paymaster, judge-advocate, commissary-general,
brigade-major, aid-de-camp, barrack-master, or clothing agent. Many of
these offices being lucrative, the military liked them; but such a
bestowal created some jealousy among the civil servants of the Company,
whose prizes in the Indian lottery were thereby diminished; and, what
was worse, it shook the connection between an officer and his regiment,
rendering him neither able nor willing to throw his sympathies into his
work. No officer could hold any of these staff appointments, as they
were called, until he had been two years in the army.
The officers noticed in the last paragraph were appointed to the command
both of European and of native regiments. As to privates and
non-commissioned officers in the European regiments, they were much the
same class of men, and enlisted much in the same way, as those in the
Queen’s army. The privates or sepoys of the native regiments were of
course different, not only from Europeans, but different among
themselves. Four-fifths of the Bengal native infantry were Hindoos,
mainly of the Brahmin and Rajpoot castes; and the remainder Mohammedans.
On the other hand, three-fourths of the Bengal native cavalry were
Mohammedans, the Hindoos being generally not equal to them as troopers.
In the Madras native army, the Mohammedans predominated in the cavalry,
while the infantry comprised the two religions in nearly equal
proportions. In Bombay, nearer the nations of Western Asia, the troops
comprised volunteers of many countries and many religions—more easily
managed, our officers found, on that account.
Without at present going into the question how far the religious
feelings and caste prejudices of the natives induced a revolt, it may be
useful to shew how a regiment was constituted, of what materials, and in
what gradations. An infantry regiment in the Bengal presidency will
serve as a type.
The organisation of a Bengal native regiment, before the mutiny, was
nearly as follows: An infantry regiment consisted of about 1000
privates, 120 non-commissioned officers, and 20 native commissioned
officers. It was divided into ten companies, each containing one-tenth
of the above numbers. When stationary, the regiment seldom had barracks,
but was quartered in ten lines of thatched huts, one row for each
company. In front of each row was a small circular building for
containing the arms and accoutrements of that particular company, under
the charge of a _havildar_ or native sergeant. All these natives rose by
a strict rule of seniority: the sepoy or private soldier becoming a
_naik_ or corporal, the naik being promoted to be _havildar_ or
sergeant, the havildar in time assuming the rank of _jemadar_ or
lieutenant, and the jemadar becoming a _subadar_ or captain. All these
promotions were necessarily slow; for the English colonel of the
regiment had very little power to promote a worthy native officer or
non-commissioned officer to a higher rank. The jemadar often became a
gray-headed man of sixty before he rose to the rank of subadar, the
highest attainable by a native. As a rule, there were four or five
Hindoos to one Mohammedan in a Bengal infantry regiment; and of these
eight hundred Hindoos, it was not unfrequent to find four hundred
Brahmins or hereditary priests, and two hundred Rajpoots, a military
caste only a little lower in rank than the former; while the remaining
two hundred were low-caste Hindoos. The European officers, as will be
explained more fully further on, lived in bungalows or detached houses
near the lines of their regiment; but as the weather is too hot to admit
of much open-air duty in the daytime, these officers saw less of their
men than is customary in European armies, or than is necessary for the
due preservation of discipline. The head of a regiment was the
commander, generally a lieutenant-colonel; below him was an adjutant,
who attended to the drill and the daily reports; below him was a
quartermaster and interpreter, whose double duties were to look after
the clothes and huts of the men, and to interpret or translate orders.
Besides these three, there were ten subordinate officers for the ten
companies, each expected to make a morning scrutiny into the condition
and conduct of his men. The Europeans in a native regiment were thus
fourteen or fifteen. It is true that the _theory_ of a regiment involved
a complement of about five-and-twenty European officers; but the causes
of absenteeism, lately adverted to, generally brought down the effective
number to about twelve or fifteen. The arrangements of the infantry in
the other presidencies, and of the native cavalry all over India, each
had their peculiarities.
Leaving for future chapters a further elucidation of the relations
between the European officers and the native troops—so important in
connection with the Revolt—and a description of the sepoys in their
dresses, usages, and personal characteristics—we shall now proceed to
view the native army under two different aspects—first, when barracked
and cantoned in time of peace; and, secondly, when on the march towards
a scene of war.
And first, for the army when stationary. At Calcutta, Bombay, and
Madras, there are solidly built barracks for the whole of the soldiery,
men as well as officers; but in almost all other parts of India the
arrangements are of a slighter and less permanent character. At the
cantonments, it is true, the officers have houses; but the sepoys are
lodged in huts of their own construction. Around the cantonments at the
stations, and generally skirting the parade-grounds, are the houses or
bungalows of the officers. Within the lines of the cantonment, too, the
officers’ mess-rooms are situated; and at the larger stations may be
seen ball-rooms, theatres, and racket-courts; while outside is a
race-stand for witnessing the sports which Englishmen love in India as
well as at home.
[Illustration:
Group of Sepoys.
1. Subadar—major. 2. Jemadar—Lieutenant. 3. Subadar—Captain. 4.
Naik—Corporal. 5. Havildar—Sergeant. 6. Sepoy—Private.
]
The Indian bungalows, the houses inhabited by European officers at the
different towns and stations in India, have a certain general
resemblance, although differing of course much in details. A bungalow of
good size has usually a central room called the hall, a smaller room
opening on the front verandah, a similar one opening on the back
verandah, three narrower rooms on each side of these three, and
bathing-rooms at the four corners. A verandah runs entirely round the
exterior. The central hall has only the borrowed light derived from
eight or a dozen doors leading out of the surrounding apartments: these
doors are always open; but the doorways are covered, when privacy is
desired, with the _chick_, a sort of gauze-work of green-painted strips
of fine bamboo, admitting air and light, but keeping out flies and
mosquitoes. The floors are usually of _chunam_, finely tempered clay,
covered with matting, and then with a sort of blue-striped carpet or
with printed calico. The exterior is usually barn-like and ugly, with
its huge roof, tiled or thatched, sloping down to the pillars of the
verandah. Air and shade are the two desiderata in every bungalow, and
adornment is wisely sacrificed to these. The finest part of the whole is
the surrounding space or garden, called the _compound_, from a
Portuguese word. The larger the space allowed for this compound, the
more pleasant is the residence in its centre, and the more agreeable to
the eye is a cantonment of such bungalows. The trees and fruits in these
enclosures are delicious to the sight, and most welcome to the
heat-wearied occupants of the dwellings. Officers in the Company’s
service, whether military or civil, live much under canvas during the
hot seasons, at some of the stations; and the tents they use are much
larger and more like regular habitations than those known in Europe. The
tents are double, having a space of half a yard or so between the two
canvas walls, to temper the heat of the sun. The double-poled tents are
large enough to contain several apartments, and are furnished with
glass-doors to fit into the openings. A wall of canvas separates the
outer offices and bathing-rooms. Gay chintz for wall-linings, and
printed cotton carpets, give a degree of smartness to the interior.
Movable stoves, or else fire-dishes for wood-fuel called _chillumchees_,
are provided as a resource against the chill that often pervades the air
in the evening of a hot day. The tents for the common soldiers hold ten
men each with great ease, and have a double canvas wall like the others.
[Illustration:
Bungalow.
]
An important part of every cantonment is the bazaar, situated in
convenient proximity to the huts or tents of the troops. It comprises an
enormous number of sutlers, who sell to the soldiers those commodities
which cannot well be dispensed with, but which cannot conveniently be
provided and carried about by them. Curry stuffs, tobacco, rice, arrack
(in addition to the Company’s allowance), cotton cloth, and a
multiplicity of other articles, are sold at these bazaars; and the
market-people who supply these things, with their families, the coolies
or porters, and their hackeries or carts—add enormously to the mass that
constitutes an Indian cantonment. The sepoy has little to spend with his
sixpence a day; but then his wants are few; and his copper _pice_,
somewhat larger than the English farthing, will buy an amount of
necessaries little dreamed of in England. The Hindoos have such peculiar
notions connected with food and cooking, that the government leave them
as much to themselves as possible in those matters; and the bazaar and
sutlers’ arrangements assume a particular importance from this
circumstance.
An Anglo-Indian army we have seen at rest, in cantonments. Now let us
trace it when on a march to a scene of war; but while describing this in
the _present_ tense, we must make allowance for the changes which the
Revolt has inevitably produced.
The non-fighting men who accompany the troops greatly exceed in number
the troops themselves. Captain Munro says: ‘It would be absurd for a
captain to think of taking the field without being attended by the
following enormous retinue—namely, a _dubash_ (agent or commissionaire),
a cook, and a _maty_ boy (servant-of-all-work); if he cannot get
bullocks, he must assemble fifteen or twenty _coolies_ to carry his
baggage, together with a horse-keeper and grass-cutter, and sometimes a
dulcinea and her train, having occasionally the assistance of a barber,
a washer, and an ironer, in common with the other officers of his
regiment. His tent is furnished with a good large bed, mattress,
pillows, &c., a few camp stools or chairs, a folding table, a pair of
glass shades for his candles, six or seven trunks, with table equipage,
his stock of linens (at least twenty-four suits), some dozens of wine,
porter, brandy, and gin; with tea, sugar, and biscuit, a hamper of live
poultry, and his milch-goat. A private’s tent for holding his servants
and the overplus of his baggage is also requisite; but this is not at
the Company’s expense.’ Of course it must be inferred that all this
luxury belongs to the best of times only, and is not available in the
exigency of sudden military movements. The sepoys or common soldiers,
too, have their satellites. Each man is accompanied by his whole family,
who live upon his pay and allowances of rice from the Company. Every
trooper or horse-soldier, too, has his grass-cutter; for it is a day’s
work for one person to dig, cut, and prepare a day’s grass for one
horse.
When on the march, the tents are generally struck soon after midnight.
At the first tap of the drum, the servants knock up the tent-pins, and
down fall the tents; horses begin to neigh and the camels to cry, the
elephants and camels receive their loads of camp-equipage, the bullocks
are laden with the officers’ tents and boxes, the coolies take up their
burdens, and all prepare for the road. During the noise and bustle of
these preliminaries, the officers and men make their few personal
arrangements, aided by their servants or families; while the officers’
cooks and agents are sent on in advance, to prepare breakfast at the
next halting-place. Between one and two o’clock the regiments start off,
in columns of sections: the camp-followers, baggage, bullocks,
elephants, and camels, bringing up the rear. The European soldiers do
not carry their own knapsacks on the march; they have the luxury of
cook-boys or attendants, who render this service for them. The natives,
it is found, are able to carry heavier loads than the Europeans; or—what
is perhaps more nearly the case—they bear the burdens more patiently, as
the Europeans love soldiering better than portering. The tedium of the
journey is sometimes relieved by a hunt after antelopes, hares,
partridges, wild ducks, or wild boars, which the officers may happen to
espy, according to the nature of the country through which they are
passing. Arrived at the halting-place, everything is quickly prepared
for a rest and a breakfast; the quarter-masters push forward to occupy
the ground; the elephants and camels are disburdened of the tents; the
natives and the cattle plunge into some neighbouring pool or tank to
refresh themselves; the cooks have been already some time at work; and
the officers sit down to a breakfast of tea, coffee, curry, rice,
pillau, ham, and other obtainable dishes. The fakeers often recognise
their friends or admirers among the natives of the cavalcade, and give
loud blessings, and tom-tom drummings, in exchange for donations of the
smallest Indian coins. The quarter-masters’ arrangements are so quickly
and so neatly made, that in a short time the general’s _durbar_ appears
in the centre of a street of tents for staff-officers, dining-tents on
the one side and sleeping-tents on the other; while the bazaar-dealers
open their temporary shops in the rear. The horses are picketed in long
lines; while the elephants and camels browse or rest at leisure. Under
ordinary circumstances, the day’s marching is over by nine o’clock in
the morning, at which hour the sun’s heat becomes too fierce to be
willingly borne. Repose, amusements, and light camp-duties fill up the
remainder of the day, to be followed by a like routine on the morrow.
[Illustration:
Troops on the March.
]
While one of these extraordinary marches is in progress, ‘when the
moving masses are touched here and there by the reddening light of the
dawn, it seems to be a true migration, with flocks and herds, cattle
loaded with baggage, men, women, and children, all in a chaos of
disorder but the troops whose wants and wishes have attracted this
assemblage. At length the country appears to awake from its sleep, and
with the yell of the jackal, or the distant baying of the village dogs,
are heard to mingle the voices of human beings. Ruddier grows the dawn,
warmer the breeze, and the light-hearted sepoy, no longer shivering with
cold, gives vent to the joyous feelings of morning in songs and
laughter. The scenes become more striking, and the long array of tall
camels, led by natives in picturesque costume, with here and there a
taller elephant mingling with droves of loaded bullocks, give it a new
and extraordinary character to a European imagination. The line of
swarthy sepoys of Upper India, with their moustached lips and tall
handsome figures, contrasts favourably with the shorter and plainer
soldiers of Britain; the grave mechanical movements of the regular
cavalry in their light-blue uniforms are relieved by the erratic
evolutions and gay and glittering dresses of the irregulars, who with
loud cries and quivering spears, and their long black locks streaming
behind them, spur backwards and forwards like the wind from mere
exuberance of spirits.... The camp-followers in the meantime present
every possible variety of costume; and among them, and not the least
interesting figures in the various groups, may frequently be seen the
pet lambs of which the sepoys are so fond, dressed in necklaces of
ribbons and white shells, and the tip of their tails, ears, and feet
dyed orange colour. The womenkind of the troops of the Peninsula
(Southern India) usually follow the drum; but the Bengalees have left
their families at home; and the Europeans bidden adieu to their
temporary wives with the air the band strikes up on quitting the
station, “The girl I left behind me.’”[5]
Such, before the great Revolt, were the usual characteristics of an
Anglo-Indian army when on the march; and, considering the _impedimenta_,
it is not surprising that the daily progress seldom exceeded ten or
twelve miles. The system was very costly, even at the cheap rate of
Indian service; for the camp-followers, one with another, were ten times
as numerous as the troops; and all, in one way or other, lived upon or
by the Company.
Note.
A parliamentary paper, issued in 1857 on the motion of Colonel
Sykes, affords valuable information on some of the matters treated
in this chapter. It is ‘A Return of the Area and Population of each
Division of each Presidency of India, from the Latest Inquiries;
comprising, also, the Area and Estimated Population of Native
States.’ It separates the British states from the native; and it
further separates the former into five groups, according to the
government under which each is placed. These five, as indicated in
the present chapter, are under the administration of ‘the
governor-general of India in council’—the ‘lieutenant-governor of
Bengal’—the ‘lieutenant-governor of the Northwest Provinces’—the
‘government of Madras’—and the ‘government of Bombay.’ In each case
the ‘regulation districts’ are treated distinct from the
non-regulation provinces,’ the former having been longer under
British power, and brought into a more regular system than the
latter. Without going again over the long list of names of places,
it will suffice to quote those belonging to the group placed
immediately under the governor-general’s control. This group
comprises the Punjaub, in the six divisions of Lahore, Jelum,
Moultan, Leia, Peshawur, and Jullundur; the Cis-Sutlej states, four
in number; the lately annexed kingdom of Oude; the central district
of Nagpoor or Berar; the recently acquired region of Pegu; the strip
of country on the east of the Bay of Bengal, known as the Tenasserim
Provinces; and the ‘Eastern Straits Settlements’ of Singapore,
Penang, and Malacca. The whole of British India is divided into
nearly a hundred and eighty districts, each, on an average, about
the size of Inverness-shire, the largest county, except Yorkshire,
in the United Kingdom. The population, however, is eight times us
dense, per average square mile, as in this Scottish shire. Keeping
clear of details concerning divisions and districts, the following
are the areas and population in the five great governments:
AREA. POPULATION.
Square Miles.
Governor-general’s } 246,050 23,255,972
Provinces. }
Lower Bengal } Regulation, 126,133 37,262,163
Provinces. } Non-regulation, 95,836 3,590,234
Northwest } Regulation, 72,052 30,271,885
Provinces. } Non-regulation, 33,707 3,383,308
Madras } Regulation, 119,526 20,120,495
Presidency. } Non-regulation, 12,564 2,316,802
Bombay } Regulation, 57,723 9,015,534
Presidency. } Non-regulation, 73,821 2,774,508
——————— ———————————
Total, 837,412 131,990,901
In some of the five governments, the population is classified more
minutely than in others. Thus, in the Punjaub member of the
governor-general’s group, Hindoos are separated from non-Hindoos;
then, each of these classes is divided into agricultural and
non-agricultural; and, lastly, each of these is further separated
into male and female. The most instructive feature here is the
scarcity of females compared with males, contrary to the experience
of Europe; in the Punjaub and Sirhind, among thirteen million souls,
there are a million and a half more males than females—shewing,
among other things, one of the effects of female infanticide in past
years. The ratio appears to be about the same in the Northwest
Provinces, around Delhi, Meerut, Rohilcund, Agra, Benares, and
Allahabad. Not one place is named, throughout India, in which the
females equal the males in number. In the Bombay presidency, besides
the difference of sex, the population is tabulated into nine
groups—Hindoos, Wild Tribes, Low Castes, Shrawniks or Jains,
Lingayets, Mussulmans, Parsees, Jews, Christians. Of the last named
there are less than fifty thousand, including military, in a
population of twelve millions.
The area and population of the native states are given in connection
with the presidencies to which those states are geographically and
politically related, and present the following numbers:
AREA. POPULATION.
Square Miles.
In Bengal Presidency, 515,583 38,702,206
In Madras Presidency, 61,802 5,213,071
In Bombay Presidency, 60,575 4,460,370
——————— ——————————
627,910 48,376,247
The enumeration of these native states is minute and intricate; and
it may suffice to shew the complexity arising out of the existence
of so many baby-princedoms, that one of the native states of
Bundelcund, Kampta by name, figures in the table as occupying an
area of _one_ square mile, and as having _three hundred_
inhabitants!
Including the British states, the native states, the few settlements
held by the French and Portuguese, and the recent acquisitions on
the eastern side of the Bay of Bengal, the grand totals come out in
the following numbers:
1,466,576 Square miles,
180,884,297 Inhabitants,
or 124 dwellers per square mile. Of these inhabitants, it is
believed—though the returns are not complete in this particular—that
there are fifteen Hindoos to one Mohammedan: if so, then India must
contain more than a _hundred and sixty million_ worshippers of
Hindoo deities—even after allowance is made for Buddhists, Parsees,
and a few savage tribes almost without religion.
-----
Footnote 3:
A young native princess was sent to England from this district to be
educated as a _Christian_ lady; and Queen Victoria became a sponsor
for her at a baptismal ceremony.
Footnote 4:
_Our Anglo-Indian Army._
Footnote 5:
Leitch Ritchie. _British World in the East._
CHAPTER II.
SYMPTOMS:—CHUPATTIES AND CARTRIDGES.
Little did the British authorities in India suspect, in the early weeks
of 1857, that a mighty CENTENARY was about to be observed—a movement
intended to mark the completion of one hundred years of British rule in
the East; and to mark it, not by festivities and congratulations, but by
rebellion and slaughter.
The officers in India remembered and noted the date well; but they did
not know how well the Mohammedans and Hindoos, the former especially,
had stored it up in their traditions. The name of Robert Clive, the
‘Daring in War,’ was so intimately associated with the date 1757, that
the year 1857 naturally brought it into thought, as a time when
Christian rule began to overawe Moslem rule in that vast country. True,
the East India Company had been connected with India during a period
exceeding two hundred years; but it was only at the commencement of the
second half of the last century that this connection became politically
important. It was remembered that—1756 having been marked by the
atrocities of the Black Hole at Calcutta, and by the utter extinction
for a time of the East India Company’s power in Bengal—the year 1757
became a year of retribution. It was remembered, as a matter of history
among the British, and of tradition among the natives, how wonderful a
part the young officer Clive performed in that exciting drama. It was
remembered that he arrived at Calcutta, at that time wholly denuded of
Englishmen, on the 2d of January in the last-named year, bringing with
him a small body of troops from Madras; that on the 4th of February,
with two thousand men, he defeated an army ten times as large, belonging
to Suraj-u-Dowlah, Nawab of Bengal—the same who had caused the
atrocities at the Black Hole, when a hundred and thirty persons died
from suffocation in a room only fitted to contain a fourth of the
number. It was further remembered how that, on the 9th of February,
Clive obtained great concessions from the nawab by treaty; that Suraj
broke the treaty, and commenced a course of treachery, in which Clive
was not slow to imitate him; that on the 13th of June, Clive, having
matured a plan equally bold and crafty, declared renewed hostilities
against the nawab; that on the 23d he gained the brilliant battle of
PLASSEY, conquering sixty thousand men with a force of only three
thousand; that within a week, Suraj-u-Dowlah, a miserable fugitive,
ended his existence; and that from that day British power had ever been
supreme in Bengal. This was a series of achievements not likely to be
forgotten by Englishmen. Ere yet the news of mutiny and murder reached
Europe, steps had been taken to render homage to Clive on the hundredth
anniversary of the battle of Plassey; the East India Company had
subscribed largely towards a statue of the hero; and a meeting in London
had decided that the chief town in Clive’s native county of Shropshire
should be selected as the spot wherein the statue should be set up.
Judging from the experience afforded by recent events, it is now clear
that the Mohammedans in India had thought much of these things, and
that the year 1857 had been marked out by them as a centenary to be
observed in a special way—by no less an achievement, indeed, than the
expulsion of the British, and the revival of Moslem power. In the
spring of the year it was ascertained that a paper was in circulation
among the natives, purporting to be a prophecy made by a Punjaub
fakeer seven hundred years ago—to the effect that, after various
dynasties of Mohammedans had ruled for some centuries, the _Nazarenes_
or Christians should hold power in India for one hundred years; that
the Christians would then be expelled; and that various events
foretold in the Koran would then come to pass, connected with the
triumph of Islamism. That this mysterious prediction was widely
credited, is probable—notwithstanding that the paper itself, if really
circulated, must manifestly have been an imposture of recent date; for
the English nation was not known even by name to the natives of India
seven hundred years ago. Setting aside, at present, all inquiries
concerning the first authors of the plot, the degree to which the
Company’s annexations had provoked it, the existence of any grievances
justifiably to be resisted, the reasons which induced Hindoos to join
the Mohammedans against the British, or the extent to which the
general population shared the views of the native military—laying
aside these inquiries for the present, there is evidence that a great
movement was planned for the middle of the year 1857. Of this plan the
British government knew nothing, and suspected little.
But although no vast plot was suspected, several trifling symptoms had
given cause for uneasiness and the English public learned, when too
late, that many Indian officers had long predicted the imminency of some
outbreak. Insubordination and mutiny, it was found, are not faults of
recent growth among the native troops of India. Now that the startling
events of 1857 are vividly presented to the public mind, men begin to
read again the old story of the outbreak at Vellore, and seek to draw
instruction therefrom. A little more than half a century ago—namely, on
the 10th of July 1806—the European barracks at Vellore were thrown into
a state of great excitement. This town is in the Carnatic, a few miles
west of Madras, and in the presidency of the same name. At two o’clock
in the morning, the barracks, containing four companies of the 69th
regiment, were surrounded by two battalions of sepoys in the Company’s
service, who poured in a heavy fire of musketry, at every door and
window, upon the soldiers. At the same time the European sentries, the
soldiers at the mainguard, and the sick in the hospital, were put to
death. The officers’ houses were ransacked, and everybody found in them
murdered. Upon the arrival of the 19th Light Dragoons, under Colonel
Gillespie, the sepoys were immediately attacked; six hundred were cut
down upon the spot, and two hundred taken from their hiding-places to be
shot. There perished of the four European companies, a hundred and
sixty-four, besides officers; and many British officers of the native
troops were also murdered. Nothing ever came to light concerning the
probable cause of the outrage, but this—that an attempt had been made by
the military men at Madras to _change the shape of the sepoy turban_
into something resembling the helmet of the light infantry of Europe,
which would prevent the native troops from wearing on their foreheads
the marks characteristic of their several castes. The sons of Tippoo
Saib, the deposed ruler of Mysore, together with many distinguished
Mohammedans deprived of office, were at that time in Vellore; and the
supposition is, that these men contributed very materially to excite or
inflame the suspicions of the Hindoos, concerning an endeavour to tamper
with their religious usages. There was another mutiny some time
afterwards at Nundeydroog, in the same presidency; and it was found
indispensable to disarm four hundred and fifty Mohammedan sepoys, who
had planned a massacre. At Bangalore and other places a similar spirit
was exhibited. The governor of Madras deemed it necessary, in very
earnest terms, to disclaim any intention of tampering with the native
religion. In a proclamation issued on the 3d of December, he said: ‘The
right honourable the governor in council having observed that, in some
late instances, an extraordinary degree of agitation has prevailed among
several corps of the native army of this coast, it has been his
lordship’s particular endeavour to ascertain the motives which may have
led to conduct so different from that which formerly distinguished the
native army. From this inquiry, it has appeared that many persons of
evil intention have endeavoured, for malicious purposes, to impress upon
the native troops a belief that it is the wish of the British government
to convert them by forcible means to Christianity; and his lordship in
council has observed with concern that such malicious reports have been
believed by many of the native troops. The right honourable the governor
in council, therefore, deems it proper, in this public manner, to repeat
to the native troops his assurance, that the same respect which has been
invariably shewn by the British government for their religion and their
customs, will be always continued; and that no interruption will be
given to any native, whether Hindoo or Mussulman, in the practice of his
religious ceremonies.’ Notwithstanding the distinctness of this
assurance, and notwithstanding the extensive promulgation of the
proclamation in the Tamul, Telinga, and Hindustani languages—the ferment
continued a considerable time. Even in March 1807, when some months had
elapsed, so universal was the dread of a general revolt among the native
troops, that the British officers attached to the Madras army constantly
slept with loaded pistols under their pillows.
In the interval between 1806 and 1857, nothing so murderous occurred;
but, among the Bengal troops, many proofs of insubordination were
afforded; for it repeatedly occurred that grievances, real or pretended,
led to combinations among the men of different regiments. In 1835, Lord
William Bentinck, acting on a principle which had often been advocated
in England, abolished flogging in the Indian army; this appears to have
raised the self-pride rather than conciliated the good-will of the
troops: insubordination ensued, and several regiments had to be
disbanded. Again, in 1844, when several Bengal regiments were ordered to
march to Sinde, the 34th native infantry refused; whereupon Lord
Ellenborough, at that time governor-general, ignominiously disbanded the
regiment in presence of the rest of the army. Again, in 1849, Sir Colin
Campbell, serving under Sir Charles Napier, reported that the 22d Bengal
regiment had mutinied on a question of pay, in which they were clearly
in the wrong; but as the Punjaub was at that time in a critical state,
Sir Charles did that which was very opposite to his general character—he
yielded to an unjust demand, as a measure of prudence. It may have been
that the sepoys counted on this probability when they mutinied. No less
than forty-two regiments were ascertained to be in secret correspondence
on this matter, under Brahminical influence—one of whom went so far as
to threaten the commanding officer that they could stop enlistment if
they chose. In 1850, Napier was compelled to disband the 66th regiment,
for mutiny at Peshawur. In 1852, the 38th regiment was ordered to
proceed to Burmah; the men objected to the sea-voyage, and refused to
depart; and the authorities in this case gave way.
Like as, in the ordinary affairs of life, men compare notes after a
disaster, to ascertain whether any misgiving had silently occupied their
minds concerning causes and symptoms; so did many military officers,
observing that the troubles were all or mostly in Bengal, or where
Bengal troops operated, come forward to state that they had long been
cognizant of a marked difference between the Bengal army on the one
hand, and the Bombay and Madras armies on the other. Lord Melville, who,
as General Dundas, had held a command during the Punjaub campaign,
expressed himself very strongly in the House of Lords shortly after news
of the mutiny arrived. He stated that, in the Bengal army, the native
officers were in nearly all cases selected by seniority, and not from
merit; that they could not rise from the ranks till old age was creeping
on them; and that a sort of hopelessness of advancement cankered in the
minds of many sepoys in the middle time of life. In the Bombay and
Madras armies, on the contrary, the havildars or sergeants were selected
for their intelligence and activity, and were recommended for promotion
by the commanding officers of the regiments. It might possibly be a
theory unsusceptible of proof, that this difference made the one army
mutinous and the other two loyal; but Lord Melville proceeded to assert
that the Bengal troops were notoriously less fully organised and
disciplined, more prone to insubordination, than the troops of the other
two presidencies. He stated as an instance, that when he commanded the
Bombay army in the Punjaub frontier in 1849, the Bengal regiments were
mutinous; while the Bombay troops remained in soldierly subordination.
Indeed these latter, which he commanded in person, were credited by his
lordship with having exhibited the highest qualities of brave and
faithful troops. He detailed an incident which had occurred at the siege
of Moultan. A covering-party having been ordered into the trenches, some
disturbance soon afterwards arose; and an English officer found that
many soldiers of the Bengal army had been endeavouring to prevent the
men belonging to one of the Bombay regiments from digging in the
trenches in discharge of their duty, on the ground that the sepoys’ duty
_was to fight and not to work_. Again: after the assault of Moultan, an
officer in command of one of the pickets was requested to post a
sergeant and twelve men at one of the gates of the town; this was done;
but not long afterwards, three native officers of the Bengal engineers
were detected in an endeavour to pass the gate with stores which they
were about to plunder or appropriate. Although the views of Lord
Melville were combated by a few other officers, there was a pretty
general concurrence of opinion that the Bengal native army, through some
circumstances known or unknown, had long been less obedient and orderly
than those of the other two presidencies.
As it is the purpose of the present chapter to treat rather of the facts
that preceded the horrors of Meerut and Cawnpore, than of the numerous
theories for explaining them, we shall not dwell long in this place on
the affairs of Oude, in connection with the Revolt; but so general is
the opinion that the annexation of that kingdom was one of the
predisposing causes of the late calamities, that it may be right to
glance slightly at the subject.
Oude—once a nawabship under the great Mogul, then a kingdom, and the
last remaining independent Mohammedan state in Northern India—was
annexed in the early part of 1856; and although the governor-general
sought to give a favourable account, both in its reasons and its
results, of that momentous measure, there are not wanting grounds for
believing that it made a deep impression on the minds of the natives,
unfavourable to the English—among the military, if not among the people
at large. The deposed king, with his family and his prime-minister, came
to live at Calcutta in April 1856; and in the following month his
mother, his brother, and one of his sons, proceeded in great state to
England, to protest before Queen Victoria against the conduct of the
governor-general and of the East India Company, in having deprived them
of their regal position: prepared to prove, as they everywhere
announced, that no justifiable grounds had existed for so harsh a step.
Whether they sincerely believed this, or whether it was a blind to hide
ulterior objects, could not at that time be determined. It is one among
many opinions on the subject, that the courtiers around the deposed king
gradually organised a plot against the British power; that the Queen of
Oude’s visit to England was merely intended to mask the proceedings
arising out of this plot; that the conspirators brought over to their
views the Mogul of Delhi, the shadowy representative of a once mighty
despot; that they then sought to win over the Hindoos to side with them;
and that, in this proceeding, they adduced any and all facts that had
come to their knowledge, in which the British had unwittingly insulted
the religious prejudices of the worshippers of Brahma—craftily
insinuating that the insult was premeditated. The wisdom or justice of
the annexation policy we do not discuss in this place; there is a
multiplicity of interpretations concerning it—from that of absolute
necessity to that of glaring spoliation; but the point to be borne in
mind is, that a new grievance was thereby added to others, real or
pretended, already existing. It is especially worthy of note, that any
distrust of England, arising out of annexation policy, was likely to be
more intense in Oude than anywhere else; for three-fourths of the
infantry in the Bengal army had been recruited from the inhabitants of
that state; they were energetic men, strongly attached to their native
country; and when the change of masters took place, they lost certain of
the privileges they had before enjoyed. The Bengalees proper, the
natives of the thickly populated region around the lower course of the
Ganges, have little to do with the Bengal army; they are feeble,
indolent, and cowardly, glad by any excuses to escape from fighting.
Let us now—having said a few words concerning the centenary of British
rule, and the state of feeling in Oude—attend to the strange episode of
the _chupatties_, as a premonitory symptom of something wrong in the
state of public feeling in India.
The chupatties—small cakes of unleavened bread, about two inches in
diameter, made of Indian corn-meal, and forming part of the sepoys’
regular diet—were regarded in England, as soon as the circumstances of
the Revolt became known, as signs or symptoms which the various officers
of the Company in India ought sedulously to have searched into. Ever
since the middle of 1856—ever since, indeed, the final arrangements for
the annexation of Oude—these chupatties were known to have been passing
from hand to hand. A messenger would come to a village, seek out the
headman or village elder, give him six chupatties, and say: ‘These six
cakes are sent to you; you will make six others, and send them on to the
next village.’ The headman accepted the six cakes, and punctually sent
forward other six as he had been directed. It was a mystery of which the
early stages were beyond our ken; for no one could say, or no one would
say, which was the _first_ village whence the cakes were sent. During
many months this process continued: village after village being brought
into the chain as successive links, and relays of chupatties being
forwarded from place to place. Mr Disraeli, attacking on one occasion in
the House of Commons the policy of the Indian government, adverted
sarcastically to this chupatty mystery: ‘Suppose the Emperor of Russia,
whose territory, in extent and character, has more resemblance to our
Eastern possessions than the territory of any other power—suppose the
Emperor of Russia were told—“Sire, there is a very remarkable
circumstance going on in your territory; from village to village, men
are passing who leave the tail of an ermine or a pot of caviare, with a
message to some one to perform the same ceremony. Strange to say, this
has been going on in some ten thousand villages, and we cannot make head
or tail of it.” I think the Emperor of Russia would say: “I do not know
whether you can make head or tail of it, but I am quite certain there is
something wrong, and that we must take some precautions; because, where
the people are not usually indiscreet and troublesome, they do not make
a secret communication unless it is opposed to the government. This is a
secret communication, and therefore a communication dangerous to the
government.”’ The opposition leader did not assert that the government
could have penetrated the mystery, but that the mystery ought to have
been regarded as significant of something dangerous, worthy of close
scrutiny and grave consideration.
The chupatties first appeared in the Northwest Provinces, around Delhi;
and subsequent events offered a temptation for rebuking the
governor-general and the commander-in-chief, in having failed to
strengthen the posts with English troops after the indications of some
secret conspiracy had thus been made. In some places it was ascertained
that the cakes were to be kept _till called for_ by the messengers,
other cakes being sent on instead of them; but what was the meaning of
this arrangement, the English officials could not, or at least did not
find out. In Scotland, in the clannish days, war-signals were sent from
hut to hut and from clan to clan with extraordinary rapidity; and,
however little an unleavened cake might appear like a war-signal,
military men and politicians ought certainly to have been alive to such
strange manifestations as this chupatty movement. From the Sutlej to
Patna, throughout a vast range of thickly populated country, was the
secret correspondence carried on. One thing at any rate may safely be
asserted, that the military stations required close watching at such a
time; something was fermenting in the minds of the natives which the
English could not understand; but that very fact would have
justified—nay, rendered almost imperative—the guarding of the chief
posts from sudden surprise. Little or nothing of this precautionary
action seems to have been attempted. Throughout nearly the whole of the
great trunk-road from Calcutta to the Punjaub, the military stations
were left as before, almost wholly in the hands of the sepoys. At
Benares there was only a single company of European foot-artillery; the
rest of the troops consisting of two regiments of native infantry, and
one of the Cis-Sutlej Sikh regiments. At Allahabad, the great supply
magazine of the province was left almost wholly to the guard of the
sepoys. Lucknow had only one European regiment and one company of
artillery; notwithstanding that, as the capital of Oude, it was in the
midst of a warlike and excited population; while the native army of the
province, capable of soon assembling at the city, comprised no less than
fourteen regiments of infantry, six of cavalry, and six companies of
artillery. Cawnpore, a very important station with a large medical
depôt, contained three regiments of native infantry, one of native
cavalry, and two companies of native artillery with twelve guns; while
the English force was only a company of infantry, and about sixty
artillerymen with six guns. The large magazine of Delhi, the great
storehouse of ammunition for the military stations all around it, was
left to be guarded entirely by sepoys. The late General Anson, at that
time commander-in-chief, was among the hills at Simla, relaxing from his
duties; and neither at Simla nor at Calcutta did it seem to be felt
that, with existing symptoms, more European troops were necessary in the
Bengal and Northwest Provinces.
The chupatty was not the only symbol of some mystery: the _lotus_ was
another. It was a common occurrence for a man to come to a cantonment
with a lotus-flower, and give it to the chief native officer of a
regiment; the flower was circulated from hand to hand in the regiment;
each man took it, looked at it, and passed it on, saying nothing. When
the lotus came to the last man in the regiment, he disappeared for a
time, and took it to the next military station. This strange process
occurred throughout nearly all the military stations where regiments of
the Bengal native army were cantoned.
Chupatties and lotus-flowers, together with the incendiarism and the
cartridge grievances presently to be noticed, unquestionably indicated
some widely spread discontent among the natives—military if not general.
‘It is clear,’ in the words of an observant officer, writing from one of
the Cis-Sutlej stations, ‘that a certain ferment had been allowed
gradually to arise throughout the mass of the Bengal army. In some it
was panic, in some excitement, in some a mere general apprehension or
expectation, and in some it was no doubt disaffection, or even
conspiracy. Governing an alien people and a vast army, we had divested
ourselves of all the instruments of foreign domination so familiar to
Austria and all other continental powers. We had no political police, no
European strongholds, no system of intelligence or espionage,
comparatively little real military discipline; and even our own
post-office was the channel of free, constant, and unchecked intercourse
between all the different regiments. Not a letter even was opened; that
would have been too abhorrent to English principles. The sepoy mind had
probably become prepared to distrust us, as we had begun to distrust
them. There were strange new legislative acts, and new post-office
rules, and new foreign service enlistments, and new employment of armed
races in our army, and other things disagreeable and alarming to the
true old sepoy caste. And then it came about that from a small and
trifling beginning, one of those ferments to which the native mind is
somewhat prone, took possession of the sepoy army.’
One of the strange facts connected with the chupatty movement was, that
the cakes were transmitted to the heads of villages who have not been
concerned in the mutiny, while many sepoys who broke out in revolt had
received no cakes. They appear to have been distributed mostly to the
villagers; whereas the lotus passed from hand to hand among the
military.
The chupatties and the lotus-flowers, however indicative they may have
been of the existence of intrigue and conspiracy, were quiet
indications; but there were not wanting other proofs of a mutinous
spirit, in acts of violence and insubordination—apart from the
incendiarisms and the cartridge difficulties. On one evening, early in
the year, information was given by a sepoy of the intention of the men
to rise against their officers and seize on Fort William, at Calcutta.
On another occasion, a fanatic moulvie, a high Mohammedan priest at
Oude, was detected preaching war against the infidels; and on his person
was found a proclamation exciting the people to rebellion. On a third
day, two sepoys were detected in an attempt to sap the fidelity of the
guard at the Calcutta mint. An English surgeon in an hospital at
Lucknow, by the bedside of a sepoy, put his lips to a bottle of medicine
before giving it to his patient; this being regarded as a pollution, a
pundit was sent for to break the bottle and exorcise the evil: on that
night the doctor’s bungalow was burned down by incendiaries who could
not be discovered. A refusal to accept a furlough or leave of absence
might not usually be regarded as a symptom of a mutinous spirit; yet in
India it conveyed a meaning that could not safely be disregarded. On the
6th of March, the commander-in-chief, with the sanction of the
governor-general, notified that the native army would receive, as usual,
the annual indulgence of furlough from the 1st of April to a certain
subsequent date. When this order was read or issued, about fourteen men
of the 63d native infantry, stationed at Soorie, and under orders to
proceed to Berhampore, evinced a disinclination to avail themselves of
the indulgence, on the plea that none of the regiments at Barrackpore
intended to take theirs. It certainly appears to have been a
circumstance worthy of a searching inquiry by the military authorities,
_why_ the troops should have declined to take their furlough at that
particular time.
We must now pass on to that series of events which, so far as outward
manifestations are concerned, was more especially the immediate
forerunner of the Revolt—namely, the disturbances connected with the
_greased cartridges_. Let not the reader for a moment regard this as a
trivial matter, merely because it would be trivial in England: the
sepoys may have been duped, and indeed were unquestionably duped, by
designing men; but the subject of suspicion was a serious one to them.
The fat of cows and of pigs is regarded in a peculiar light in the East.
The pig is as much held in abhorrence by the Mohammedans as the cow is
venerated by the Hindoos; to touch the former with the lips, is a
defilement to the one religion; to touch the latter, is a sacrilege to
the other. The religious feelings are different, but the results in this
case are the same. So sacred, indeed, are cattle regarded by the
Hindoos, that the Company’s officers have been accustomed to observe
much caution in relation to any supply of beef for their own tables; the
slaughter of a cow in a Hindoo village would in itself have been a
sufficient cause for revolt; in large towns where Europeans are
stationed, a high-walled paddock or compound is set apart for the
reception of bullocks intended for food; and scrupulous care is taken
that the natives shall know as little as possible of the proceedings
connected with the slaughtering. The use of cow’s fat in ammunition
would therefore be repulsive to the Hindoo sepoy. Many experienced men
trace the mutiny to a false report concerning the cartridges, acting on
the minds of natives who had already become distrustful by the
machinations of agitators and emissaries. ‘It is a marvel and a mystery
that so many years should have passed away without an explosion. At last
a firebrand was applied to what a single spark might have ignited; and
in the course of a few weeks there was a general conflagration; but a
conflagration which still bears more marks of accident than of
deliberate conspiracy and incendiarism. In a most unhappy hour—in an
hour laden with a concurrence of adverse circumstances—the incident of
the greased cartridges occurred. It found the Bengal army in a season of
profound peace, and in a state of relaxed discipline. It found the
sepoys pondering over the predictions and the fables which had been so
assiduously circulated in their lines and their bazaars; it found them
with imaginations inflamed and fears excited by strange stories of the
designs of their English masters; it found them, as they fancied, with
their purity of caste threatened, and their religious distinctions
invaded, by the proselytising and annexing Englishmen. Still, there was
no palpable evidence of this. Everything was vague, intangible, obscure.
Credulous and simple-minded as they were, many might have retained a
lingering confidence in the good faith and the good intentions of the
British government: had it not been suddenly announced to them, just as
they were halting between two opinions, that, in prosecution of his
long-cherished design to break down the religion both of Mohammedan and
Hindoo, the Feringhee had determined to render their military service
the means of their degradation, by compelling them to apply their lips
to a cartridge saturated with animal grease—the fat of the swine being
used for the pollution of the one, and the fat of the cow for the
degradation of the other. If the most astute emissaries of evil who
could be employed for the corruption of the Bengal sepoy had addressed
themselves to the task of inventing a lie for the confirmation and
support of all his fears and superstitions, they could have found
nothing more cunningly devised for their purpose.’[6]
It was on the 7th of February 1857 that the governor-general
communicated to the home government the first account of anything
mysterious or unpleasant in relation to the greased cartridges. He had
to announce that a dissatisfaction had exhibited itself among the native
troops attached to the musketry-depôt at Dumdum. There are two Dumdums,
two Dumdumas, one Dumdumma, and one Dumdumineah in India; but the place
indicated is in Bengal, a few miles out of Calcutta, and about half-way
between that city and Barrackpore. It was formerly the head-quarters of
artillery for the presidency of Bengal; and near it is an excellent
cannon-foundry, with casting-rooms, boring-rooms, and all the appliances
for making brass guns. It is a sort of Woolwich on a humble scale,
connected with ordnance and firearms.
The sepoys at Dumdum had heard rumours which induced them to believe
that the grease used for preparing the cartridges for the recently
introduced Enfield rifles was composed of the fat of pigs and
cows—substances which their religion teaches them to regard in a light
altogether strange to Europeans. It was not the first time by three or
four years that the cartridge-question had excited attention in India,
although in England the public knew absolutely nothing concerning it.
From documents brought to light during the earlier months of the mutiny,
it appears that in 1853 the commander-in-chief of the forces in India
directed the adjutant-general of the Bengal army to call the attention
of the governor-general to the subject of cartridges as connected with
the prejudices of the natives. For what reason grease of any kind is
employed on or with cartridges, may be soon explained. A cartridge, as
most persons are aware, is a contrivance for quickly loading firearms.
Instead of inserting the powder and bullet separately into the musket,
rifle, or pistol, as was the earlier wont, the soldier is provided with
a supply of small cartridge-paper tubes, each containing a bullet and
the proper proportion of powder; and by the employment of these
cartridges much time and attention are saved under circumstances where
both are especially valuable. The missiles are called _ball_ or _blank_
cartridges, according as they do or do not each contain a bullet. Now
the Enfield rifle, an English improvement on the celebrated Minié rifle
invented and used by the French, was largely manufactured by machinery
in a government establishment at Enfield, for use in the British and
Indian armies; and in firing from this or other rifles it was necessary
that the ball-end of the cartridge should have an external application
of some greasy substance, to facilitate its movement through the barrel.
In the year above named, the East India Company informed the Calcutta
government, that a supply of new-greased cartridges had been sent, which
the Board of Ordnance wished should be subjected to the test of climate.
It was concerning these cartridges that the commander-in-chief
recommended caution; on the ground that ‘unless it be known that the
grease employed in these cartridges is not of a nature to offend or
interfere with the prejudices of caste, it will be expedient not to
issue them for test to native corps, but to Europeans only, to be
carried in pouch.’ It was not until June 1854 that the cartridges were
received in India; and during the next twelve months they were subjected
to various tests, at Calcutta, at Cawnpore, and at Rangoon. The
cartridges had been greased in four ways—with common grease, with
laboratory grease, with Belgian grease, and with Hoffman’s grease, in
each case with an admixture of creosote and tobacco; one set was tested
by being placed in the ordnance magazines, a second by being kept in
wagons, and a third by being tied up in pouch-bundles. The result of
these tests was communicated to the directors in the autumn of 1855; and
as a consequence, a modification was effected in the cartridges
afterwards sent from England for service with the Enfield rifles in
India.
To return now to the affair at Dumdum. When the complaints and
suspicions of the sepoys were made known, inquiries were sent to England
for exact particulars relating to the obnoxious missiles. It was
ascertained that the new cartridges were made at the Royal Laboratory at
Woolwich; and that Captain Boxer, the superintendent of that department,
was accustomed to use for lubrication a composition formed of five parts
tallow, five parts stearine, and one part wax—containing, therefore, ox
or cow’s fat, but none from pigs. He had no prejudices in the matter to
contend against in England, and used therefore just such a composition
as appeared to him most suitable for the purpose. The cartridges were
not sent out to India ready greased for use; as, in a hot country, the
grease would soon be absorbed by the paper: there was, therefore, a part
of the process left to be accomplished when the cartridges reached their
destination.
It appears to have been in the latter part of January that the first
open manifestation was made at Dumdum of a disinclination to use the
cartridges; and immediately a correspondence among the authorities
commenced concerning it. When the complaint had been made, the men were
seemingly appeased on being assured that the matter would be duly
represented; and as a means of conciliation, cartridges without grease
were issued, the men being allowed to apply any lubricating substance
they chose. It was further determined that no more ready-made cartridges
should be obtained from England, but that bullets and paper should be
sent separately, to be put together in India; that experiments should be
made at Woolwich, to produce some lubricating substance free from any of
the obnoxious ingredients; and that other experiments should meanwhile
be made by the 60th Rifles—at that time stationed at Meerut—having the
same object in view.
During the inquiry into the manifestation and alleged motives of this
insubordination, one fact was elicited, which, if correct, seems to
point to a date when the conspirators—whoever they may have been—began
to act upon the dupes. On the 22d of January, a low-caste Hindoo asked a
sepoy of the 2d Bengal Grenadiers to give him a little water from his
lota or bottle; the other, being a Brahmin, refused, on the ground that
the applicant would defile the vessel by his touch—a magnificence of
class-superiority to which only the Hindoo theory could afford place.
This refusal was met by a retort, that the Brahmin need not pride
himself on his caste, for he would soon lose it, as he would ere long be
required to bite off the ends of cartridges covered with the fat of pigs
and cows. The Brahmin, alarmed, spread the report; and the native
troops, as is alleged, were afraid that when they went home their
friends would refuse to eat with them. When this became known to the
English officers, the native troops were drawn up on parade, and
encouraged to state the grounds of their dissatisfaction. All the native
sergeants and corporals, and two-thirds of all the privates, at once
stepped forward, expressed their abhorrence of having to touch anything
containing the fat of cows or pigs, and suggested the employment of wax
or oil for lubricating the cartridges. It was then that the conciliatory
measures, noticed above, were adopted.
Still were there troubles and suspicious circumstances; but the scene is
now transferred from Dumdum to Barrackpore. This town, sixteen miles
from Calcutta, is worthy of note chiefly for its connection with the
supreme government of India. The governor-general has a sort of suburban
residence there, handsome, commodious, and situated in the midst of a
very beautiful park. There are numerous bungalows or villas inhabited by
European families, drawn to the spot by the salubrity of the air, by the
beauty of the Hoogly branch of the Ganges, at this place three-quarters
of a mile in width, and by the garden and promenade attached to the
governor-general’s villa. In military matters, before the Revolt, there
was a ‘presidency division of the army,’ of which some of the troops
were in Calcutta, some at Barrackpore, and a small force of artillery at
Dumdum, nearly midway between the two places; the whole commanded by a
general officer at Barrackpore, under whom was a brigadier to command
that station only. The station is convenient for military operations in
the eastern part of Bengal, and for any sudden emergencies at Calcutta.
Six regiments of native infantry were usually cantoned at Barrackpore,
with a full complement of officers: the men hutted in commodious lines,
and the officers accommodated in bungalows or lodges.
It was at this place that the discontent next shewed itself, much to the
vexation of the government, who had hoped that the Dumdum affair had
been satisfactorily settled, and who had explained to the native
regiments at Barrackpore what had been done to remove the alleged cause
of complaint. The sepoys at this place, however, made an objection to
bite off the ends of the cartridges—a necessary preliminary to the
loading of a rifle—on account of the animal fat contained, or supposed
to be contained, in the grease with which the paper was lubricated: such
fat not being permitted to touch the lips or tongues of the men, under
peril of defilement. Some of the authorities strongly suspected that
this renewed discontent was the work of secret agitators rather than a
spontaneous expression of the men’s real feeling. There was at the time
a religious Hindoo society or party at Calcutta, called the Dhurma
Sobha, suspected of having spread rumours that the British government
intended to compel the Hindoos to become Christians. Contemporaneously,
too, with this movement, three incendiary fires took place at
Barrackpore within four days; and a native sergeant’s bungalow was burnt
down at Raneegunge, another military station in Lower Bengal. It was
natural, therefore, that General Hearsey, the responsible officer at
Barrackpore, should wish to ascertain what connection, if any, existed
between these incendiarisms, intrigues, complainings, and greased
cartridges. This was the more imperative, on account of the relative
paucity of English troops in that part of India. There were four native
regiments quartered at that time at Barrackpore—namely, the 2d
Grenadiers, the 34th and 70th Native Infantry, and the 43d Native Light
Infantry; whereas, in the four hundred miles between Calcutta and
Dinapoor there was only one European regiment, the Queen’s 53d foot, of
which one half was at Calcutta and the other half at Dumdum. The general
held a special court of inquiry at Barrackpore on the 6th of February,
and selected a portion of the 2d native Grenadier regiment to come
forward and explain the cause of their continued objection to the paper
of which the new rifle-cartridges were composed. One of the sepoys,
Byjonath Pandy, stated that he felt a suspicion that the paper might
affect his caste. On being asked his reason for this suspicion, he
answered that the paper was a new kind which he had not seen before; and
there was a ‘bazaar report’ that the paper contained animal fat. On
being requested to examine the paper carefully in the light, and to
explain to the court what he saw objectionable in it, he replied that
his suspicion proceeded from the paper being stiff and cloth-like, and
from its tearing differently from the paper formerly in use. Another
sepoy, Chaud Khan, was then examined. He objected to the paper because
it was tough, and burned as if it contained grease. He stated that much
dismay had been occasioned in the regiment by the fact that ‘on the 4th
of February a piece of the cartridge-paper was dipped in water, and then
burned; when burning, it made a fizzing noise, and smelt as if there
were grease in it.’ Thereupon a piece of the paper was burned in open
court; Chaud Khan confessed that he could not smell or see grease in it;
but he repeated his objection to the use of the paper, on the plea that
‘everybody is dissatisfied with it on account of its being glazed,
shining like waxed cloth.’ Another witness, Khadu Buksh, filling the
rank of subadar or native captain, on being examined, frankly stated
that he had no objection to the cartridge itself, but that there was a
general report in the cantonment that the paper was made up with fat. A
jemadar or lieutenant, named Golal Khan, said very positively: ‘There is
grease in it, I feel assured; as it differs from the paper which has
heretofore been always used for cartridges.’ As shewing the well-known
power of what in England would be called ‘public opinion,’ the answer of
one of the sepoys is worthy of notice; he candidly confessed that he
himself had no objection to use the cartridges, but he could not do so,
as his companions would object to it. While these occurrences were under
scrutiny, a jemadar of the 34th regiment came forward to narrate what he
knew on the matter, as affording proof of conspiracy. On the 5th, when
the fear of detection had begun to work among them, two or three of the
sepoys came to him, and asked him to accompany them to the
parade-ground. He did so, and there found a great crowd assembled,
composed of men of the different regiments at the station; they had
their heads tied up in handkerchiefs or cloths, so that only a small
part of the face was exposed. They told him they were determined to die
for their religion; and that if they could concert a plan that evening,
they would on the next night plunder the station and kill all the
Europeans, and then depart whither they pleased. The number he stated to
be about three hundred. It was not at the time known to the authorities,
but was rendered probable by circumstances afterwards brought to light,
that letters and emissaries were being despatched, at the beginning of
February, from the native troops at Barrackpore to those at other
stations, inviting them to rise in revolt against the British.
Under any other circumstances, a discussion concerning such petty
matters as bits of cartridge-paper and items of grease would be simply
ridiculous; but at that time and place the ruling authorities, although
ignorant of the real extent of the danger, saw clearly that they could
not afford to regard such matters as otherwise than serious. There was
either a sincere prejudice to be conciliated, or a wide-spread
conspiracy to be met; and it was at once determined to test again the
sincerity of the sepoys, by yielding to their (apparently) religious
feelings on a matter which did not affect the efficiency of the service.
A trial was made, therefore, of a mode of loading the rifle without
biting the cartridge, by tearing off the end with the left hand. The
commander-in-chief, finding on inquiry that this method was sufficiently
efficacious, and willing to get rid of mere formalism in the matter,
consented that the plan should be adopted both for percussion-muskets
and for rifles. This done, the governor-general, by virtue of his
supreme command, ordered the adoption of the same system throughout
India.
The scene now again changes: we have to attend to certain proceedings at
Berhampore, following on those at Barrackpore. Of Berhampore as a town,
little need be said here; and that little is called for principally to
determine _which_ Berhampore is meant. Under the forms Berhampore,
Berhampoor, or Burhampore, there are no less than four towns in
India—one in the native state of Nepaul, sixty miles from Khatmandoo;
another in the Nagpoor territory, sixty miles from the city of the same
name; another in the Madras presidency, near Orissa; and a fourth in the
district of Moorshedabad, Lower Bengal. It is this last-named Berhampore
to which attention is here directed. The town is on the left bank of the
river Bhagruttee, a great offset of the Ganges, and on the high road
from Calcutta to Moorshedabad—distant about a hundred and twenty miles
from the first-named city by land, and a hundred and sixty by water. It
is in a moist, unhealthy spot, very fatal to Europeans, and in
consequence disliked by them as a station in past times; but sanitary
measures, draining, and planting have greatly improved it within the
last few years. As a town, it is cheerful and attractive in appearance,
adorned by stately houses in the neighbourhood, to accommodate permanent
British residents. The military cantonments are large and striking; the
grand square, the excellent parade-ground, the quarters of the European
officers—all are handsome. Before the Revolt, Berhampore was included
within the presidency division in military matters, and was usually
occupied by a body of infantry and another of artillery. There is
painful evidence of the former insalubrity of the station met with in a
large open space filled with tombstones, contrasting mournfully with the
majestic cantonments of the military. Berhampore has, or had a few years
ago, a manufactory of the silk bandana handkerchiefs once so popular in
England.
The troubles in this town were first made manifest in the following way.
On or about the 24th of February, a portion of the 34th regiment of
Bengal infantry changed its station from Barrackpore to Berhampore,
where it was greeted and feasted by the men of the 19th native infantry,
stationed there at that time. During their feasting, the new-comers
narrated all the news from Dumdum and Barrackpore concerning the greased
cartridges; and the effects of this gossip were very soon made visible.
To understand what occurred, the mode of piling or storing arms in India
must be attended to; in the Bombay army, and in the Queen’s regiments,
the men were wont to keep their arms with them in their huts; but in the
Bengal army, it was a custom to deposit them in circular brick buildings
called bells, which were kept locked under native guard, each in front
of a particular company’s lines. The men of the 19th regiment, then,
excited by the rumours and stories, the fears and suspicions of their
companions in arms elsewhere, but not knowing or not believing—or
perhaps not caring for—the promises of change made by the military
authorities, broke out into insubordination. On the 26th of February,
being ordered to parade for exercise with blank cartridges, they refused
to receive the percussion-caps, as a means of rendering their firing
impossible—alleging that the cartridge-paper supplied for the charge was
of two kinds; that they doubted the qualities of one or both; and that
they believed in the presence of the fat of cows or pigs in the grease
employed. That the men were either dupes or intriguers is evident; for
it so happened that the cartridges offered to them were the very same in
kind as they had used during many years, and had been made up before a
single Enfield rifle had reached India. This resistance was a serious
affair; it was something more than a complaint or petition, and needed
to be encountered with a strong hand. It is a matter of opinion, judged
differently even by military men accustomed to India and its natives,
whether the proper course was on that occasion taken. The commanding
officer, Lieutenant-colonel Mitchell, ordered a detachment of native
cavalry and a battery of native artillery—the only troops at Barrackpore
besides those already named—to be on parade on the following morning.
Between ten and eleven o’clock at night, however, the men of the 19th
regiment broke open the armouries or bells, took possession of their
muskets and ammunition, and carried them to their lines. The next day,
the guns were got ready, and the officers proceeded to the
parade-ground, where they found the men in undress, but armed, formed in
line, and shouting. The officers were threatened if they came on.
Mitchell then expostulated with them; he pointed out the absurdity of
their suspicions, and the unworthiness of their present conduct, and
commanded them to give up their arms and return peaceably to their
lines; whereupon the native officers said the men would refuse so to do
unless the cavalry and artillery were withdrawn. The lieutenant-colonel
withdrew them, and then the infantry yielded. It was a difficult
position for an officer to be placed in; if he had struggled, it would
have been with natives against natives; and, doubtful of the result of
such a contest, he assented to the men’s conditional surrender.
The affair could not be allowed to end here. The Calcutta authorities,
receiving news on the 4th of March of this serious disaffection, but
deeming it unsafe to punish while so few European troops were at hand,
sent quietly to Rangoon in Pegu, with orders that Her Majesty’s 84th
foot should steam up to Calcutta as quickly as possible. On the 20th,
this regiment arrived; and then the governor-general, acting in harmony
with Major-general Hearsey, resolved on the disbandment of the native
regiment which had disregarded the orders of its superiors. Accordingly,
on the 31st of March, the 19th regiment was marched from Berhampore to
Barrackpore, the head-quarters of the military division; the men were
disarmed, paid off, marched out of the cantonments as far as Palta
Ghaut, and conveyed across the river in steamers placed for the purpose.
In short, the regiment, in a military sense, was destroyed, without
personal punishment to any of the men composing it. But though not
punished, in the ordinary sense, the infliction was a great one; for the
men at once became penniless, unoccupied, objectless. The
governor-general, in describing these proceedings for the information of
the home government, added: ‘We trust that the severe measures which we
have been forced to adopt will have the effect of convincing the native
troops that they will only bring ruin on themselves by failing in their
duty to the state and in obedience to their officers.’
[Illustration:
VISCOUNT CANNING.
]
On the occasion just adverted to, General Hearsey addressed the men very
energetically, while an official paper from the governor-general, read
to the troops, asserted in distinct terms that the rumour was wholly
groundless which imputed to the government an intention to interfere
with the religion of the people. It was a charge soon afterwards brought
in England against the governor-general, that, having subscribed to
certain missionary societies in India, he did not like to abjure all
attempts at the conversion of the natives; and that, being thus balanced
between his public duty and his private religious feeling, he had issued
the general order to the whole army, but had not shewn any solicitude to
convey that positive declaration to all the natives in all the
cantonments or military stations. This, however, was said when Viscount
Canning was not present to defend himself; reasonable men soon saw that
the truth was not to be obtained by such charges, unless supported by
good evidence. It is, however, certain, that much delay and routine
formality occurred throughout all these proceedings. As early as the
11th of February, General Hearsey wrote from Barrackpore the expressive
words: ‘We are on a mine ready to explode’—in allusion to the uneasy
state of feeling or opinion among the sepoys that their religious usages
were about to be tampered with; and yet it was not until the 27th of
March that the Supreme Council at Calcutta agreed to the issue of a
general order declaring it to be the invariable rule of the government
to treat the religious tendencies of all its servants with respect; nor
until the 31st that this general order was read to the troops at
Barrackpore. Considering the mournful effects of dilatoriness and rigid
formalism during the Crimean war, the English public had indulged a hope
that a healthy reform would be introduced into the epistolary mechanism
of the government departments; and this was certainly to some extent
realised in England; but unfortunately the reform had not yet reached
India. During these early months of the mutiny, an absurd waste of time
occurred in the writing and despatching of an enormous number of
letters, where a personal interview, or a verbal message by a trusty
servant, might have sufficed. Eight letters were written, and four days
consumed, before the Calcutta authorities knew what was passing at
Dumdum, eight miles distant. A certain order given by the colonel of a
regiment at Calcutta being considered injudicious by the general, an
inquiry was made as to the grounds for the order; eight days and nine
letters were required for this inquiry and the response to it, and yet
the two officers were within an hour’s distance of each other during the
whole time. Although the affair at Barrackpore on the 6th of February
was assuredly of serious import, it was not known to the government at
Calcutta until the evening of the 10th, notwithstanding that a horseman
might easily have ridden the sixteen miles in two hours. General
Hearsey’s reply to a question as to the cause of the delay is truly
instructive, as exemplifying the slowness of official progress in India:
‘I have no means of communicating anything to the government; I have no
mounted orderly, no express camels; I must always write by the post; and
that leaves Barrackpore at the most inconvenient hour of three o’clock
in the afternoon.’ These facts, trivial in themselves, are worthy of
being borne in mind, as indicative of defects in the mechanism of
government likely to be disastrous in times of excitement and
insubordination.
Barrackpore was destined to be a further source of vexation and
embarrassment to the government. It will be remembered that a part of
the 34th native infantry went from that town to Berhampore in the last
week in February; but the bulk of the regiment remained at Barrackpore.
Inquiries, afterwards instituted, brought to light the fact that the
European commander of that regiment had been accustomed to distribute
religious tracts among his men; and it was surmised that the scruples
and prejudices of the natives, especially the Brahmins, had been
unfavourably affected by this proceeding. But whether the cause had or
had not been rightly guessed, it is certain that the 34th displayed more
mutinous symptoms at that time than any other regiment. When the news of
the disturbance at Berhampore reached them, they became greatly excited:
they attended to their duties, but with sullen doggedness; and they held
nightly meetings, at which speeches were made sympathetic with the
Berhampore mutineers. The authorities, not wholly ignorant of these
meetings, nevertheless remained quiet until a European regiment could
arrive to aid them. When the Queen’s 84th arrived at Calcutta, the 34th
were more excited than ever, believing that something hostile was
intended against them; their whispers became murmurs, and they openly
expressed their sympathy. When, in accordance with the plan noticed in
the last paragraph, the 19th were marched off from Berhampore to be
disbanded at Barrackpore, the 34th displayed still greater audacity. The
19th having rested for a time at Barraset, eight miles from Barrackpore,
a deputation from the 34th met them, and made a proposal that they
should that very night kill all their officers, march to Barrackpore,
join the 2d and 34th, fire the bungalows, surprise and overwhelm the
Europeans, seize the guns, and then march to threaten Calcutta. Had the
19th been as wild and daring, as irritated and vengeful, as the 34th,
there is no knowing what calamities might have followed; but they
exhibited rather a repentant and regretful tone, and submitted
obediently to all the details of their disbandment at Barrackpore.
It will therefore be seen that the seeds of further disaffection had
been already sown. As the 34th native infantry had been instrumental in
inciting the 19th to mutiny, ending in disbandment, so did it now bring
a similar punishment on itself. On the 29th of March, one Mungal Pandy,
a sepoy in the 34th, roused to a state of excitement by the use of
intoxicating drugs, armed himself with a sword and a loaded musket,
traversed the lines, called upon his comrades to rise, and declared he
would shoot the first European he met. Lieutenant Baugh, adjutant of the
corps, hearing of this man’s conduct, and of the excited state of the
regiment generally, rode hastily to the lines. Mungal Pandy fired,
missed the officer, but struck his horse. The lieutenant, in
self-defence, fired his pistol, but missed aim; whereupon the sepoy
attacked him with his sword, wounded him in the hand, brought him to the
ground, and tried to entice the other soldiers to join in the attack.
The sergeant-major of the corps, who went to the lieutenant’s
assistance, was also wounded by Mungal Pandy. The dark feature in this
transaction was that many hundred men in the regiment looked on quietly
without offering to protect the lieutenant from his assailant; one of
them, a jemadar, refused to take Mungal into custody, and forbade his
men to render any assistance to the lieutenant, who narrowly escaped
with his life. Major-general Hearsey, on being informed of the
occurrence, proceeded to the parade-ground, where, to his astonishment,
he saw the man walking to and fro, with a blood-smeared sword in one
hand, and a loaded musket in the other. He advanced with some officers
and men to secure the sepoy, which was accomplished with much
difficulty; and it was only by the most resolute bearing of the
major-general that the rest of the men could be induced to return
quietly to their lines. A court-martial was held on Mungal Pandy, and on
the rebellious jemadar, both of whom were forthwith found guilty, and
executed on the 8th of April. No assignable cause appeared for the
conduct of this man: it may have been a mere drunken frenzy; yet there
is more probability that a mutinous spirit, concealed within his breast
during sober moments, made its appearance unchecked when under the
influence of drugs. There was another sepoy, however, who acted
faithfully on the occasion; this man, Shiek Paltoo, was accompanying
Lieutenant Baugh as orderly officer at the time of the attack; and by
his prompt assistance the lieutenant was saved from further injury than
a slight wound. Shiek Paltoo was raised to the rank of supernumerary
havildar for his brave and loyal conduct.
[Illustration:
Calcutta.
]
The outrage, however, could not be allowed to terminate without further
punishment. For a time, the government at Calcutta believed that the
execution of the two principal offenders would suffice, and that the
sepoys would quietly return to their obedience; but certain ominous
occurrences at Lucknow and elsewhere, about the end of April, shewed the
necessity for a stern line of conduct, especially as the 34th still
displayed a kind of sullen doggedness, as if determined on further
insubordination. After mature consideration the whole of the disposable
troops in and around Calcutta were, on the 5th of May, marched off to
Barrackpore, to effect the disarming and disbanding of such sepoys among
the 34th as were present in the lines when Lieutenant Baugh was wounded.
The force comprised the Queen’s 64th regiment, a wing of the 53d, the
2d, 43d, and 70th native infantry, two squadrons of cavalry, and a light
field-battery with six guns. When these troops had been drawn up in two
sides of a square, on the morning of the 6th, about four hundred sepoys
of the 34th were halted in front of the guns. The order for disbandment
was read out by the interpreter, Lieutenant Chamier; and after a few
energetic remarks upon the enormity of their offence, General Hearsey
commanded them to pile their arms, and strip off the uniform which they
had disgraced. When this was done, the work of paying up their arrears
was commenced. They were then dismissed with their families and baggage,
to Chinsura, a town a few miles higher up the Hoogly. The grenadiers of
the 84th, and a portion of the cavalry, accompanied them to see that
they went to and settled at Chinsura, and did not cross the river to
Chittagong, where three other companies of the same regiment were
stationed. Four of the disbanded sepoys were officers; one of whom, a
subadar, sobbed bitterly at his loss and degradation, although it was
strongly suspected that he had been one of the leaders in the
insubordination. In the general order which the governor-general ordered
to be read to every regiment in the service, concerning this
disbandment, words occur which shew that the old delusion was still
working in the breasts of the natives. ‘The sepoy who was the chief
actor in the disgraceful scene of the 29th of March called upon his
comrades to come to his support, for the reason that their religion was
in danger, and that they were about to be compelled to employ
cartridges, the use of which would do injury to their caste; and from
the words in which he addressed the sepoys, it is to be inferred that
many of them shared this opinion with him. The governor-general in
council has recently had occasion to remind the army of Bengal that the
government of India has never interfered to constrain its soldiers in
matters affecting their religious faith. He has declared that the
government of India never will do so; and he has a right to expect that
this declaration shall give confidence to all who have been deceived and
led astray. But, whatever may be the deceptions or evil counsels to
which others have been exposed, the native officers and men of the 34th
regiment native infantry have no excuse for misapprehension on this
subject. Not many weeks previously to the 29th of March, it had been
explained to that regiment—first by their own commanding officer, and
subsequently by the major-general commanding the division—that their
fears for religion were groundless. It was carefully and clearly shewn
to them that the cartridges which they would be called upon to use
contained nothing which could do violence to their religious scruples.
If, after receiving these assurances, the sepoys of the 34th regiment,
or of any other regiment, still refuse to place trust in their officers
and in the government, and still allow suspicions to take root in their
minds, and to grow into disaffection, insubordination, and mutiny, the
fault is their own, and their punishment will be upon their own heads.’
Five weeks elapsed between the offence of the 19th native infantry and
its punishment by disbandment; five weeks similarly elapsed between the
offence and the disbandment of the 34th; and many observant officers
were of opinion that these delays worked mischief, by instilling into
the minds of the sepoys a belief that the authorities were afraid to
punish them. Whether the punishment of disbanding was, after all,
sufficiently severe, is a question on which military men are by no means
agreed.
At a later date than the events narrated in this chapter, but closely
connected with them in subject, was the circulation of a report
manifestly intended to rouse the religious prejudices of the Hindoos by
a false assertion concerning the designs of the ruling powers. In some
of the towns of Southern India, far away from Bengal, unknown emissaries
circulated a paper, or at least a story, of which the following was the
substance: That the padres, probably Christian missionaries, had sent a
petition to the Queen of England, complaining of the slowness with which
Hindoos were made to become Christians; they adduced the conduct of some
of the Mohammedan potentates of India in past times, such as Tippoo
Saib, who had compelled the Hindoos to embrace Islamism; and they
suggested a similar authoritative policy. The story made the padres give
this advice: to mix up bullocks’ fat and pigs’ fat with the grease
employed on the cartridges; in order that, by touching these substances
with their teeth or lips, the sepoys might lose caste, and thus induce
them to embrace Christianity as their only resource. The climax of the
story was reached by making the Queen express her joy at the plan, and
her resolve that it should be put in operation. The success of such a
lying rumour must, of course, have mainly depended on the ignorance and
credulity of the natives.
A far-distant region now calls for notice. At a time when the Upper and
Lower Bengal provinces were, as the authorities hoped and believed,
recovering from the wild excitement of the cartridge question, the
commissioner of the Cis-Sutlej territory had ample means for knowing
that the minds of the natives in that region were mischievously agitated
by some cause or other. It is necessary here to understand what is meant
by this geographical designation. If we consult a map in which an
attempt is made, by distinct colouring, to define British territory from
semi-independent states, we shall find the region between Delhi and
Lahore cut up in a most extraordinary way. The red British patches are
seen to meander among the scraps of native territory with great
intricacy: so much so, indeed, that a map on a very large scale could
alone mark the multitudinous lines of boundary; and even such a map
would soon become obsolete, for the red, like a devouring element, has
been year by year absorbing bits of territory formerly painted green or
yellow. The peculiar tribe of the Sikhs, besides occupying the Punjaub,
inhabit a wide region on the east or left bank of the river Sutlej,
generally included under the name of Sirhind. For fifty years the
British in India have had to deal, or have made a pretext for dealing,
with the petty Sikh chieftains of this Sirhind region: at one time
‘protecting’ those on the east of the Sutlej from the aggression of the
great Sikh leader, Runjeet Singh, on the west of that river; then
‘annexing’ the small territories of some of these chieftains on failure
of male heirs; then seizing others as a punishment for non-neutrality or
non-assistance during war-time. Thus it arose that—before the annexation
of the Punjaub itself in 1849—much of the Sikh country in Sirhind had
become British, and was divided into four districts marked by the towns
of Ferozpore, Umballa or Umballah, Loodianah, and Kythul; leaving
Putialah, Jeend, and Furreedkote as the three principal protected or
semi-independent Sikh states of that country. Meanwhile a region
somewhat to the east or northeast of Sirhind was subject to just the
same process. Being hilly, it is called the Hill Country; and being
ruled by a number of petty chieftains, the separate bits of territory
are called the Hill States. During about forty years the process of
absorption has been going on—arising primarily out of the fact that the
British aided the Hill chieftains against the Nepaulese, and then paid
themselves in their wonted manner. Part of Gurhwal was annexed; then
Sundock, Malowa, and a number of other places not easily found in the
maps; and afterwards Ramgurh was given back in exchange for Simla, to
form a healthy holiday-place among the hills, a sort of Balmoral for
sick governors and commanders. As a final result, much of the Hill
Country became British, and the rest was left in the hands of about
twenty petty chieftains.
Now, when the Cis-Sutlej territory is mentioned, it must be interpreted
as including all the region taken by the British from the minor Sikh
chieftains in Sirhind; together with such of the Hill States of Gurhwal
and its vicinity as have become British. The whole together have been
made a sub-government, under a commissioner responsible to the
governor-general; or, more strictly, the commissioner rules the Sirhind
region, while the Hills are included among the non-regulation districts
of the Agra government. The four towns and districts of Ferozpore,
Loodianah, Umballa, and Kythul, east of the Sutlej, will suffice for our
purpose to indicate the Cis-Sutlej territory—so named in a Calcutta
point of view, as being on the _cis_ or _hither_ side of the Sutlej, in
reference to that city.
It was at Umballa, one of the towns in the Cis-Sutlej territory, that
the commissioner, Mr Barnes, reported acts of incendiarism that much
perplexed him. On the 26th of March, Hurbunsee Singh, a subadar or
native captain in the 36th regiment native infantry, attached to the
musketry depôt at that place, became an object of attack to the other
men of the regiment; they endeavoured to burn his hut and his property.
It was just at the time when reports reached Umballa relative to the
cartridges, the using of which was said by the sepoys to be an
innovation derogatory to their caste and religion. Hurbunsee Singh had
at once come forward, and publicly stated his willingness to fire with
such cartridges, as being, in his opinion, free from objection. The
incendiarism took place on the day named; and the commissioner directly
inferred that there must be something wrong in the thoughts of men who
would thus seek to injure one of their own native officers on such
grounds. Nothing further occurred, however, until the 13th of April,
when another fire broke out. This was followed by a third on the 15th,
in some outhouses belonging to the 60th native infantry; by two fires on
the 16th, when government property was burned to the value of thirty
thousand rupees; by the burning on the 17th of an empty bungalow in the
5th regiment native infantry lines, of a stable belonging to an English
officer of the 60th, and of another building. On the 20th, attempts were
made on the houses of the jemadar and havildar of the 5th regiment, two
native officers favourable to the new cartridges; and under the bed of
the jemadar were found gunpowder and brimstone, as if to destroy the man
as well as his property. Some of the buildings are believed to have been
set on fire by dropping burning brimstone through holes in the roof; and
on one occasion, when the attempt at incendiarism had failed, a paper
containing powder and brimstone was found. On the 21st and two following
days, similar fires occurred. On the 25th, the house of the band-master
of Her Majesty’s 9th Lancers was fired and burned; and two or three
similar attempts were shortly afterwards made, but frustrated. At all
these fires, the engines of the cantonment were set to work; but it was
observed that many of the sepoys worked listlessly and indifferently, as
if their thoughts were bent rather upon fire-raising than
fire-quenching.
That such occurrences produced uneasiness among the English authorities
at Umballa may well be supposed. Captain Howard, magistrate of the
cantonment, wrote thus to the Calcutta government: ‘The emanating cause
of the arson at this cantonment, I conceive, originated with regard to
the newly introduced cartridges, to which the native sepoy shews his
decided objection: it being obnoxious to him from a false idea—which,
now that it has entered the mind of the sepoy, is difficult to
eradicate—that the innovation of this cartridge is derogatory both to
his caste and his religion.... That this has led to the fires at this
cantonment, in my own private mind I am perfectly convinced. Were it the
act of only one or two, or even a few persons, the well-disposed sepoys
would at once have come forward and forthwith informed; but that there
is an organised leagued conspiracy existing, I feel confident. Though
all and every individual composing a regiment may not form part of the
combination, still I am of opinion that such a league in each corps is
known to exist; and such being upheld by the majority, or rather
connived at, therefore it is that no single man dared to come forward
and expose it.’ Although proof could not be obtained of the culpability
of any one sepoy, the incendiarism was at once attributed to them rather
than to the peasantry. The existence of some oath or bond of secrecy was
further supposed from the fact that a reward of one thousand rupees
failed to bring forward a single witness or accuser. After about twenty
attempts at burning buildings, more or less successful, the system was
checked—by the establishment of mounted and foot patrols and pickets; by
the expulsion of all fakeers and idle persons not belonging to the
cantonment; by the refusal of a passage through it to sepoys on furlough
or discharged; and by the arrest of such sepoys in the Umballa regiments
as, having furloughs, still remained in the cantonment—influenced,
apparently, by some mischievous designs.
Every one coincided in opinion with Captain Howard that there had been
an organised plan among the sepoys; but some of the officers in the
Company’s service, civil as well as military, differed from him in
attributing it solely to the cartridge affair—they thought this a blind
or pretence to hide some deeper scheme. The commissioner of the
Cis-Sutlej states, however, agreed with the magistrate, and expressed an
opinion that nothing would restore quiet but a concession to the natives
in the matter of greased cartridges; and he recommended to the
government at Calcutta the adoption of that line of policy. Writing on
the 7th of May, he said: ‘Fires, for the present, have ceased; but I do
not think that this is any indication that the uneasy feeling among the
sepoys is on the wane.’ Considering the position of Umballa, it is no
wonder that those in authority at that spot should feel anxiety
concerning the safety of their position. Umballa is more than a thousand
miles from Calcutta, separated from it by the whole of the important
states in which the cities of Delhi, Meerut, Agra, Cawnpore, Lucknow,
Allahabad, and Benares are situated, and deprived of assistance from
thence in the event of the intermediate regions being disturbed. Umballa
is a somewhat important town, too, in itself, with more than twenty
thousand inhabitants; it is large, and surrounded with a wall, well
supplied with water, bounded by a highly fertile district, and capable
of furnishing abundant supplies to rebels, if held by them.
The authorities, awakened by these events in so many parts of India,
sought to inquire whether the native newspaper press of India had
fermented the anarchy. It seemed at first ridiculous to suppose that
those miserable little sheets, badly written and worse printed, and
having a small circulation, could have contributed much to the creation
of the evil. Yet many facts tended to the support of this view. It was a
frequent custom in those papers to disguise the writer’s real sentiments
under the flimsy mask of a dialogue, in which one side was uniformly
made victor. When the government was not actually abused and vilified,
it was treated with ridicule, and its motives distorted. There were not
many copies of these papers printed and sold; but a kind of ubiquity was
afforded to them by the practice of news-mongers or tale-bearers, who
went from hut to hut, retailing the various items of news or of comment
that had been picked up.
Indeed, the tendency of the people to listen to attacks against the
government is now known to have been very marked among the Hindoos.
Predictions of the downfall of rulers were a favourite subject with
them. Of course, such predictions would not be openly hazarded in
newspapers; but they not less surely reached the ears of the natives.
Thirty years ago, Sir John Malcolm spoke on this subject in the
following way: ‘My attention has been, during the last twenty-five
years, particularly directed to this dangerous species of secret war
against our authority, which is always carrying on by numerous though
unseen hands. The spirit is kept up by letters, by exaggerated reports,
and by pretended prophecies. When the time appears favourable, from the
occurrence of misfortune to our arms, from rebellion in our provinces,
or from mutiny in our troops, circular-letters and proclamations are
dispersed over the country with a celerity almost incredible. Such
documents are read with avidity. The contents in most cases are the
same. The English are depicted as usurpers of low caste, and as tyrants
who have sought India with no other view but that of degrading the
inhabitants and of robbing them of their wealth, while they seek to
subvert their usages and their religion. The native soldiery are always
appealed to, and the advice to them is, in all instances I have met
with, the same—“_Your European tyrants are few in number_: kill them!”’
This testimony of Malcolm is especially valuable, as illustrating, and
illustrated by, recent events.
The native press of India will come again under notice in a future
chapter, connected with the precautionary measures adopted by the
governor-general to lessen the power of those news-writers, whether
English or native, who shewed a disposition to encourage rebellion by
their writings. News and rumours always work most actively among
credulous people—an important fact, knowing what we now know of India
and its Hindoo inhabitants.
When General Anson, commander-in-chief of the forces in India, found
that the small events at Dumdum, Berhampore, and Barrackpore had grown
into great importance, and that the cartridge grievance still appeared
to press on the consciences or influence the conduct of the sepoys, he
deemed it right to make an effort that should pacify the whole of the
native troops. Being at Umballa on the 19th of May, to which place he
had hastened from his sojourn at Simla, he issued a general order to the
native army, informing the troops that it had never been the intention
of the government to force them to use any cartridges which could be
objected to, and that they never would be required to do so. He
announced his object in publishing the order to be to allay the
excitement which had been raised in their minds, at the same time
expressing his conviction that there was no cause for this excitement.
He had been informed, he said, that some of the sepoys who entertained
the strongest attachment and loyalty to the government, and who were
ready at any moment to obey its orders, were nevertheless under an
impression that their families would believe them to be in some way
contaminated by the use of the cartridges used with the Enfield rifles
recently introduced in India. He expressed regret that the positive
assertions of the government officers, as to the non-existence of the
objectionable substances in the grease of the cartridges, had not been
credited by the sepoys. He solemnly assured the army, that no
interference with their caste-principles or their religion was ever
contemplated; and as solemnly pledged his word and honour that no such
interference should ever be attempted. He announced, therefore, that
whatever might be the opinions of the government concerning the
cartridges, new or old, he had determined that the new rifle-cartridge,
and every other of new form, should be discontinued: balled ammunition
being made up by each regiment for its own use, by a proper
establishment maintained for the purpose. Finally, he declared his full
confidence, ‘that all in the native army will now perform their duty,
free from anxiety or care, and be prepared to stand and shed the last
drop of their blood, as they had formerly done, by the side of the
British troops, and in defence of their country.’ The central government
at Calcutta, on receipt of the news of this order having been
promulgated, hastily sent to state that, in implying that new cartridges
_had_ been issued, the commander-in-chief had overstepped the actual
facts of the case; nothing new in that way had been introduced
throughout the year, except to the troops at the Depôt of Musketry
Instruction at Dumdum. From this fact it appears certain that the
credulity of the sepoys at the more distant stations had been imposed
upon, either by their fellow-Hindoos engaged in a conspiracy, or by
Mohammedans.
[Illustration:
Council-house at Calcutta.
]
In this chapter have been discussed several subjects which, though
strange, exhibit nothing terrible or cruel. The suspicions connected
with the Oude princes, the mystery of the chupatties, the prophecies of
British downfall, the objections to the greased cartridges, the
insubordination arising out of those objections, the incendiarism, the
inflammatory tendency of the native newspaper press—all were important
rather as symptoms, than for their immediate effects. But the month of
May, and the towns of Meerut and Delhi, will now introduce us to fearful
proceedings—the beginning of a series of tragedies.
-----
Footnote 6:
_Edinburgh Review_, No. 216.
[Illustration:
King’s Palace, Delhi.
]
CHAPTER III.
MEERUT, AND THE REBEL-FLIGHT TO DELHI.
The first week in May marked a crisis in the affairs of British India.
It will ever remain an insoluble problem, whether the hideous atrocities
that followed might have been prevented by any different policy at that
date. The complainings and the disobedience had already presented
themselves: the murders and mutilations had not yet commenced; and there
are those who believe that if a Lawrence instead of a Hewett had been at
Meerut, the last spark that ignited the inflammable materials might have
been arrested. But this is a kind of cheap wisdom, a prophecy after the
event, an easy mode of judgment, on which little reliance can be placed.
Taking the British officers in India as a body, it is certain that they
had not yet learned to distrust the sepoys, whom they regarded with much
professional admiration for their external qualifications. The Brahmins
of the Northwest Provinces—a most important constituent, as we have
seen, of the Bengal army—are among the finest men in the world; their
average height is at least two inches greater than that of the English
soldiers of the line regiments; and in symmetry they also take the lead.
They are unaddicted to drunkenness; they are courteous in demeanour, in
a degree quite beyond the English soldier; and it is now known that the
commanding officers, proud of the appearance of these men on parade, too
often ignored those moral qualities without which a good soldier is an
impossible production. Whether, when the disturbances became known, the
interpretation was favourable to the sepoys, depended much on the
peculiar bias in the judgment of each officer. Some believed that the
native soldier was docile, obedient, and loyal as long as his religious
prejudices were respected; that he was driven to absolute frenzy by the
slightest suspicion, whether well or ill grounded, of any interference
with his creed or his observances; that he had been gradually rendered
distrustful by the government policy of forbidding suttee and
infanticide, by the withholding of government contributions to Hindoo
temples and idol-ceremonies, by the authorities at Calcutta subscribing
to missionary societies, and lastly by the affair of the greased
cartridges; and that the sensibilities of Brahminism, thus vitally
outraged, prepared the native mind for the belief that we designed to
proceed by some stratagem or other to the utter and final abolition of
caste. This interpretation is wholly on the Hindoo side, and is
respectful rather than otherwise to the earnestness and honesty of the
Brahmins. Other officers, however, directed their attention at once to
the Mohammedan element in the army, and authoritatively pronounced that
the Hindoo sepoys were simply dupes and tools in the hands of the
Moslem. These interpreters said—We have superseded the Mohammedan power
in India; we have dethroned the descendants of the great Aurungzebe and
the greater Akbar; we have subjected the mogul’s lieutenants or nawabs
to our authority; we have lately extinguished the last remaining
monarchy in Northern India held by a son of the Faithful; we have
reduced a conquering and dominant race to a position of inferiority and
subserviency; and hence their undying resentment, their implacable
hatred, their resolute determination to try one more struggle for
supremacy, and their crafty employment of simple bigoted Hindoos as
worthy instruments when sufficiently excited by dark hints and bold
lies.
[Illustration:
PART OF
INDIA
Chief Scene of
THE MUTINIES OF 1857
W. & R. CHAMBERS LONDON & EDINBURGH
]
But there was one fact which all these officers admitted, when it was
too late to apply a remedy. Whether the Hindoo or the Mohammedan element
was most disturbed, all agreed that the British forces were ill placed
to cope with any difficulties arising out of a revolt. Doubt might be
entertained how far the disloyalty among the native troops would extend;
but there could be no doubt that European troops were scanty, just at
the places where most likely to be needed. There were somewhat over
twenty thousand Queen’s troops at the time in India, with a few others
on the way thither. Of these, as has been shewn in a former page, the
larger proportion was with the Bengal troops; but instead of being
distributed in the various Bengal and Oude provinces, they were rather
largely posted at two extreme points, certainly not less than two
thousand miles apart—on the Afghan frontier of the Punjaub, and on the
Burmese frontier of Pegu. Four regiments of the Queen’s army were
guarding the newly annexed country of the Punjaub, while three others
were similarly holding the recent conquests in Pegu. What was the
consequence, in relation to the twelve hundred miles between Calcutta
and the Sutlej? An almost complete denudation of European troops: a
surrendering of most of the strongholds to the mercy of the sepoys. Only
one European regiment at Lucknow, and none other in the whole of Oude;
two at Meerut, one at Agra, one at Dinapoor, and one at Calcutta—none at
Cawnpore or Allahabad. The two great native capitals of India—Delhi, of
the Mohammedans: Benares, of the Hindoos—had not one European regiment
in them. Indeed, earlier in the year, Calcutta itself had none; but the
authorities, as narrated in the last chapter, became so uneasy at the
thought of being without European supporters at the seat of government,
that they sent to Rangoon in Pegu for one of the Queen’s regiments, and
did not venture upon the Barrackpore disbandments until this regiment
had arrived. The lieutenant-governor of the Northwest Provinces,
comprising Delhi and the surrounding regions, had in his whole
government only three European regiments, and a sepoy army, soon found
to be faithless. Oude had a considerable native force; but Bengal proper
had very few troops of any kind. In short, the Company’s forces were
almost as unfavourably distributed as they could possibly be, to stem
the Revolt at its beginning; and there may not be much hazard in
assuming that the natives were as well acquainted with this fact as the
British.
The reader will find it useful to bear in mind, that the unfavourable
symptoms during the first four months of the year did not present
themselves in those districts which were afterwards associated with such
terrible deeds. Meerut and Delhi, Dinapoor and Ghazeepore, Benares and
Allahabad, Cawnpore and Lucknow, Mirzapore and Agra—these were not in
open disaffection during the period under notice, however much the
elements for a storm may have been gathering. It was at Dumdum,
Barrackpore, and Berhampore, on the Hoogly branch of the Lower
Ganges—and at Umballa near the Sutlej, separated from them by more than
a thousand miles—that the insubordination was chiefly shewn. Now,
however, the scene shifts to the Jumna and the Upper Ganges—with which
it will be well to become familiar by means of maps. Especially must the
positions of Meerut and Delhi be attended to, in relation to the events
detailed in this and the next following chapters.
Meerut, as a district, is a part of the Doab or delta enclosed between
the rivers Ganges and Jumna; but it is Meerut the town with which this
narrative is concerned. It came into the possession of the British in
1836, and is now included in the territories of Northwest Bengal. The
town, standing on the small river Kalee Nuddee, is about equidistant
from the Ganges and the Jumna, twenty-five or thirty miles from each,
and nearly nine hundred miles from Calcutta. Meerut is interesting to
the Indian antiquary in possessing some good architectural remains of
mosques and pagodas; and to the European residents, in possessing one of
the largest and finest Christian churches in India, capable of
accommodating three thousand persons, and provided with a good organ;
but the houses of the natives are wretchedly built, and the streets
narrow and dirty, as in most oriental towns. It is as a military
station, however, that Meerut is most important. The cantonment is two
miles north of the town, and is divided into two portions by a small
branch of the river, over which two bridges have been thrown. The
northern half of the cantonment contains lines for the accommodation of
a brigade of horse-artillery, a European cavalry corps, and a regiment
of European infantry—separated respectively by intervals of several
hundred yards. In front of these is a fine parade-ground, a mile in
width and four miles in length, having ample space for field-battery
practice and the manœuvres of horse-artillery; with a heavy battery on
the extreme right. Overlooking the parade are the barracks, with
stables, hospitals, riding-schools, canteens, and other military
offices. The barracks consist of a series of separate brick-built
low-roofed structures, each comprising one large and lofty room,
surrounded by a spacious enclosed verandah, divided into apartments for
the non-commissioned officers and the families of married men. Behind
the barracks, in a continued line three deep, are the bungalows or
lodges of the officers, each surrounded by a garden about a hundred
yards square. The opposite or southern half of the cantonment is mainly
occupied by the huts (not barracks) for native troops, and by the
detached bungalows for the officers who command them. This description,
applicable in some degree to many parts of India, may assist in
conveying an idea of the manner in which the European officers have
usually been lodged at the cantonments—in detached bungalows at no great
distance from the huts of the native troops: it may render a little more
intelligible some of the details of the fearful tragedies about to be
narrated. Before the Revolt, it was customary to keep at Meerut a
regiment of European cavalry, a regiment of European infantry, one of
native cavalry, and three of native infantry, besides horse and foot
artillery. The station is a particularly healthy one; and, both
politically and geographically, is an important place to the British
rulers of India.
Meerut, in some respects, was one of the last towns in which the mutiny
might have been expected to commence; for there was no other place in
the Northwest Provinces containing at the time so many English troops.
There were the 60th (Rifle) regiment, 1000 strong; the 6th Dragoon
Guards or Carabineers, 600 strong (but not fully mounted); a troop of
horse-artillery; and 500 artillery recruits—altogether about 2200 men,
with a full complement of officers. The native troops were but little
more numerous: comprising the 3d Bengal cavalry, and the 11th and 20th
Bengal infantry. In such a relative state of the European and native
forces, no one for an instant would have admitted the probability of a
revolt being successful at such a time and place.
Although it was not until the second week in May that those events took
place which carried grief and mourning into so many families, Meerut
began its troubles in the latter part of the preceding month. The troops
at this station had not been inattentive to the events transpiring in
Lower Bengal; they knew all the rumours concerning the greased
cartridges; they had been duped into a belief in the truth of those
rumours; and, moreover, emissaries had been at work among them,
instilling into their minds another preposterous notion—that the
government had plotted to take away their caste and insult their
religion, by causing the pulverised bones of bullocks to be mixed up
with the flour sold in the public markets or bazaars. Major-general
Hewett, commanding the military division of which Meerut was the chief
station, sought by every means to eradicate from the minds of the men
these absurd and pernicious ideas; he pointed out how little the
government had to gain by such a course, how contrary it would be to the
policy adopted during a hundred years, and how improbable was the whole
rumour. He failed, however, in his appeal to the good sense of the men;
and equally did the European officers of the native regiments fail: the
sepoys or infantry, the sowars or cavalry, alike continued in a
distrustful and suspicious state. Many British officers accustomed to
Indian troops aver that these men had been rendered more insubordinate
than ever by the leniency of the proceedings at Barrackpore and
Berhampore; that disbandment was not a sufficiently severe punishment
for the offences committed at those places; that the delay in the
disbanding was injurious, as denoting irresolution on the part of the
authorities at Calcutta; and that the native troops in other places had
begun to imbibe an opinion that the government were afraid of them. But
whatever be the amount of truth in this mode of interpretation, certain
it is that the troops at Meerut evinced a mutinous spirit that caused
great uneasiness to their commanders. Bungalows and houses were set on
fire, no one knew by whom; officers were not saluted as had been their
wont; and whispers went about that the men intended to adopt a bold
course in reference to the greased cartridges.
The military authorities on the spot resolved to put this matter to the
test. On the 23d of April, Colonel Smyth, the English commander of the
3d regiment of native Bengal cavalry, ordered a parade of the
skirmishers of his regiment with carabines on the following morning, to
shew them the newly introduced mode of adjusting their cartridges
without biting, hoping and believing that they would be gratified by
this indication of the willingness of the government to consult their
feelings in the matter. He caused the havildar-major and the
havildar-major’s orderly to come to his house, to shew them how it was
to be done; and the orderly fired off a carabine under the new system.
At night, however, uneasiness was occasioned by the burning down of the
orderly’s tent, and of a horse-hospital close to the magazine. Although
this act of incendiarism looked ominous, the colonel nevertheless
determined to carry out his object on the morrow. Accordingly, on the
morning of the 24th, the troops assembled on parade; and the
havildar-major fired off one cartridge to shew them how it was to be
done. The men demurred, however, to the reception of the cartridges,
though the same in kind as had been used by them during a long period,
and _not_ the new cartridges. An investigation ensued, which was
conducted on the 25th by Major Harrison, deputy-judge advocate. On being
examined, the men admitted that they could discern nothing impure in the
composition or glazing of the paper; but added that they had _heard_ it
was unclean, and believed it to be so. The inquiry, after a few
conciliatory observations on the part of the judge, ended in the men
expressing contrition for their obstinacy, and promising a ready
obedience in the use of the cartridges whenever called upon.
A hope was now entertained that the difficulties had been smoothed away;
but this hope proved to be fallacious. Major-general Hewett, wishing to
put an end to the stupid prejudice, and to settle at once all doubts as
to the obedience of the men, ordered a parade of the 3d cavalry for the
morning of the 6th of May. On the evening of the 5th, preparatory to the
parade, cartridges were given out to the men, the same in quality as
those which had been freely in use during many years. Eighty-five of the
sowars or troopers—either still incredulous on the grease-question, or
resolved to mutiny whether with just cause or not—positively refused to
receive the cartridges. This conduct, of course, could not be
overlooked; the men were taken into custody, and tried by a
court-martial; they were found guilty of a grave military offence, and
were committed to imprisonment with hard labour, for periods varying
from six to ten years. The governor-general, seeing the necessity of
promptitude at this crisis, had just sent orders to the military
stations that the judgments of all court-martials should be put in force
instantly, as a means of impressing the troops with the seriousness of
their position; and Major-general Hewett, acting on these instructions,
proceeded on the 9th to enforce the sentence of the court-martial. A
European guard of 60th Rifles and Carabiniers was placed over the
convicted men; and at daybreak the whole military force at the station
was assembled on the rifle parade-ground. All were there—the European
60th, Carabiniers, and artillery—the native 3d, 11th, and 20th. The
European cannon, carbines, and rifles were loaded, to prepare for any
emergency. The eighty-five mutineers of the 3d native cavalry were
marched upon the ground; they were stripped of their uniforms and
accoutrements; they were shackled with irons riveted on by the
armourers. While this was being done, very meaning looks were exchanged
between the culprits and the other sowars of the same regiment—the
former looking reproachfully at the latter, while the latter appeared
gloomy and crestfallen: it was evident that the unconvicted men had
promised to resist and prevent the infliction of the degrading
punishment on their convicted associates; but it was equally evident
that the presence of so many armed European troops would have rendered
any attempt at rescue worse than useless. The manacles having been
adjusted, the men were marched off to jail. And herein a grave mistake
appears to have been committed. Instead of keeping a watchful eye over
these men at such a perilous time, and retaining them under a guard of
European troops until the excitement had blown over, they were sent to
the common jail of Meerut, two miles distant from the cantonment, and
there handed over to the police or ordinary civil power of the town. How
disastrous was the result of this course of proceeding, we shall
presently see. The native troops, when the culprits had been removed
from the parade-ground, returned to their lines furious with
indignation—at least the 3d cavalry were so, and they gradually brought
over the infantry to share in their indignant feelings. It was a
degrading punishment, unquestionably: whether the remainder of the
native troops at the station would be terrified or exasperated by it,
was just the problem which remained to be solved. All the afternoon and
evening of that day were the men brooding and whispering, plotting and
planning. Unfortunately, the European officers of native regiments were
accustomed to mix so seldom with their men, that they knew little of
what occurred except on parade-ground: this plotting was only known by
its fruits. Judged by subsequent events, it appears probable that the
native troops sent emissaries to Delhi, forty miles distant, to announce
what had occurred, and to plan an open revolt. The prime plotters were
the 3d; the 20th were nearly as eager; but the 11th, newly arrived at
Meerut, held back for some time, although they did not betray the rest.
Little did the European inhabitants, their wives and their children, at
Meerut, dream what was in store for them on Sunday the 10th of May—a day
of peace in the eyes of Christians. It was on the 9th that the sentence
of the court-martial on the eighty-five mutineers was enforced: it was
on the 10th that the Revolt, in its larger sense, began. Whether these
two events stood to each other in the relation of cause and effect, is a
question not easily to be answered; but it may safely be asserted that
the Revolt would not have resulted from the punishment unless the men
had been generally in a state of disaffection. The Sunday opened as most
Sundays open in India, quiet and uneventful, and remained so till
evening. Ladies and families were then going to evening-service at the
church. Some of them passed the mess-room of the 3d cavalry, and there
saw servants looking towards the road leading to the native infantry
lines. Something was evidently wrong. On inquiry it appeared that a
mutiny had broken out, and that fighting was going on in the bazaar.
Crowds of armed men soon hurried that way; and families who had been on
the route to church, drove or walked back in haste to escape danger. So
it was on all sides: whoever on that evening ventured forth, found that
blood-shedding instead of church-service would fill their thoughts. The
Rev. Mr Smyth, chaplain of Meerut, while driving to church for the seven
o’clock service, met two of the 60th Rifles covered with blood; and on
reaching the church, he saw buggies and carriages driving away in great
confusion, and a body of people pointing to a column of fire and smoke
in the direction of the city: frequent shots were heard, amid the cries
of a large mob. In another direction the wife of an officer in the 3d
cavalry, going like other Europeans to church, and startled like them by
sounds of violence, saw a private of the Carabiniers unarmed, and
running for very life from several men armed with _latthies_ or long
sticks: she stopped her carriage and took in the English soldier; but
the men continued to strike at him until the vehicle rolled away. This
lady, on reaching her bungalow in haste and dismay, was the first to
give notice to her husband that something was wrong among the native
troops: he instantly started off on foot to the lines, without waiting
for his horse. In another part of the scene, an English officer of the
11th native infantry, at about six o’clock on that evening, while in his
bungalow preparing for a ride with Colonel Finnis of the same regiment,
had his attention attracted to his servants, and those in the bungalows
of other officers, going down towards the front of the several compounds
or gardens, and looking steadily into the lines or cantonment of the
regiment. He heard a buzzing, murmuring noise, which at first he deemed
of no consequence; but as it continued and increased, he hastily
finished dressing and went out. Scarcely had he reached his gate, when
he heard the sound of firearms, which his practised ear at once told him
were loaded with ball-cartridge. An European non-commissioned officer
came running towards him, with others, and exclaimed: ‘For God’s sake,
sir, leave! Return to your bungalow, change that dress, and fly!’
Shortly afterwards shots came into his own compound; and the
havildar-major of the 11th, rushing terrified and breathless into the
bungalow, exclaimed: ‘Fly, sahib—fly at once! the regiments are in open
mutiny, and firing on their officers; and Colonel Finnis has just been
shot in my arms!’ The officer mounted and started off—at first
leisurely—because ‘a Briton does not like actually running away under
any circumstances;’ but when the havildar-major (native sergeant-major)
advised him to gallop off to the European cavalry lines, he saw that the
suggestion was good; and he immediately started—over a rugged and barren
plain, cut up by nullahs and ravines—towards the lines of the Queen’s
Carabiniers.
When these, and a dozen similar mysteries, came to receive their
solution, it was found that a mutiny had indeed broken out. Shortly
before five o’clock on that Sunday afternoon, the men of the 3d native
cavalry, and of the 20th native infantry, rushed out of their lines on a
given signal, and proceeded to the lines of the 11th native infantry,
all fully armed. After a little hesitation, their comrades joined them;
and then all three regiments proceeded to open acts of violence. Colonel
Finnis of the 11th, the moment he heard of this startling proceeding,
rode to the parade-ground, harangued the men, and endeavoured to induce
them to return to their duty. Instead of listening to him, the men of
the 20th fired a volley, and he fell, riddled with bullets—the first
victim of the Indian Revolt. The other officers present, feeling that
their remaining longer on the ground would effect no good, escaped.
Whether a daring man might have stemmed the torrent, cannot now be told:
no one attempted it after Finnis’s death; his brother-officers were
allowed to escape to the lines of the artillery and the Carabiniers, on
the other side of the encampment. So far as the accounts are
intelligible, the first shots appear to have been fired by the 20th, the
11th joining afterwards in the violence.
While the infantry were thus engaged, the ominous but natural step was
taken by the 3d cavalry of releasing their eighty-five imprisoned
companions—ominous, because those men, enraged at their incarceration,
would join in the disorder with heated blood and excited passions. The
troopers proceeded to the jail, set their companions free, armed them,
and invited them to share in the mutiny. All this was evidently
preconcerted; for native smiths were at hand to strike off the manacles.
Yelling and threatening, the whole returned to the lines; and then
commenced the direful mischief. Within a very short time, all three
regiments became busily engaged in burning and murdering. But this was
not all; when the eighty-five troopers were liberated, the other
prisoners in the jail, _twelve hundred_ in number, were set at liberty
at the same time; and then the scum of Indian society entered into the
scenes of violence with demoniac relish, adding tenfold to the horrors
perpetrated by the sepoys and sowars. The mutineers and the ruffians set
fire to nearly all the bungalows of the native lines, and to the
government establishments near at hand, murdering, as they went, the
Europeans who fell in their way. The bungalows being mostly thatched
with straw, the destruction was very rapid; the cowardly assailants,
setting fire to the thatch, waited till the flames had driven out the
inmates of the bungalow, and then fell upon them as assassins. The
conflagrations were accompanied by the yells of the rioters and the
shrieks of the sufferers, rendered more terrible by the approach of
darkness. The rabble of the bazaar, and the lowest portion of the
population generally, as if intoxicated by release from the dread of
Europeans, now joined the mutineers and the released felons, and the
horrors thickened. On all sides shot up columns of flame and smoke; on
all sides were heard the shouts and curses of some, the cries and
lamentations of others. One redeeming feature—there may have been
others—marked these proceedings; the sepoys of the 11th, in most
instances, connived at the escape of their officers—nay, strove
earnestly to save them: it was not by men of his own regiment that poor
Colonel Finnis had been shot down.
A few individual examples, drawn from the simple but painful narratives
of eye-witnesses, will shew in what way misery and death were brought
into homes where the peace of a Christian Sabbath had reigned only a few
hours before.
The Rev. Mr Smyth, after returning hurriedly from the church where he
had intended to perform divine service, took shelter in the house of an
officer of the artillery in the English lines. Shots had just before
been aimed at that officer and his wife by eight or ten sepoys of the
artillery depôt or school, while standing at the very gate of their
compound; and yet Mr Smyth himself was saluted respectfully by several
sepoys during his hurried retreat—shewing the strange mixture of
deference and ferocity exhibited by these misguided men. Presently
afterwards another shot was heard, a horse was seen galloping past with
a buggy; and it was soon found that the surgeon and the veterinary
surgeon of the 3d cavalry had been wounded and mutilated. The clergyman
escaped unhurt, to learn and to mourn over the events transpiring in
other parts of the town and cantonment.
A captain of horse, the husband of the lady mentioned in a former
paragraph, hastened on the first news from his bungalow to the lines of
the 3d cavalry, in which he commanded a troop. He was respected by his
men, who offered him no hurt, and who seemed to hesitate for a time
whether to join the rest in mutiny or not. Soon, however, the mania
infected them; and the captain, seeing the jail opened and the prisoners
liberated, hastened back. The road from the town to the cantonment was
in an uproar; the infantry and the bazaar-people were in crowds, armed
and firing; and he saw one of the miscreant troopers stab to death an
Englishwoman, the wife of the Meerut hotel-keeper, as she passed. Soon a
ball whizzed past his own car, and he saw one of his own troopers aiming
at him; he shouted: ‘Was that meant for me?’ ‘Yes,’ was the reply; ‘I
will have your blood!’ The captain detected this man as one whom he had
been obliged to punish for carelessness and disobedience. The man fired
again, but again missed his aim; and although the other troopers did not
join in this, they made no attempt to check or seize the assailant. The
captain, abandoned gradually by all but a very few troopers, at length
reached the European lines, where he took part in the proceedings
afterwards adopted. Meanwhile the poor wife had passed two hours of
terrible suspense. Believing at first that the carabinier whom she had
saved might have been the main object of attack, she hid his uniform,
dressed him in a coat of her husband’s, and bade him sit with herself
and family, for mutual safety. Out of doors she heard shots and shouts,
and saw houses burning. In the next bungalow, speedily fired, was the
wife of an adjutant lately arrived from England; she was entreated to
come over for shelter, but not arriving, servants were sent in to seek
her. A horrid sight met them: the hapless lady lay on the floor in a
pool of blood, dead, and mutilated in a way that the pen refuses to
describe. The noises and flames increased; eight or ten flaming
bungalows were in sight at once; and many a struggle took place between
the captain’s servants and the mutineers, during which it was quite
uncertain whether one more burning, one more massacre, would ensue.
Troopers rushed into the bungalow, endeavouring to fire it; while
others, with a lingering affection towards the family of their officer,
prevented them. The husband arrived, in speechless agony concerning the
safety of those dear to him. Wrapped in black stable-blankets, to hide
their light dresses, all left the house amid a glare of flame from
neighbouring buildings, and hid under trees in the garden; whence they
sped to a small ruin near at hand, where, throughout the remainder of
the night, they crouched listening to the noises without. Bands of armed
men passed in and out of the bungalow compound during the night, and
were only prevented from prosecuting a search, by an assurance from the
domestics that the officer’s family had effected their escape. When
morning came, the (now) houseless Europeans, with about twenty troopers
who remained faithful to the last—though agitated by strange waverings
and irresolution—left the place, taking with them such few clothes and
trinkets as could be hastily collected, and started off for the
Carabiniers’ lines, passing on their way the smouldering ruins of many
bungalows and public buildings.
Howsoever the narratives might vary in details, in substance they were
all alike; they spoke of a night of burning, slaughter, and dismay.
Wherever there was a bungalow, the European inhabitants of which did not
succeed in escaping to the English lines, there was murder perpetrated.
The escape of Mr Greathed, civil commissioner for Meerut, was a narrow
one. His house—flat-roofed, as it fortunately happened—was one of the
first attacked by the mutineers: at the first alarm, Mr and Mrs Greathed
fled to the roof; thither, on the least intimation from any of the
servants, the miscreants would have followed them; but the servants
persisted that the family had departed; and the assailants, after
searching every room in the house, took their departure. One officer
after another, as he rushed from his bungalow to call his men back to
their allegiance, was shot down; and wherever the mutineers and their
ruffian companions brought murder into a house, they mingled with the
murder a degree of barbarity quite appalling and unexpected. There were
a few Europeans in the town and vicinity not connected with the military
department; and these, unless they effected their escape, were treated
like the rest; rank, age, and sex were equally disregarded—or, if sex
made any difference, women, gentle English women, were treated more
ruthlessly than men. An officer of the 20th, living in his bungalow with
his wife and two children, was sought out by the ruffians: the father
and mother were killed; but a faithful ayah snatched up the two children
and carried them off to a place of safety—the poor innocents never again
saw their parents alive. An English sergeant was living with his wife
and six children beyond the limits of the cantonment; he and three of
his little ones were massacred in a way that must for very shame be left
untold: the mother, with the other three, all bleeding and mutilated,
managed to crawl to the European lines about midnight.
With what inexpressible astonishment were the narratives of these deeds
heard and perused! Men who had been in India, or were familiar with
Indian affairs, knew that the sepoys had before risen in mutiny, and had
shot their officers; but it was something strange to them, a terrible
novelty, that tender women and little children—injuring none, and
throwing a halo of refinement around all—should be so vilely treated as
to render death a relief. The contrast to all that was considered
characteristic of the Hindoo was so great, that to this day it remains
to many an Indian veteran a horrid enigma—a mystery insoluble even if
his heart-sickness would lead him to the attempt. Be it remembered that
for a whole century the natives had been largely trusted in the
relations of social life; and had well justified that trust. Many an
English lady (it has been observed by an eloquent reviewer, whose words
we have before quoted) has travelled from one end of the country to the
other—along desert roads, through thick jungles, or on vast solitary
rivers—miles and miles away from the companionship of white men, without
the slightest anxiety. Her native servants, Mohammedans and Hindoos,
were her protectors; and she was as safe in such custody as in an
English home. Her slightest caprice was as a law to her attendants.
These swarthy bearded men, ready at her beck, ever treated her with the
most delicate respect, ever appeared to bear about with them a
chivalrous sense of the sacredness of their charge. Not a word or a
gesture ever alarmed her modesty or excited her fear; and her husband,
father, brother never hesitated to confide her to such guardianship. It
was in the year 1857 that the charm of this delicate fidelity was first
broken; and broken so appallingly, that men were long incredulous that
such things could be.
But the children, the sabred and mangled little ones—that these could be
so treated by the same natives, was more astounding to the Anglo-Indians
than even the treatment of the women. ‘Few of our countrymen have ever
returned from India without deploring the loss of their native servants.
In the nursery they are, perhaps, more missed than in any other part of
the establishment. There are, doubtless, hundreds of English parents in
this country who remember with feelings of kindliness and gratitude the
_nusery_ bearers, or male nurses, who attended their children. The
patience, the gentleness, the tenderness with which these white-robed
swarthy Indians attend the little children of their European masters,
surpass even the love of women. You may see them sitting for hour after
hour, with their little infantine charges, amusing them with toys,
fanning them when they slumber, brushing away the flies, or pacing the
verandah with the little ones in their arms, droning the low monotonous
lullaby which charms them to sleep; and all this without a shadow on the
brow, without a gesture of impatience, without a single petulant word.
No matter how peevish, how wayward, how unreasonable, how exacting the
child may be, the native bearer only smiles, shews his white teeth, or
shakes his black locks, giving back a word of endearment in reply to
young master’s imperious discontent. In the sick-room, doubly gentle and
doubly patient, his noiseless ministrations are continued through long
days, often through long nights, as though hunger and weariness were
human frailties to be cast off at such a time. It is little to say that
these poor hirelings often love their master’s children with greater
tenderness than their own. Parted from their little charges, they may
often be seen weeping like children themselves; and have been known, in
after-years, to travel hundreds of miles to see the brave young ensign
or the blooming maiden whom they once dandled in their arms.’ These men,
it is true, were domestic servants, not sepoys or soldiers fighting in
the army of the Company; but it is equally true that the British
officers, almost without exception, trusted implicitly to the sepoys who
acted as orderlies or servants to them; and that those orderlies shewed
themselves worthy of the trust, by their scrupulous respect to the
ladies of each household, and their tender affection for the little ones
born under the roof of the bungalow. Hence the mingled wonderment and
grief when fiend-like cruelties suddenly destroyed the charm of this
reliance.
Allowing the veil to remain, at present, drawn over still greater
horrors in other places, it must be admitted that the principal
atrocities at Meerut were perpetrated by the twelve hundred miscreants
liberated from the jail, aided by the general rabble of the town. The
native troops had something in their thoughts besides firing bungalows
and murdering a few Europeans; they had arranged some sort of plot with
the native troops of Delhi; and they set out in a body for that city
long before the deplorable transactions at Meerut had ceased. Those
scenes continued more or less throughout the night; officers and their
wives, parents and their children, were not relieved from the agony of
suspense before morning broke.
[Illustration:
Laboratory at Meerut.
]
The number massacred at Meerut on this evening and night was not so
large as the excited feelings of the survivors led them to imply; but it
was large to them; for it told of a whole cluster of happy homes
suddenly broken up, of bungalows reduced to ashes, of bleeding corpses
brought in one by one, of children rendered fatherless, of property
consumed, of hopes blasted, of confidence destroyed. The European
soldiers, as will presently be seen, soon obtained the mastery so far as
Meerut was concerned; but the surviving women and children had still
many hours, many days, of discomfort and misery to bear. The School of
Instruction near the artillery laboratory became the place of shelter
for most of them; and this place was much crowded. How mournfully does
it tell of large families rendered homeless to read thus: ‘We are in a
small house at one end of the place, which consists of one large room
and verandah rooms all round; and in this miserable shed—for we can
scarcely call it anything else—there are no less than forty-one
souls’—then are named thirteen members of one family, ten of another,
three other families of four each, and two others of three each—‘besides
having in our verandah room the post-office, and arranging at present a
small room adjoining the post-office as the telegraph-office.’ Some of
the houseless officers and their families found temporary homes in the
sergeants’ rooms of the European lines; space was found for all,
although amid much confusion; and one of the refugees writes of ‘a crowd
of helpless babies’ that added to the misery of the scene. Adverting to
others like herself, she remarks: ‘Ladies who were mere formal
acquaintances now wring each other’s hands with intense sympathy; what a
look there was when we first assembled here!—all of us had stared death
in the face.’
Let us turn now to a question which has probably presented itself more
than once to the mind of the reader during the perusal of these sad
details—What were the twenty-two hundred European troops doing while the
three native regiments were imbuing their hands in the blood of innocent
women and children? Could not they have intervened to prevent the
atrocities? It must be borne in mind that these fine English troops, the
Carabiniers and 60th Rifles, with artillery, were nearly equal in number
to the rebels; and that, if quickly moved, they would have been a match
for five or ten times their number. Whether or not they _were_ quickly
moved, is just the question at issue. Major-general Hewett’s dispatch to
the adjutant-general thus describes the course adopted as soon as the
outbreak became known to him: ‘The artillery, Carabiniers, and 60th
Rifles were got under arms; but by the time we reached the native
infantry parade-ground, it was too dark to act with efficiency in that
direction; consequently, the troops retired to the north of the nullah,
so as to cover the barracks and officers’ lines of the artillery,
Carabiniers, and 60th Rifles; which were, with the exception of one
house, preserved; though the insurgents—for I believe the mutineers had
by that time retired by the Allygurh and Delhi roads—burned the vacant
Sapper and Miner lines.’
One thing is quite certain—the mutineers were not pursued: they were
allowed to go to Delhi, there to raise the standard of rebellion in a
still more alarming way. The Carabiniers, it is true, were deficient in
horses to join in pursuit; but this might assuredly have been obviated
by precautionary arrangements during the many days on which the 3d
native cavalry had shewn symptoms of insubordination. An officer of the
11th native infantry, who narrowly escaped death in his gallop to the
European cantonment, accompanied the Queen’s regiments to the scene of
anarchy; but there is evidence that he considered the movements somewhat
tardy. ‘It took us a long time, in my opinion,’ he says, ‘to get ready,
and it was dark before the Carabiniers were prepared to start in a
body.’ In the latitude of Meerut, we may remark, in the second week in
May, darkness can hardly come on until near seven o’clock, whereas the
outbreak occurred two hours earlier. He continues: ‘When the Carabiniers
were mounted, we rode off at a brisk trot, through clouds of suffocating
dust, and darkness, in an easterly direction, and along a narrow
road—_not advancing in the direction of the conflagration_, but, on the
contrary, leaving it behind on our right rear. In this way we proceeded
for some two or three miles, to my no small surprise, when suddenly the
“halt” was sounded, and we faced about, retracing our steps, and verging
off to our left. Approaching the conflagration, we debouched on the left
rear of the native infantry lines, which of course were all in a blaze.
Skirting along behind these lines, we turned them at the western end,
and wheeling up to the left, came upon the 11th parade-ground, where, at
a little distance, we found the horse-artillery and her Majesty’s 60th
Rifles. It appears that the three regiments of mutineers had by this
time commenced dropping off to the westward to the Delhi road, for here
some firing took place between them and the Rifles; and presently the
horse-artillery, coming to the front and unlimbering, opened upon a
copse or wood in which they had apparently found cover, with heavy
discharges of grape and canister, which rattled among the trees; and all
was silent again. The horse-artillery now limbered up again, and wheeled
round; and here I joined them, having lost the Carabiniers in the
darkness. By this time, however, the moon arose. The horse-artillery
column, with Rifles at its head, moving across the parade-ground, we
entered the long street turning from the southward behind the light
cavalry lines. There it was that the extent and particulars of the
conflagration first became visible; and, passing the burning bungalow of
the adjutant of the 11th native infantry, we proceeded along the
straight road or street, flanked on both sides with flaming and crashing
houses in all stages of combustion and ruin; the Rifles occasionally
firing volleys as we proceeded. It was by this time past ten o’clock;
and having made the entire circuit of the lines, we passed up to the
east of them, and, joined by the Carabiniers and Rifles, bivouacked for
the night.’
Collating various accounts of this evening’s events, it becomes evident
that the military movements of the Europeans were anything but prompt.
Even if the two regiments and the artillery could not have reached the
scene of tumult before dark—a supposition not at all borne out—still it
seems strange that all should have ‘bivouacked for the night’ at the
very time when three mutinous native regiments were on the way to Delhi.
Hasty critics, as is usual in such circumstances, at once condemned the
military commander at Meerut; and an ex-governor-general, dwelling, in
his place in the House of Lords, on the occurrences in India, spoke in a
contemptuous tone of ‘an unknown man named Hewett’ as one whose
misconduct had allowed the rebel troops to escape from Meerut to Delhi.
It was hard for a soldier who had served for forty years in India,
without once returning to his native country, to find contumely thus
hurled at him; it is one of the bitter things to which public men are
subjected, not only from anonymous writers, but from other public men
whose names carry authority with them. A near relation of the
major-general afterwards took up his defence, urging that it might have
been unwise policy to send the only European troops in pursuit to Delhi,
at a time when the magazines and stores at Meerut required so much
attention. The defence may possibly be insufficient; but the history of
the Crimean war had shewn how hastily Lord Raglan had been accused of
offences, things committed and things omitted, for which he was
afterwards known not to have been responsible; and this experience ought
to have suggested caution to assailants, especially remembering how long
a time must often elapse between an accusation and a refutation, during
which time the wound is festering. Declining years certainly did not
prevent the officer whose name is now under notice from taking a part in
the operations, such as they were, of the English troops at Meerut;
although in his sixty-eighth year, he slept on the ground among the
guns, like his men, on the 10th of May, and for fourteen consecutive
nights he did the same; while for many following weeks he never doffed
his regimentals, except for change of apparel, night or day. Whether
such details are trivial or not, depends on the nature of the
accusations. It is only the hasty judgments of those at a distance that
are here commented on; the dissatisfaction of the Calcutta authorities
will be adverted to in a future page.
The sympathies of the Europeans at Meerut were drawn in a forcible way
towards the inmates of a convent and school at Sirdhana—an establishment
remarkable as existing in that part of India. We must go back sixty
years to understand this. Towards the close of the last century, there
was a Cashmerian bayadère or dancing-girl, who became associated with a
German adventurer, and then, by a course of unscrupulous intrigue and
fearless sanguinary measures, obtained possession of three considerable
jaghires or principalities in the region around and between Meerut and
Delhi. These cities, as well as Agra and others in the Doab, were at
that time in the hands of the great Mahratta chief, Dowlut Rao Scindia.
After a series of brilliant victories, the British obtained possession
of the Doab in 1803, but awarded a petty sovereignty to the female
adventurer, who became thenceforth known as the Begum Sumroo. She
retained her queendom until her death in 1836, after which the three
jaghires passed into the hands of the British. This remarkable woman,
during the later years of her life, professed the Roman Catholic faith;
she had a spacious and handsome palace at Sirdhana, about twelve miles
from Meerut; and near it she built a Catholic church, imitative on a
small scale of St Peter’s at Rome, with a beautiful altar inlaid with
mosaics and precious stones. Out of twelve thousand inhabitants in
Sirdhana, about one-tenth now profess themselves Christians, having
imitated the begum in her change of religion; and there is a Christian
convent there, containing a number of priests, nuns, and pupils. When,
therefore, the outrages occurred at Meerut, apprehensions naturally
arose concerning the fate of the European women and girls at this
convent. About five days after the Revolt commenced, rumours came in
that the inmates of the convent at Sirdhana were in peril; and it was
only by great exertions that the postmaster at Meerut was enabled to
bring some of them away. A letter written in reference to this
proceeding said: ‘The poor nuns begged of him, when he was coming away,
to try and send them some help; he tried all he could to get a guard to
escort them to this station, but did not succeed; and yesterday morning
(16th of May), having given up the idea of procuring a guard from the
military authorities, he went round, and by speaking to some gentlemen,
got about fifteen persons to volunteer their services, to go and rescue
the poor nuns and children from Sirdhana; and I am happy to say they
succeeded in their charitable errand without any one having been
injured.’
It will be remembered that, during the burnings and murderings at Meerut
on the evening of the 10th, most of the mutineers of the three regiments
started off to Delhi. They took, as was afterwards found, the high road
from Meerut, and passing the villages of Begumabad, Moradnuggur,
Furrucknuggur, and Shahderuh, reached Delhi early on Monday; the
infantry making forced marches, and the cavalry riding near them for
support. Proof was soon afforded that the native troops in that city, or
some of them, had been waiting for the mutineers, prepared to join them
in an organised attack on the Europeans. What aspect that attack put on,
and what were the calamities to which it gave rise, will be narrated in
the next two chapters.
Many days elapsed before Meerut recovered its tranquillity. Such men of
the 3d, 11th, and 20th regiments as remained faithful—especially the
11th, of whom there were more than a hundred—were received at the
cantonment, and their previous insubordination pardoned on account of
their subsequent fidelity; but still there were many causes for anxiety.
In the major-general’s first report on the disasters, he said: ‘Nearly
the whole of the cantonment and Zillah police have deserted.’ These
police or watchmen are referred to by an officer familiar with the
district, who says: ‘Round about Meerut and Delhi there are two or three
peculiar castes or tribes, something similar to our gipsies, only
holding human life at less value, and which in former days gave constant
trouble. Of late years, they have lived in more peace and quietness,
contenting themselves with picking up stray cattle and things that did
not belong to them. They have now, however, on the earliest occasion
broken out again, and have been guilty of all kinds of depredations.
Skinner’s Horse was originally raised to keep these people in order,
about the time of Lord Lake; such men have hitherto been necessary at
Meerut, Delhi, and those parts, as watchmen; every one was obliged to
keep one, to avoid being robbed to a certainty.’ The Meerut inhabitants
had thus, in addition to their other troubles, the knowledge that gangs
of desperadoes would be likely to acquire renewed audacity through the
defection of the native police.
It was soon ascertained that the dâk communications on many of the roads
were cut off, and the military commandant found much difficulty in
transmitting intelligence to the seat of government. Five days after the
great outbreak, another cause of uneasiness ensued. Six companies of
native Sappers and Miners arrived at Meerut from Roorkee, under their
commander, Major Fraser. The place here named is interesting in a
twofold point of view. Being situated in one of the most elevated sites
in the Doab between the Jumna and the Ganges, about eighty miles north
of Meerut, it was selected as the head-quarters for operations on the
great Ganges Canal, the noblest British work in India; and here has been
made a magnificent aqueduct nine hundred feet in length, with arches of
fifty feet span. This aqueduct, and the necessary workshops and
model-rooms of the engineers, have converted the place from a small
village to a considerable station. Roorkee also contains an
establishment called the ‘Thomason College,’ for affording instruction
in civil engineering to Europeans and natives. When the native Sappers
and Miners, about eight hundred strong, arrived at Meerut from this
place, on the 16th of May—either excited by the news of the late
occurrences, or moved by some other impulse—they suddenly shot their
commanding officer, and made off for the open country. A force of the
Carabiniers and horse-artillery went in pursuit of them, and shot down
many; but a greater number escaped, probably to Delhi. Such of the
companies as did not attempt flight were disarmed and carefully watched.
[Illustration:
Dâk Runner.
]
Too soon, alas! did the Europeans at Meerut know that atrocities were
being committed at Delhi. By twos and threes did fugitives come in, glad
to sacrifice all else for the sake of very life. Now several officers of
the 38th native regiment; now a merchant and his family; now officers of
the 74th and their families; now civil servants of the Company; now
officers of the 54th—all toil-worn, dirty, ragged, hungered, weighed
down by the miseries of their forty miles’ flight from brutal
assailants: women, as is usual with Englishwomen, bearing their share of
these miseries with the truest heroism. All was doubt as to the
occurrences in other quarters; dâks were cut off, telegraphic wires were
severed; the wishes and orders of the governor-general at one place, and
the commander-in-chief at another, could not yet be known. On the night
of the outbreak, two Europeans had endeavoured to travel by dâk from
Meerut to Delhi; they encountered the rebels, and were murdered; and
this was the commencement of indications, afterwards abundant enough,
that the roads were no longer safe. All that was certain was, that a
sudden social earthquake had overturned the homes of families distant
nine hundred miles from Calcutta, bringing death to many, mourning and
loss to others, distrust and anxiety to all.
CHAPTER IV.
DELHI, THE CENTRE OF INDIAN NATIONALITY.
The course of this narrative now requires that attention—more particular
than will be required in relation to other cities in India—should be
bestowed on the world-renowned Delhi, the great focus of all that can be
called truly national in that vast country. Three regiments fled from
Meerut to Delhi, and there found other regiments ready to join them in
scenes of revolt and violence, of spoliation and murder; but it is
necessary, in order to appreciate what followed, to know why Delhi is
regarded in a peculiar light by the natives: why a successful resistance
to British rule was, and must long continue to be, more serious in that
locality than in any other part of the East. Not only ought the position
of the city, considered as the residence of a hundred and sixty thousand
Mohammedans and Hindoos, to be rendered familiar; but the reader should
know how it has happened that the sovereign of that city has, for eight
or nine hundred years, been regarded in a peculiar sense as the autocrat
of Hindostan, the one man before whom millions of natives have been wont
to bend the knee, or rather to lie prostrate in abject submission.
What India was before the arrival of the Mussulmans, need not be told
here at any length. We know, in truth, very little on that matter. It
was from the days of the first Moslem conqueror that the greatness of
Delhi began. Long before the Christian era, Arab merchants brought rich
spiceries from Sinde and Malabar, and sold them to Phœnician merchants,
who conveyed them on laden camels by way of Petra to the shores of the
Mediterranean. Other portions of Indian merchandise were carried up the
Persian Gulf and the Euphrates to a point whence they were transported
westward to Aleppo or Antioch—a route almost identical with that
advocated in the present day for a Euphrates railway and a Euphrates
telegraph. The Greeks derived all their knowledge of Indian commodities
through the Phœnicians: while their information concerning the country
itself was obtained from the Persians, who at one time held sway as far
as the Indus. The expedition of Alexander the Great into India, about
326 B.C., first gave the Greeks a personal knowledge of this wonderful
land; and many successors of the great Macedonian added to the then
existing amount of information concerning the tribes, the productions,
the customs of the region beyond the Indus. Consequent on those
discoveries, the merchants of the newly founded city of Alexandria
gradually obtained a command of the trade with India: bringing the rich
produce of the East by ship to Berenice on the Red Sea, and then
transporting it overland to Alexandria. The commodities thus imported
were chiefly precious stones, spices, perfumes, and silks; and during
some centuries the Roman Empire was drained of much specie to pay for
these imports. Alexandrians were the principal merchants who furnished
the nations of Europe with Indian articles till the discovery of the
passage round the Cape of Good Hope by Vasco de Gama in 1498. The
western nations of Asia, however, continued to be supplied principally
by the merchants of Basra or Bussorah, a very flourishing commercial
city near the point where the Euphrates empties itself into the Persian
Gulf; and there was also an extensive caravan-trade from Northern India
through Northern Persia to the Caspian and the Black Sea. The discovery
of the Cape of Good Hope route naturally attracted the attention of the
maritime nations of Europe towards India, followed by the settlement of
Portuguese and Dutch traders on the coast, and ultimately by the
wonderful rise of British power in those regions through the
instrumentality of the East India Company.
But although trading instincts thus laid India open to the commercial
dealings of merchants, and to the cupidity of European princes, it was
not until modern erudition had been applied to the subject that the true
history of the land of the Hindoos became at all known. Scholars found,
when they had mastered the Sanscrit or sacred language of that people,
that a wonderful mine of information was thrown open to them. They
ascertained that the nation, whatever it may have been called, from
which the genuine Hindoos are descended, must at some period have
inhabited the central plains of Asia, whence they migrated into the
northern parts of India; that for at least a thousand years before the
Christian era, great and powerful empires existed in Hindostan, which
made considerable progress in knowledge, civilisation, and literature;
that Southern India, or the Deccan, was conquered and peopled by the
Hindoos at a much later date than the rest; that Buddhism, the religion
of the earlier inhabitants, was overruled and driven out by Brahminism
or Hindooism in the fifth century of our era; and that for five
centuries longer, the Hindoos were the true rulers of this much-coveted
land.
It was, however, as has been already implied, only with the arrival of
the Mohammedans that the course of Indian history took that turn which
is now interesting to us, especially in connection with the city of
Delhi.
The year 1000 was marked by the invasion of India by Mahmoud of Ghiznee,
a Tatar sovereign who held sway among the chieftains of Afghanistan. He
defeated the rajah of Lahore at Peshawur; then penetrated beyond the
Sutlej; and returned laden with spoil. In a second expedition he
conquered Moultan; in a third, he reconquered the same city after a
revolt. A fourth expedition found Mahmoud opposed by a confederacy of
all the sovereigns of Northern India, who, seeing a common danger,
resolved to unite for a common cause; they were rapidly gaining an
advantage over him, when the sudden fright of an elephant induced a
panic in the Hindoo army, and left the victory to Mahmoud, who returned
to Ghiznee still more richly laden with booty than ever. For a time, the
Hindoo king who reigned over the region of which Delhi was the chief
city, managed to ward off the hostility of the great invader; but taking
offence at a departure from neutrality during one of the later
expeditions, Mahmoud captured that city, and returned to Ghiznee with
forty thousand prisoners. For thirty years did these raids and
spoliations continue. The most celebrated next to that which resulted in
the sack of Delhi, was the expedition intended for the destruction of
the Hindoo temple of Somnauth in Gujerat: a temple which, if native
annals are to be believed, had fifty thousand worshippers, and was
endowed with a revenue of two thousand villages; which had two thousand
Brahmins officiating as priests, five hundred daughters of noble Hindoos
as dancing-girls, three hundred musicians; and the sandal-wood gates of
which were the theme of magniloquence from the pen of an English
governor-general eight centuries afterwards.[7] Mahmoud broke all the
idols, and carried off countless treasures to Ghiznee.
From that time to the period of the rise of British power, the
Mohammedans never lost their hold upon India, however much it may have
been shaken by occasional success on the part of the Hindoos; nor did
they ever cease to regard Delhi as the chief Indian city. Although
Mahmoud made twelve expeditions across the Indus, the object was mainly
booty, rather than permanent settlement. His successors, however,
established a regular government in the Punjaub, and in the region
thence eastward to Delhi. The Ghiznee dynasty was put an end to in the
year 1184, when it was overcome by the Seljuks; and in 1193 Delhi was
formally appointed capital of the Moslem sovereigns of India. After a
succession of rebellions and murders, exhibiting all the hideous
features of Oriental politics, the Seljuk dynasty fell to pieces in the
year 1289. Then arose a third Mohammedan dynasty, that of the Afghans or
Patans, who came like all the other conquerors of India from the
northwest, and who like them coveted Delhi as their capital. For about a
century did these Patan emperors reign, continually struggling against
Hindoo rajahs on the one hand, and Mussulman adventurers on the other.
It was in the year 1398 that Tamerlane—familiar to all school-boys in
England by the famous name of Timour the Tatar—first set foot in India,
and laid the foundation of the Mogul dynasty. Properly speaking, he was
not a true Mogul, but belonged to the rival Tatar nation of Turcomans;
nevertheless the line of emperors to which he gave origin has always
been known as the Mogul dynasty. He was a ruthless conqueror, who,
having ravaged all Central Asia from the Black Sea to the Chinese
frontier, turned his attention towards India. He crossed the Indus at
Attock, went to Moultan, and extended his march to Delhi, wading through
Hindoo blood, which he shed without resistance and almost without cause.
The native annalists record how he put a hundred thousand beings to
death in the great city; how he caused himself to be proclaimed Emperor
or Great Mogul of India; how he departed suddenly to end his days on the
other side of the Indus; and how Delhi mourned for many a year over its
miseries. No pen can describe what India suffered during the next
century and a quarter, with a Mogul emperor at Delhi, constantly
fighting with the Mohammedan chieftains who resisted his authority.
The long but often broken line of wretched despots need not be
enumerated here: a few landmarks of great names—Baber, Akbar,
Jehanghire, Shahjehan, Aurungzebe, Nadir Shah—will furnish all that is
needful for our present purpose.
Baber—or, in more majestic form, Zahireddin Mohammed Baber—a descendant
of Tamerlane, was the first really great Mohammedan emperor of Delhi,
the first Mogul who regarded his subjects in any other light than as a
prey to be spoliated. Centering his power at Delhi, he extended it
eastward to the mouth of the Ganges; and although, in his short reign of
four years, from 1526 to 1530, constantly engaged in military
expeditions, he nevertheless found time to cultivate the arts of peace,
and to attend to whatever appeared calculated to promote the prosperity
of his empire. In blood-shedding, he was scarcely surpassed by his
predecessor Tamerlane: indeed this was a propensity among all the Tatar
chieftains of those times. When his warlike and angry passions were not
excited, Baber could, however, come forth in a very different light, as
a kind and forgiving man, one fond of friends and friendship, and not
without a tinge of poetry in his tastes. He was a man of business, who
attended personally to the affairs of government, and passed fewer hours
in sensual idleness than is customary with oriental princes. With the
Hindoos he had little trouble; their national character was by this time
much broken; the rapid succession of reigning families had inured them
to change; and they had imbibed a feeling of horror and dismay from the
atrocities to which the various Moslem conquerors had subjected them.
When opposition to his progress had once ceased in India, he became an
altered man. He made or improved roads; established serais or
resting-places for travellers at suitable distances; caused the land to
be measured, in order to fix taxation by equitable adjustment; planted
gardens, and introduced many trees and plants until then unknown in
India; established a regular post from Agra, through Delhi, Lahore, and
Peshawur, to Cabool; and wrought many improvements in the city of Delhi.
Akbar, unquestionably the wisest and greatest prince who ever ruled
India—a prince who was really a benefactor to his people—was the
grandson of Baber. Becoming emperor of Delhi in 1556, he established the
Mogul dynasty on a firmer basis than it had before occupied. The native
Hindoos enjoyed, under him, greater prosperity than they had ever
experienced since the first invasion of the Mohammedans. He was
distinguished by a spirit of toleration and a love of justice; and the
memory of his virtues is to this day treasured up by the Hindoos as well
as the Mussulmans of India. As the worshippers of Islam had, by the time
of Akbar, fallen out much among themselves, in various parts of Asia,
the Mogul Moslems of India gradually became weaned from sympathy with
the rest, and prepared for more thorough amalgamation with the Hindoos
than had ever before been possible. If not an amalgamation by family
ties, it was at least an incorporation by civil and social usages; and
thus it is that from the time of Akbar may be dated the remarkable
mixture of Mohammedans and Hindoos in so many towns of India. Ambitious
chieftains might continue to struggle for supremacy; but the populace of
the two religions began to wish rather to trade together than to
exterminate each other. Akbar had the genius to see the full force of
this tendency, and the honesty to encourage it. He never crushed those
whom he conquered; but invited all alike, Hindoos as well as
Mohammedans, to settle down as peaceful citizens, assured that they
would receive equal justice from him regardless of their religious
differences. He placed natives of both races in offices of trust; he
abolished the capitation-tax on infidels; he forbade the degradation of
war-prisoners to the position of slaves; he abrogated such of the Hindoo
laws as were most repulsive to reason or humanity, without being vital
parts of their religion; he discouraged fanaticism among those of his
own faith; he encouraged trade and commerce; he reduced taxation; and he
kept a strict watch over the conduct of the officers of his government.
The mildness of his character, his strict impartiality to the different
classes of his subjects the magnanimity which he shewed to his enemies,
and his great personal courage are mentioned with praise even by the
Jesuits, who visited India during his reign. Well did this eminent man,
during his long reign of forty-nine years, deserve the title of Akbar
the Great; and natural was it that his subjects should look up with
reverence to Delhi, the centre and seat of his empire. His reign, both
in its beginning and its end, was almost exactly contemporaneous with
that of Queen Elizabeth in England.
Jehanghire, a far inferior prince to Akbar, succeeded him in 1605, and
soon became involved in troubles. The Uzbeks obtained possession of his
dominions in Cabool; the King of Persia took Candahar from him; the
Afghans revolted from his rule; the Hindoo Rajpoots commenced their
struggles for independence; and, at a later date, his son Shahjehan
rebelled against him. Nevertheless, Jehanghire, judged by an oriental
standard, was not a bad ruler of Hindostan. The country enjoyed
considerable prosperity under him; literature was extensively
cultivated; many new cities were built; the Hindoo religion experienced
even greater toleration than in the reign of Akbar; and he gave a
courteous reception to Sir Thomas Roe, sent on an embassy from England
to the Great Mogul. He was, however, a strange being. In a fit of anger
against certain rebels, he caused several hundreds of them to be
impaled, and placed in a row leading out of the Lahore gate at Delhi;
and he himself rode past them on an elephant, ‘to receive the obeisance
of his friends.’ His native ferocity also shone out, in his causing one
of his principal councillors to be sewed up in the hide of a newly
flayed ox, and thrown into the street; the hide, shrinking in the heat
of the sun, compressed him to death; but as the compression came too
soon to satisfy the savage feelings of the monarch, he caused the next
victim, when similarly incased, to be sprinkled with water occasionally,
to prolong the torture. One of the most remarkable circumstances in the
career of Jehanghire was the influence gradually acquired over him by
his Sultaness Nurmahal, the ‘light of the palace,’ whose name became
changed to Nurjehan, the ‘light of the world;’ her exquisite beauty,
wit, and accomplishments, won the love of the monarch; and as she was in
mind and heart far his superior, her power over him was often exerted
for good purposes.
Shahjehan, an ungrateful son to Jehanghire, was destined to be, in turn,
the victim of his own son Aurungzebe. He was an emperor from 1627 to
1659, and then a miserable uncrowned captive for seven years longer. He
attacked all the neighbouring princes whose dominions or wealth he
coveted; and blinded or murdered all his relations whose ambition he
dreaded. And yet, amid his atrocities, he was a man of much ability.
Delhi, Agra, and other cities, benefited by his rule. The internal
government of his kingdom was very complete. The great mosque at Delhi,
and the Taj Mahal at Agra, which rose at his command, are, to this day,
objects of admiration to the natives of India. Though it may, to English
minds, have been a waste of public money to spend six millions sterling
on the far-famed peacock’s throne; yet, as all his establishments were
formed on a scale of great magnificence, and as numerous other cities
and towns throughout the Empire vied with the splendour of Delhi and
Agra—there is evidence that the Mogul and his dominions must have owned
vast wealth. He possessed both taste and financial tact; and thus, with
all his atrocities, Shahjehan left behind him a full treasury and a
splendid and prosperous empire.
Aurungzebe, the last Mogul who maintained the real greatness of the
native court of Delhi, became emperor in 1659, by an act of violence
against his royal parent. He captured the cities of Hyderabad, Bejapore,
and Golconda, and extended his dominions nearly to the limits of the
Carnatic. There were, however, the germs of mischief perceptible in his
reign: the warlike Hindoo tribe of Mahrattas rose into note; and though
they were frequently defeated in the plains by the troops of Aurungzebe,
he was unable to subdue the country inhabited by these mountaineers.
Sevajee, the founder of the Mahratta empire, gradually conquered the
greater part of the Deccan; he died in 1682, and his son, Sambajee, was
put to a cruel death by Aurungzebe in 1689; but the Mogul emperors of
the north could never afterwards wholly subdue the Mahratta rajah of the
south. Aurungzebe was illiberal towards his Hindoo subjects; and this
circumstance threw them into closer sympathy than would otherwise have
been produced with the rude Mahratta mountaineers. He was not without
ability; but he had neither the wisdom nor the justice to maintain his
wide-spreading empire in a state of greatness; and when he died in 1707,
he left the Mogul power at Delhi much weaker than he found it at the
period of his seizure of the crown.
Nadir Shah, although never emperor of Delhi, must be named here as one
who contributed to the crumbling of the Mogul dynasty. This man, one of
the grand barbarians whom Central Asia has so often sent forth, was the
son of a sheep-skin cap-maker. He became a soldier of fortune; then the
leader of a band of robbers; then governor of Khorassan; then Shah of
Persia; then a formidable opponent of the Turks and the Afghans; and
then a scourge to India. While devastating Afghanistan in 1738, he
required of the Emperor of Delhi that none of the Afghans should find
shelter in his (the Mogul’s) dominions; but as no attention was paid to
his demands, he marched into Hindostan in the following year, and
entered Delhi with an enormous army on the 8th of March. He seized the
whole of the vast treasures which had been amassed in the course of
nearly two centuries by the Mogul monarchs. The citizens not being so
submissive as he wished, he ordered a general massacre. His commands
were only too well obeyed; for, from sunrise till noon, the inhabitants
were slaughtered by his soldiers without distinction of sex or age. At
the earnest intercession of the emperor, Nadir ordered the butchery to
be stopped. Where the estimates of human beings murdered varies from
8000 to 150,000, it is clear that no trustworthy data are obtainable;
but it is unquestionable that Delhi suffered immensely, both in its
population and its wealth. The ruthless despoiler not only refrained
from claiming the crown of Hindostan, but he did not make any conquests
whatever: he came simply as a Shah of Persia on an errand of vengeance;
he remained two months at Delhi; and then departed westward, carrying
with him treasures that have been variously estimated at from thirty to
seventy millions sterling.
The Delhi monarchs no longer need or deserve our attention; they had
fallen from their high estate, and were forced to struggle constantly
for the maintenance of their authority. A number of obscure names meet
our view after the time of Aurungzebe—Shah Alum, Moez-Eddin, Furrucksir,
Mohammed Shah, Ahmed Shah, Alumghir, and Shah Alum II.: each more
powerless than the preceding. Now they were attacked by the warlike
Mahrattas; now by the Rajpoots, a military Hindoo tribe which had never
been wholly subdued by the Moslems; now by the Sikhs, a kind of Hindoo
dissenters, brave and independent in their bearing; now by the Rohillas,
an Afghan race, who effected a settlement in the very neighbourhood of
Delhi; now by many of the Mohammedan nawabs or viceroys, who, like other
Asiatic viceroys in parallel circumstances, were willing to rise on the
fall of their masters; now by the competing sons and nephews who
surrounded every emperor; and now—more striking in its consequences than
all the rest—by the ever-encroaching British.
Nevertheless, amid all this decadence of Mogul power, the natives of
Hindostan never ceased to look up to the emperor as the centre of power,
to Delhi as the centre of nationality. Their traditions told them of
Mahmoud, of Tamerlane, of Baber, of the great Akbar, of Jehanghire, of
Shahjehan, of Aurungzebe; and although ruthless barbarities were
connected with the names of many of these rulers, there was still a
grandeur that impressed the imagination. The Hindoos, it is true, had
their sacred associations connected with Benares rather than with Delhi;
but their distinct nationality had been almost stamped out of them
during eight centuries of Mohammedan supremacy; and they, like the rest,
held in reverence the city where the peacock’s throne had glittered on
the world.
By what strange steps the descendants of the Great Mogul became
pensioners of the East India Company, will be explained presently; but
it will be well first to describe Delhi itself.
This far-famed city is situated on the river Jumna, about five hundred
miles by road above Allahabad, where the Jumna flows into the Ganges,
and nine hundred by road from Calcutta. In the opposite direction, Delhi
is nearly four hundred miles from Lahore, and six or seven hundred from
Peshawur—so great are the distances between the chief towns in India:
distances that terribly hamper the operations of a British army during
any sudden emergency. Striking as Delhi may be, it presents but a faint
approach in splendour to the city of past days, the home of the grand
old Moguls. Of the original Delhi, the natives give the most extravagant
account; they even run back to a period three thousand years before the
Christian era for its foundation. All that is certain, however, is, that
Inderput or Indraprestha, the name of the old city, was the capital of a
Hindoo kingdom under a rajah, long before its conquest by the
Mohammedans. When or how the original city went to ruin, is not exactly
known; but modern Delhi owes its chief adornments to Shahjehan. A
traveller from the south or Agra direction is struck with the evidences
of ruined Inderput before he sees anything of modern Delhi. ‘Everywhere
throughout the plain rise shapeless half-ruined obelisks, the relics of
massive Patan architecture, their bases buried under heaps of ruins
bearing a dismal growth of thorny shrubs. Everywhere we tread on
overthrown walls. Brick mosaics mark the ground-plan of the humbler
dwellings of the poorer classes. Among the relics of a remote age, are
occasionally to be seen monuments of light and elegant style of
architecture, embellished with brilliant colours, gilt domes, and
minarets incased in enamelled tiles.’ Some travellers have asserted that
they have traced these ruins thirty miles along the Jumna; but these
cannot all have been the ruins of one city. Approaching the present
Delhi, it is seen that the ruins are spread over a plain, in the midst
of which the city is situated; and they give place, after a time, to the
tasteful villas of the Europeans who exercise civil or military control
within Delhi. Most of these villas are on the site of the once famous
garden of Shalimar. On the northern side of the city, close under a
ridge of sandstone rocks called the Mijnoon Pahar, are the
cantonments—an alternation of bungalows, huts, and groups of trees.
So much for the environs. Although not entitled to take rank among the
great cities of the earth, Delhi is nevertheless a considerable place,
for it is seven miles in circumference. The Jumna bounds it on the east,
while a lofty crenellated wall, of horseshoe shape, completes the
boundary on the other sides. This wall has been an object of much
attention at different times. As built by Shahjehan, it possessed little
strength. When the British obtained ascendency over the city in 1803,
the wall was found to be in a ruinous state, without other flanking
defences than small circular bastions placed at intervals; the ditch was
imperfect; there was scarcely any vestige of a glacis or exterior slope;
and the crumbling ruins of dilapidated buildings had been allowed to
accumulate all round the wall. Captains Hutchinson and Smith, of the
Bengal engineers, were thereupon deputed to restore and strengthen the
fortifications. It was determined to establish a series of bastions,
with faces and flanks to defend the curtain or plain wall, and to mount
them with heavy artillery. The walls were repaired; and to shield them
from escalade, they were protected, especially on the river-front, with
beams of timber, the sharpened ends of which were pointed at an acute
angle downward into the ditch. The ditch was cleared out and deepened;
the glacis was made to cover, in some degree, the scarp of the wall; the
ground outside was cleared to some distance of ruins and houses; and the
ravines were filled up to check the approach of marauding horsemen. To
prepare for a rising within the city as well as an attack from without,
detached martello towers were constructed, entirely separate from the
walls, and accessible from them only by drawbridges; each tower had a
gun mounted on a pivot, so that in the event of a tumult in the city,
the towers might be occupied by artillerymen, the drawbridges drawn up,
and the guns swiveled round to pour a fire upon the insurgents. The
gateways of the city were strengthened; outworks were provided in front
of some of them, while others were provided with guard-houses and
_places-d’armes_. At a much later date—in 1838—Lord Auckland caused the
walls and towers to be strengthened, and one of the new defences, called
the Wellesley Bastion, to be reconstructed.
In what relation these defences stood to a British besieging force in
1857, will remain to be told in a future chapter: we proceed here with
the description of the city.
[Illustration:
BIRD’S-EYE VIEW OF DELHI.—From a Coloured Lithograph by A. Maclure:
taken from original native Drawings.
]
Delhi has seven gates on the land-side, named, respectively, the Lahore,
Ajmeer, Turcoman, Cabool, Mohur or Moree, Cashmere, and Agra Gates;
while along the river-front are four others, the Rajghat, Negumbod,
Lall, and Kaila Gates. Some little diversity is shewn by travellers in
giving these names; and some make the number of gates twelve instead of
eleven. The Cashmere Gate is provided with casemated or shot-proof
chambers, for the accommodation of a city-guard. A bridge of boats over
the Jumna connects Delhi with the road leading northeastward to Meerut,
and the chief magazine is, or was, between the centre of the city and
this bridge. Eight of the defences on the walls are called the Shah
Bastion, Burn Bastion, Gurstin Bastion, College Bastion, Ochterlony
Bastion, Lake Bastion, Wellesley Bastion, and Nawab Bastion—names
obviously derived, in most instances, from military officers engaged in
the Company’s service. Strictly speaking, the wall does not quite
surround the city; for on one side it abuts on a small branch of the
river, where there is a short bridge across to the old fort of
Selimgurh, built in a very heavy style by one of the early emperors.
Entirely outside the wall, north of the city, is a custom-house, which
affords a curious commentary on the relations existing between the civil
and military officers of the Company. It was first built by a medical
officer, then sold to the Company for a treasury, and then adapted as a
custom-house. The engineers wanted to get rid of this building, as an
obstruction to their plan of defences, in the same way as they had swept
away numerous outhouses, bazaars, and ruins; but the civilians prevented
this; and so the custom-house remained till 1857, when the building and
its garden became a ready prey to the rebels.
The city, considered without relation to its defences, presents many of
those features so familiar in oriental towns. As seen by the approaching
traveller, few of the dwelling-houses peep above the ramparts; but the
Jumma Musjid or principal mosque, the turreted and battlemented palace,
the minarets, and other public buildings, combine to form a majestic
picture; while the graceful acacias and lofty date-trees bending over
the ramparts, and the grouping of tombs with sombre foliage on the
glacis, add new features to the scene. Arrived within the city, it is
seen that the streets are mostly narrow. The chief exception is that of
a handsome street running south from the palace to the Agra Gate: three
quarters of a mile long by a hundred and fifty feet wide. This street
has, therefore, length and breadth enough to afford space for much
splendour; but the Delhians have not fully availed themselves of this
opportunity, for they have built blocks of small houses in the midst of
this street, analogous in some degree to the ‘Middle Rows’ known to the
inhabitants of London. Another large street, similarly shorn of its due
dignity, runs from the palace westward to the Lahore Gate. Both streets
are, however, enlivened by raised water-courses flowing in channels of
red stone—part of a great work begun and finished by the Company, for
supplying Delhi with water.
The glories of Delhi are the great mosque and the still greater palace.
The Jumma Musjid, situated in the centre of the city, is one of those
buildings to which Mohammedans point with pride: famous not only in
Hindostan, but all over Southern and Central Asia. It presents to the
eye an open court on an elevated platform, nearly five hundred feet
square; in the middle of which is a marble fountain for the ablutions
necessary in the ceremonials of Islamism. On three sides of this court
are open arcades and octagonal pavilions; while on the fourth side is
the mosque, a structure of great splendour approached by a magnificent
flight of marble steps. White marble cornices inlaid in black marble
with inscriptions from the Koran; walls, ceilings, and pavements of the
same delicate materials; beautiful domes and lofty minarets—all combine
to render the Jumma Musjid a truly gorgeous structure. The Emperor
Shahjehan built it more than two centuries ago; and the British
government gave orders in 1851 that it should be kept in repair.
But, splendid as is the Jumma Musjid, the imperial palace is still more
striking—partly for what it is, but principally for what it has been.
The palace stands between the two principal streets and the bridge. Some
travellers have compared it with Windsor Castle, some with the Kremlin
at Moscow, in size and majesty; while others insist that it has no
compeer. Bishop Heber was quite enthusiastic in its praise. In the first
place, the palatial buildings are surrounded by a wall to which there is
certainly no parallel either at Windsor or at Moscow; it is of red
granite, three quarters of a mile in circuit, nearly forty feet high,
flanked with turrets and domes, and entered by two noble gates with
barbicans. This wall is a grand work in itself, irrespective of the
structures it encloses. Strictly speaking, the wall is only on three
sides, the fourth abutting on a small branch of the Jumna, where occurs
the short bridge crossing to the old fort of Selimgurh. The palace
itself is entered by a series of beautiful gateways, all of red granite,
and all sculptured with flowers and inscriptions from the Koran. The
vaulted aisles and the open octagonal courts are spoken of by Heber with
great admiration. The Dewani Khas, or private council-chamber, although
allowed to become filthy by the visits of crows and kites, is an
exquisite structure; it is a pavilion of white marble, supporting four
cupolas of the same delicate material, with pillars and arches
elaborately inlaid with gilt arabesques, flowers, and inscriptions. The
garden around it has numerous white marble fountains of elegant form,
and a small octagonal pavilion with bath-rooms, but all dirty and
neglected. The Moti Musjid or private mosque for the court, and the
Dewani-aum or public hall of audience, are, like the rest of the palace,
ornate in marble and in carving, in sculpture and in inscriptions, in
gilding and in inlaying; and, also like the rest, disfigured with
filth—a combination truly oriental. In the hall of audience is, or was
before the Revolt, the dais on which once stood the world-renowned
peacock’s throne, formed entirely of gold and jewels; and it was in this
same chamber that the victorious Nadir Shah, by exchanging turbans with
the defeated Mogul Mohammed Shah, obtained possession of a treasure
almost as renowned as the peacock’s throne itself—the _koh-i-noor_, the
‘mountain of light,’ the glorious diamond which, after various
vicissitudes, now occupies a place in the regalia of Queen Victoria.
Passing from a scene of decayed splendour to one of living interest, we
find Delhi to be inhabited by almost an exactly equal number of Hindoos
and Mohammedans, eighty thousand of each; but it is essentially a
Mohammedan city, the centre of their prestige and influence in India;
and all the dwellings and public buildings of the Hindoos are indicative
of a race locally less powerful. Besides the imperial palace just
described, there is, about nine miles from Delhi, near an extraordinary
pillar called the Kootub Minar, the country residence of the emperor,
or, as it has been more customary in recent years to call him, the King.
It is a large but paltry building, in an inferior style of Italian
architecture, with a public road running through the very court-yard.
Within the city a palace was built for the British resident a few years
ago; and around this building a number of elegant houses have since been
erected, by the natives as well as by the Europeans. Since the once
great Mogul has been a king without a kingdom, a pensioned puppet of the
Company, a potentate having nothing to employ his thoughts and his
pension but political intrigue and sensual indulgence—the representative
of England has been a sort of envoy or resident, ostensibly rendering
honour to the Mogul, but really watching that he does no mischief,
really insuring that he shall be a king only in name. But more on this
point presently. The British civil staff in the city comprises—or did
comprise before the Revolt—a resident or commissioner, a revenue
collector, a magistrate, and other officials. There have usually been
three regiments barracked or stationed in the cantonment; but the
military importance of the place has been rather due to the fact that
Delhi has been made a depôt for a large park of artillery—valuable
enough when in the hands of the British, but a source of dismay and
disaster when seized by mutineers.
Although this narrative has little to do with the merits or demerits of
Delhi as a place of residence; yet, knowing something of what Englishmen
and Englishwomen have had to bear when cooped up within a town or fort
menaced by ruthless natives, every compatriot at home would like further
to know in what way those trials are likely to have been aggravated by
the incidents of climate. A lady-traveller furnishes a vivid picture of
Delhi in a _hot-wind_, such as frequently visits towns in India during
certain seasons of the year. ‘Every article of furniture is burning to
the touch; the hardest wood, if not well covered with blankets, will
split with a report like that of a pistol; and linen taken from the
drawers appears as if just removed from a kitchen-fire. The nights are
terrible, every apartment being heated to excess. Gentlemen usually have
their beds placed in the verandahs, or on the chubootiar or terrace on
the top of the house: as they incur little risk in sleeping in the open
air, at a season in which no dew falls, and when there is scarcely any
variation in the thermometer. Tornadoes are frequent during these hot
winds; while they last, the skies, though cloudless, are darkened with
dust, the sun is obscured, and a London fog cannot more effectually
exclude the prospect. The birds are dreadful sufferers at this season;
their wings droop, and their bills are open as if gasping for breath;
all animals are more or less affected.’ Then, when this frightful heat
is about to depart, ensues a storm, more terrible to look at, though
easier to bear. ‘The approaching strife is made known by a cloud, or
rather a wall of dust, which appears at the extremity of the horizon,
becoming more lofty as it advances. The air is sultry and still; for the
wind, which is tearing up the sand as it rushes along, is not felt in
front of the billowy masses, whose mighty ramparts gather strength as
they spread. At length the plain is surrounded, and the sky becomes as
murky as midnight. Then the thunder breaks forth, but its most awful
peals are scarcely heard in the deep roar of the tempest; burst succeeds
to burst, each more wild and furious than the former; the forked
lightnings flash in vain, for the dust, which is as thick as snow,
flings an impenetrable veil around them. The wind having spent itself in
a final effort, suddenly subsides, and the dust is as speedily dispersed
by torrents of rain, which in a very short time flood the whole
country.’ This is the last agony of the storm; after which the
temperature lowers and nature becomes more tranquil.
Such is Delhi—such the city which, amid all its changes of fortune, has
for so many centuries been an object of reverential affection to the
natives of Hindostan. When the disorganised regiments from Meerut
entered the imperial gates, they found an aged mogul or king, with sons
and grandsons, courtiers and retainers, willing to make him a
stepping-stone to their own advancement. Who this king was, and how he
had come into that position, may soon be told.
Precisely a century ago, when Clive was preparing to revenge the
atrocities connected with the Black Hole at Calcutta, the Delhi empire
was rapidly losing all its power; the northern and northwestern
provinces were seized upon by the Afghans and the Sikhs; the Rajpoots
extended their dominions as far as Ajmeer; and the Emperor Alumghir was
too weak to protect his capital from the monstrous barbarities of the
Afghan insurgents. The next emperor, Shah Alum II., unable either to
repel invaders or to control his rebellious nawabs, virtually yielded to
the rapidly rising power of the East India Company. He signed a treaty
with Clive in 1765, involving mutual obligations; he was to yield to the
British certain provinces, and to award to a resident appointed from
Calcutta considerable power at the court of Delhi; while the British
were to protect him from his numerous assailants, and to secure him a
pension of £260,000 per annum, which, with other sources of wealth,
brought the degenerate descendant of the Moguls nearly half a million
annually. Troubled by the Mahrattas on one side, by the Rohillas on a
second, and by the Nawab of Oude on a third, the paralysed emperor
became so bewildered that he knew not which way to turn. About 1788 a
Rohilla chieftain suddenly entered Delhi, and put out the eyes of the
unfortunate emperor with a poniard; then the Mahrattas defeated this
chieftain, seized the capital, and reduced Shah Alum himself to a mere
puppet. During this anarchy the British in India were so fully occupied
in other quarters, that they could not make a resolute demonstration in
the centre of the once great Mogul empire; but in the year 1803 all was
prepared by Lord Lake for a resolute attempt to break down the Mahratta
and Rohilla power in the north, and to insure that the emperor should
have no other master than the Company—a kindness, the motives for which
will not bear very close scrutiny. The battle of Delhi, fought on the
11th of September 1803, opened the gates of the city to the British, and
relieved the emperor from his thraldom. A reverse had very nearly
occurred, however. While Lake was reposing after his victory, Holkar,
the great Mahratta chief, leaving his cavalry to attract the notice of
the British at Muttra, suddenly appeared before Delhi with a force of
20,000 infantry and 100 guns. The garrison comprised only two battalions
and four companies of native troops, with a few irregular horse; and as
some of these deserted at the first affright, there were left only 800
men and 11 guns to defend a city seven miles in circuit. By unwearied
patience and daring intrepidity, however, Colonel Burn, who was military
commandant in the city at the time, and who was ably assisted by Colonel
Ochterlony and Lieutenant Rose, succeeded in repelling all the attacks
of the Mahrattas; and Holkar retired discomfited.
From that day—from the 16th of October 1803, until the 11th of May
1857—an enemy was never seen before the gates of Delhi; a day had never
passed during which the city had been other than the capital of a state
governed nominally by a Mogul king, but really by a British resident.
Shah Alum, after thirty years of a troubled life, was vouchsafed three
years of peace, and died in 1806—a pensioner of that great abstraction,
that inscrutable mystery to the millions of Hindostan, the ‘Coompanee
Bahadoor,’ the Most Honourable Company.
The behaviour of the Company’s servants towards the feeble descendant of
the Great Moguls was, until about thirty years ago, the most absurd
mockery. They took away all his real power, and then offered him a
privilege, the least exercise of which, if he had ventured on such a
thing, they would at once have resented. Shah Akbar, who succeeded his
old, blind, feeble father, Shah Alum, in 1806, became at once a
pensioner. He was really king, not over a kingdom, but only over the
twelve thousand inmates of the imperial palace at Delhi, his relations
and retainers—the whole of whom he supported on a pension of about a
hundred thousand pounds per annum, paid by the Company. Hindoo and
Mussulman, notwithstanding his fallen state, alike looked up to him as
the only representative of the ancient glories of India; numerous
princes received their solemn and legal investiture from him; and until
1827, the Company acquired no new province _without applying for his
nominal sanction and official firman_. He was permitted to bestow
dresses of honour on native princes at their accession to the musnud, as
a token of suzerainty; and the same ceremony was attempted by him
occasionally towards the governor-general. At length, under the rule of
Earl Amherst in 1827, it was determined to put an end to a system which
was either a mockery, or an incentive to disaffection on the part of the
Delhians. The pension to the king was increased to a hundred and fifty
thousand pounds, but the supposed or implied vassalage of the East India
Company to the nominal Padishah or Mohammedan ruler of India was brought
to an end; Shah Akbar being, from that date, powerless beyond the walls
of his palace—except as the representative, the symbol, of something
great, still venerated by the natives.
Palace intrigues have not been wanting at Delhi during the twenty years
that preceded the Revolt; and these intrigues have borne some relation
to the state of disaffection that accompanied that outbreak. Shah Akbar
reigned, if reigning it can be called, from 1806 until 1837. He wished
to be succeeded by his second son, Shahzadah Jehanghire; but the British
authorities insisted that the succession should go, as before, to the
eldest son; and consequently Meerza Abu Zuffur became emperor on Shah
Akbar’s death in 1837, under the title of Mahomed Suraj-u-deen Shah
Ghazee. This monarch, again, exhibited the same distrust of the next
heir that is so often displayed in Oriental countries; the British
authorities were solicited to set aside the proper heir to the peacock’s
throne, in favour of a younger prince who possessed much influence in
the zenana. Again was the request refused; and the palace at Delhi was
known to have been a focus of discontent and intrigue for some time
previous to the Revolt. The mode in which the Marquis of Dalhousie
treated these matters, in his minute of 1856, has already been adverted
to; but it may be well to repeat his words here, to shew the exact state
of Delhi palace-politics at that time. ‘Seven years ago [that is, in
1849], the heir-apparent to the King of Delhi died. He was the last of
the race who had been born in the purple. The Court of Directors was
accordingly advised to decline to recognise any other heir-apparent, and
to permit the kingly title to fall into abeyance upon the death of the
present king, who even then was a very aged man. The Honourable Court
accordingly conveyed to the government of India authority to terminate
the dynasty of Timour, whenever the reigning king should die. But as it
was found that, although the Honourable Court had consented to the
measure, it had given its consent with great reluctance, I abstained
from making use of the authority which had been given to me. The
grandson of the king was recognised as heir-apparent; but only on
condition that he should quit the palace in Delhi, in order to reside in
the palace at the Kootub; and that he should, as king, receive the
governor-general of India at all times on terms of perfect equality.’ It
was therefore simply a suspension of the absolute extinction of the
kingly title at Delhi: a suspension dictated, apparently, by the
existence of a little more hesitation in the court of directors, than in
the bold governor-general.
The king who occupied the nominal throne of Delhi at the time of the
Revolt was neither better nor worse than the average of his
predecessors. A pensioned prince with no responsibilities, he was a true
Oriental sensualist, and had become an almost imbecile old man between
eighty and ninety years of age. Nevertheless, for the reasons already
more than once stated, he was invested with a certain greatness in the
eyes of the natives of Hindostan; and Delhi was still their great city.
Hindoos, Afghans, Patans, Seljuks, Rajpoots, Tatars, Moguls, Persians,
Rohillas, Mahrattas, Sikhs—all had left their impress upon the capital;
and with one or other of these, the millions of India had sympathies
either of race or of creed. Even to the hour of the outbreak, the king
was approached with the reverence due to royalty. In the ruined paradise
of Oriental sensualism, the great palace of Delhi, ‘the house of
Tamerlane still revelled in unchecked vileness. The royal family,
consisting of many hundreds—idle, dissolute, shameless, too proud or too
effeminate for military service—lived in entire dependence on the king’s
allowance. For their amusement were congregated from all India the most
marvellous jugglers, the most cunning bird-tamers and snake-charmers,
the most fascinating dancing-girls, the most skilled Persian musicians.
Though the population was exactly balanced between Mohammedans and
Hindoos, it was the Moslem who here reigned supreme.’[8]
[Illustration:
HOWDAH OF AN INDIAN PRINCE.
]
-----
Footnote 7:
When General Nott returned to India after his victorious campaign in
Afghanistan in 1842, he brought away with him the gates of Somnauth,
which, according to the tradition, had remained at Ghiznee since the
days of Mahmoud. This and other trophies gave occasion to an address
from Lord Ellenborough to the native princes of India, conceived in
somewhat bombastic language, in which the recapture of the gates was
characterised as an achievement ‘avenging the insult of eight hundred
years.’ The chiefs and princes of Sirhind, Rajwarra, Malwah, and
Gujarat, were enjoined to transmit, ‘with all honour,’ the gates to
Somnauth. The address was much ridiculed in England; but those on the
spot believed it to be calculated to make an impression on the
natives. The home government, however, would not permit the gates—even
if the genuine sandal-wood originals, which is not free from doubt—to
be sent to the still-existing temple of Somnauth; they considered such
an act would identify the Company injuriously with one of the two
great parties of religionists in India, and deeply offend the other.
[Illustration:
King of Delhi.
]
CHAPTER V.
THE EVENTFUL ESCAPES FROM DELHI.
Remembering that in the month of May 1857 there was a very aged king
living in the great palace at Delhi; that the heir-apparent, his
grandson, resided in the palace of Kootub Minar, eight or nine miles
from the city; that the Moslem natives still looked up to the king with
a sort of reverence; and that his enormous family had become
dissatisfied with the prospective extinction of the kingly power and
name—remembering these facts, the reader will be prepared to follow the
fortunes of the Meerut mutineers, and to understand on what grounds the
support of the royal family was counted upon.
The distance to be passed over being forty miles, it was not till the
day after the outbreak at Meerut—namely, the 11th of May—that the three
mutinous regiments reached Delhi. The telegraphic wires were so soon
cut, and the dâks so effectually interrupted, that it is doubtful at
what hour, and to what extent, the transactions at Meerut became known
to Brigadier Graves, who commanded at Delhi. The position of that
officer was well calculated to produce uneasiness in his mind at a time
of insubordination and distrust; for he had no European regiments with
him. The garrison consisted of the 38th, 54th, and 74th native
regiments, and a battery of native artillery; the English comprised only
a few officers and sergeants of those regiments, the various servants of
the Company, and private traders within the city. The 54th and 74th had
not up to that time shewn any strong symptoms of disaffection; but the
38th, which had achieved a kind of triumph over the Marquis of Dalhousie
in 1852, in reference to the proposed expedition to Pegu, had ever since
displayed somewhat of a boastful demeanour, a pride of position and
influence. The three regiments and the artillery had their regular
quarters in the cantonment, about two miles north of the city: sending
into Delhi such companies or drafts as were necessary to man the
bastions, towers, magazine, &c. As the river Hindoun, a tributary to the
Jumna, crosses the Meerut and Delhi road near Furrucknuggur, about ten
miles from Delhi, it might be a fair problem whether the mutineers could
have been met and frustrated at the crossing of that river: the solution
of this problem, however, would necessarily depend partly on the time
available, and partly on the prudence of marching the Delhi force across
the Jumna at such a period, placing a broad river between the brigadier
and a city likely to be readily affected by notions of disaffection.
Whether influenced by want of time, want of due information, or by
strategical reasons, no such movement was made by him. The mutineers
would obviously cross the Jumna by the bridge of boats, and would then
pass southwestward into the city, or northwestward towards the
cantonment, or possibly both. A necessity arose, therefore, for adopting
defensive measures in two different quarters; and as the non-military
portion of the European inhabitants, especially women and children,
would be a source of much anxiety at such a time, the brigadier made
arrangements to accommodate them, or some of them, in the Flagstaff
Tower, a strong circular brick building on the heights near the
cantonment, a mile and a half north of the nearest or Cashmere Gate of
the city. The military commandant ordered out his regiments, drew forth
his guns, and delivered a pithy address, in which he exhorted the sepoys
to stand true to their colours, and repel the mutineers as soon as they
should appear. His address was received with cheers, the insincerity of
which was soon to be made manifest.
So many Europeans were cut and shot down at Delhi on this day of misery,
and so precipitate was the escape of others, that not one single person
was in a position to give a connected narrative of the dismal work.
Startling, indeed, were the sights and the sounds which riveted the
attention of the European inhabitants on this morning. A peaceful Sunday
had passed over in its ordinary way; for none knew what were the deeds
being perpetrated at Meerut. The native troops, it is true, were to some
extent cognizant of that movement, for the insurgents had unquestionably
arranged the outlines of a plan; and some of the European officers at
Delhi had observed, not without uneasiness, a change in the behaviour of
the sepoys at that station; nevertheless, to the Europeans generally,
this social avalanche was a wholly unexpected visitation. Resistance was
needed from those too powerless to resist effectually; and flight was
the only resource for many too weak, too young, too sick, to bear up
under such a necessity. All the letters, since made public, relating to
the sad events of that day, tend to shew how little the European
inhabitants of Delhi looked forward to such scenes. One lady, after a
hurried retreat, said: ‘We can hardly ourselves believe how we escaped.
The way in which poor helpless men, women, and children were slaughtered
without a moment’s warning was most dreadful. We were surprised on the
morning of the 11th of May (baby’s birthday) by a party of mutineers
from Meerut.’ It is evident that ‘baby’s birthday’ had dawned with much
happier thoughts in the poor mother’s mind, than were destined to remain
there. Another lady, with her husband and child, were just about to
leave Delhi for Calcutta; their dâk-passage was paid, and their
travelling arrangements nearly completed. Suddenly a messenger hastened
to their home to announce that the Meerut mutineers had crossed the
bridge, and were within the city walls; and very soon afterwards,
fearful sights told them that immediate escape was the only mode of
saving their lives. So it was all over the city; terror and blood began
the week, instead of peace and commerce.
The train of circumstances, as we have just said, having involved either
the death or the hasty flight of nearly all the English within the city
and the cantonment, it follows that the narrative of the day’s ruthless
work must be constructed from materials derived from various quarters,
each supplying some of the links. When Major Abbott of the 74th found
himself, on the next day, the senior officer among those who escaped to
Meerut, he deemed it his duty to write an account to Major-general
Hewett of the proceedings, so far as his sad tale could tell them. With
this we begin.
The city, according to Major Abbott’s narrative, was entered first by a
small number of the mutinous 3d native cavalry, who crossed by the
bridge of boats. While proceeding westward, they were met by a wing of
the 54th native infantry, under the command of Colonel Ripley. But here
a serious symptom at once presented itself; the 54th excused themselves
from firing on the mutineers, on the plea of their muskets not being
loaded; the guard of the 38th native infantry likewise refused, on some
pretence, to fire; and thus the insurgents were enabled to enter the
city by the Cashmere Gate. Captain Wallis, the field-officer of the
week, on ordering the men of the mainguard at the gate to wheel up and
fire, was met by insulting jeers; and he only desisted from importuning
them when he found the work of death going on in other quarters. Six
British officers of the 54th speedily fell, either killed or
wounded—namely, Colonel Ripley, Captains Smith and Burrowes, Lieutenants
Edwardes, Waterfield, and Butler. Major Abbott, willing to hope that his
own regiment, the 74th, was still faithful, hastened to the cantonment,
got as many of his men together as he could, and explained to them that
the time was come to shew their fidelity as true soldiers: he announced
his intention to go down to the Cashmere Gate, and called for volunteers
to follow him. All for a while went favourably; the men stepped up to
the front, loaded promptly, and marched off briskly after the major. On
arriving at the Cashmere Gate, the 74th took possession of the
mainguard, drawn up in readiness to receive any attack that might be
made. Affairs remained quiet near that gate until towards three o’clock,
when a heavy firing of guns, followed by a terrific explosion, announced
that fighting had been going on near the magazine, and that a vast store
of ammunition had been blown into the air. Whether this explosion had
been caused by friends or enemies was not at first known; but the news
soon spread abroad that a gallant artillery-officer, Lieutenant
Willoughby, had adopted this terrible mode of preventing an enormous
supply of warlike material from falling into the hands of the
insurgents.
Before proceeding with the narrative of events in the city, it will be
necessary to describe more particularly the occurrence last adverted to.
There were two magazines, one near the cantonment, and a much larger and
more important one in the city. It was the last named that became the
scene of such desperate work. This magazine was an enclosure of
considerable size, about midway between the Selimgurh Fort and the
Cashmere Gate, almost close to the British residency. As a storehouse
filled with a greater quantity of guns, gunpowder, and ammunition, than
any other place in India, a struggle for its possession between the
British and the insurgents became inevitable: hence it arose that the
destruction of the magazine was an achievement worthy of record, no less
for its vast importance in relation to the ultimate fate of the city,
than for the cool heroism that marked its planning and execution. The
magazine contained no less than three hundred guns and mortars, twenty
thousand stand of arms, two hundred thousand shot and shell, and other
warlike stores. Lieutenant Willoughby was himself too severely wounded
by the explosion to write; but the details of this gallant affair have
been very exactly given by Lieutenant G. Forrest, who was
assistant-commissary of ordnance in Delhi at the time. Between seven and
eight o’clock in the morning of this eventful day, Sir Theophilus
Metcalfe, one of the civil servants of the Company, residing between the
city and the cantonment, came to the lieutenant, and requested him to go
to the magazine for the purpose of planting two guns on the bridge, as a
means of barring the passage of the mutineers. Arrived at the magazine,
they met Lieutenants Willoughby and Raynor, and several officers and
privates of the ordnance establishment. The three principals went to the
small bastion on the river-face, commanding a full view of the bridge;
there they could distinctly see the mutineers marching in open columns,
headed by their cavalry; and they also saw that the Delhi side of the
bridge was already in the possession of a smaller body of horse. Any
attempt to close or guard the city-gates was found to be too late; for
the mutineers were admitted, with great cheering, into the gate of the
palace. Lieutenant Willoughby, seeing the critical state of affairs,
returned quickly to the magazine, closed and barricaded the gates, and
prepared for defence. Conductor Crow and Sergeant Stewart were placed
near one of the gates, with lighted matches in their hands, in command
of two six-pounders double-charged with grape, which they were ordered
to fire if any attempt were made to force the gate from without. The
principal gate of the magazine was similarly defended by two guns, with
_chevaux-de-frise_ laid down on the inside. There were five other
six-pounders, and a twenty-four pounder howitzer, quickly placed at such
spots as might render them more readily available for defence—all
double-loaded with grape-shot. A more doubtful task was that of arming
the native artillerymen or ordnance servants within the magazine; for
they were in a state, not only of excitement, but of insubordination,
much more inclined to aid the assailants without than the defenders
within. This arming being effected so far as was practicable, a train of
gunpowder was laid down from the magazine to a distant spot; and it was
agreed that, on Lieutenant Willoughby giving the order, Conductor
Buckley should raise his hat as a signal to Conductor Scully to fire the
train and blow up the magazine with all its contents. Having done all
that a cool and circumspect leader could do to prepare for the worst,
Lieutenant Willoughby awaited the issue. Very soon, mutinous sepoys—or
rather the palace guards, who had not until that hour been mutinous—came
and demanded possession of the magazine, _in the name of the King of
Delhi_! No answer being vouchsafed to this demand, scaling-ladders were
sent from the palace, and placed against the wall of the magazine. This
decided the wavering of the native artillerymen; they all as with one
accord deserted, climbed up to the sloping roofs on the inside of the
magazine, and descended the ladders to the outside. The insurgents now
appearing in great numbers on the top of the walls, the little band of
Europeans commenced a brisk fire of grape-shot, which worked much
mischief among the enemy; although only nine in number, they kept
several hundred men at bay. At last, the stock of grape at hand was
exhausted, and the beleaguered garrison was shot at instead of shooting:
seeing that none could run to the storehouses for more grape-shot
without leaving to the mutineers freedom of entry by leaping from the
walls. Two of the small number being wounded, and the impossibility of
longer holding out being apparent, Lieutenant Willoughby gave the
signal; whereupon Conductor Scully instantly fired the train. An awful
explosion followed, amid the din and confusion of which, all who were
not too much injured made their way out of the sally-port, to escape in
the best manner they could. What was the number of insurgents killed and
wounded by the grape-shot discharges and by the explosion, no one knew;
some of the English officers estimated it at more than a thousand. It
was at the time hoped by the authorities that the whole of the vast
store of ammunition had been blown into the air, beyond the reach of the
mutineers; but subsequent events shewed that the destruction was not so
complete.[9]
To return to the agitating scenes within the city. Major Abbott,
immediately on hearing of the explosion at the magazine, found himself
placed in a painful position: urged to different courses by different
persons, and doubtful how long his own regiment would remain faithful.
He was requested by the commandant to send back two guns to the
cantonment, as a means of defence; while, on the other hand, he was
entreated by Major Paterson, and by the civil collector who had charge
of the treasury, to retain his small force for guarding the various
government establishments within the city. Major Abbott listened to this
latter suggestion for a time, but then made arrangements for sending off
the two guns to the cantonment. By this time, however, he found it was
of little consequence what orders he gave: the native troops were fast
getting beyond his control. The two guns, and some men of the 38th
regiment, returned; the gunners had deserted on the road, and the guns
had therefore been brought back again. A few of the native officers who
were still faithful now importuned him to leave the city as soon as
possible; he at first interpreted their request as an advice to hasten
to defend the cantonment; but soon found that it bore relation to his
own safety. Presently he heard shots whizzing in the mainguard. He asked
what they meant, and was told: ‘The 38th are shooting the European
officers.’ He then ordered about a hundred of his men to hasten with him
to the rescue; but they replied: ‘Sir, it is useless. They are all
killed by this time, and we shall not save any one. We have saved you,
and we are happy; we will not allow you to go back and be murdered.’ The
history of the Revolt presented many such incidents as this; in every
native regiment there were some men who wished to remain faithful, and
some officers who were favourites among them. The sepoys formed a ring
round the major, and hurried him on foot along the road leading to the
cantonment. He stopped some time at the quarter-guard, and sent a
messenger to the saluting tower to obtain information of the proceedings
in other parts of the city.
The sun was now setting, and evening approaching, giving omen of a night
of danger and difficulty. Major Abbott espied two or three carriages
belonging to officers of his own regiment, going northward on the road
to Kurnaul; and on inquiry, he was told by the men at the quarter-guard:
‘Sir, they are leaving the cantonment; pray follow their example. We
have protected you so far; but it will be impossible for us to do so
much longer. Pray fly for your life!’ Willing as he was to remain at his
post to the last, the major felt that the men around him were so far
faithful as to deserve credence for what they had just uttered; and that
his own life, if now taken, would be sacrificed without in any way
contributing towards the retention of Delhi in British hands. He
therefore replied: ‘Very well; I am off to Meerut. Bring the colours;
and let me see as many of you at Meerut as are not inclined to become
traitors.’ Major Abbott and Captain Hawkey now mounted one horse and
started off after the carriages. They overtook some guns going the same
road; but after a progress of four miles, the drivers refused to go any
further, and insisted on driving the guns back again to Delhi. The
officers, thus entirely deserted by the native troops, having no
European troops with or near them, and being powerless to effect any
good, rode or drove off to seek safety in other directions.
Major Abbott afterwards learned at what point in the day’s proceedings
his own regiment, the 74th, first broke out in mutiny. As soon as the
explosion of the magazine was heard, he ordered Captain Gordon to take a
company with him, to see whether he could render any aid in that
quarter; the captain found, however, not only that his aid would be
useless, but that his men exhibited great unwillingness to move.
Somewhat later, several officers of the 74th were about to march out
with a detachment, when a ball whistled among them: Captain Gordon fell
dead. Another ball was heard, and Lieutenant Revely was laid low. It now
became a matter of life and death: each officer, without any imputation
of selfishness, looking after his own safety. Among others, Ensign Elton
made for the bastion of the fort, jumped over the parapet, descended
into the ditch, clambered up the counterscarp on the other side, ran
across the country to the cantonment, and then followed the road which
many of the other officers had taken. Captain Tytler, Captain Nicoll,
and some others, went towards Kurnaul; Major Abbott, Captains Hawkey and
Wallace, Lieutenant Aislabie, Ensign Elton, and Farrier-sergeant Law,
took the Kurnaul road for some distance, and then struck off on the
right to Meerut, where they arrived at eight o’clock in the evening of
Tuesday the 12th—thirty-six hours after the mutineers from Meerut had
reached Delhi.
[Illustration:
Escape from Delhi.
]
After stating that almost all the European inhabitants of Delhi had been
murdered, except those who had at once been able to effect their escape,
Major Abbott thus expressed the opinion which he formed during these two
days of terrible excitement, concerning the successive steps of the
mutiny at Delhi: ‘From all I could glean, there is not the slightest
doubt that this insurrection has been originated and matured in the
palace of the King of Delhi, with his full knowledge and sanction, in
the mad attempt to establish himself in the sovereignty of this country.
It is well known that he has called on the neighbouring states to
co-operate with him in thus trying to subvert the existing government.
The method he adopted appears to have been to gain the sympathy of the
38th light infantry, by spreading the lying reports now going through
the country, of the government having it in contemplation to upset their
religion, and have them all forcibly inducted to Christianity. The 38th,
by insidious and false arguments, quietly gained over the 54th and 74th
native infantry, each being unacquainted with the other’s real
sentiments. I am perfectly persuaded that the 54th and 74th were forced
to join the combination by threats that the 38th and 54th would
annihilate the 74th if they refused; or, _vice versâ_, that the 38th and
74th would annihilate the 54th. I am almost convinced that had the 38th
not been on guard at the Cashmere Gate, the results would have been very
different; the men of the 74th would have shot down every man who had
the temerity to assail the post.’ It may be that this officer, anxious
to lessen the dishonour of his own regiment, viewed somewhat too
partially the relative merits of the native troops; but it is
unquestionable that the 74th remained faithful much longer than the
38th. To what extent the King of Delhi was really implicated, neither
Major Abbott nor any other Englishman could at that time correctly tell.
It was not during the dire confusion of this terrible day that the
course of events in the streets and buildings of Delhi could be fully
known. The facts came to light one by one afterwards. When the 3d Bengal
troopers, who preceded the mutinous infantry in the march from Meerut,
arrived at the Jumna about seven in the morning, they killed the
toll-keeper of the bridge of boats, took the money found in his office,
and crossed the bridge. Arrived in Delhi, they hastened to the royal
palace, where they made some sort of announcement of their arrival and
its purport. Mr Simon Fraser, the commissioner for Delhi, Captain
Douglas, his assistant, and one or two other officials, hearing of this
movement, and seeing the approach of insurgent infantry on the other
side of the river, hastened to the palace to watch the conduct of the
royal personages at such a suspicious time. No sooner did they enter the
palace precincts, however, than they were shot down. Shortly afterwards,
the Rev. Mr Jennings, chaplain of the residency, was killed; as were
likewise his daughter and another lady near him—after, it is to be
feared, atrocities worse than death. It was seen that the insurgent
troopers were in a state of the greatest excitement and fury, as if they
had worked themselves up, by indulgence in the intoxicating _bang_, to a
level with their terrible plans. While the military operations, already
noticed, were going on at the Cashmere Gate, the magazine, and the
cantonment, all the ruffians of Delhi and the neighbouring villages,
eager for _loot_ or plunder, joined the insurgents. Every European
residence was searched: the troopers and sepoys seeking the lives of the
inmates; while the rabble followed, and swept off every shred of
property. Bungalows were fired one by one, until glaring sheets of flame
were visible in every direction. Bands of Goojurs—a kind of Hindoo gipsy
tribe—were lying in wait after nightfall all along the line of road
twenty miles out of Delhi, on the watch for refugees. It was a day of
jubilee for all the miscreants; they did not stay their hands when the
Europeans had been pillaged, but attacked the houses of all the Hindoo
bankers, carrying off great treasure. Some of the Europeans concealed
themselves for a time within the palace gardens—a vain refuge, for they
were all detected, tied to trees in a row, and shot or sabred by the
mutineers. Many of the troopers, during the savage scenes of these days,
pointed to the marks of manacles on their ankles; they were of the
eighty-five who had been put in irons at Meerut on the preceding
Saturday; and they now shewed how deep was the revenge which they
intended to take for that degrading punishment. The military officers
and their families were, from various causes, those whose fate became
more publicly known; but the number of civil servants, Christians of
humble grade, and half-castes, put to death, was very great. The
bank-clerks, with their wives and children, were murdered; and similar
scenes occurred at most of the public offices.
Mr Farrington, deputy-commissioner, when at Jullundur two or three weeks
afterwards, received a written account from a native of the occurrences
at Delhi during the days immediately following the Revolt—an account
considered worthy of credence. A part of this narrative comprised the
following sad tale: ‘On the third day they [the mutineers] went to a
house near the mosque where some Europeans had taken refuge. As they
were without water, &c., they called for a subadar and five others, and
asked them to take their oaths that they would give them water, and take
them alive to the king: he might kill them, if he liked. On this oath,
the Europeans came out: the mutineers placed water before them, and
said: “Lay down your arms, and then you get water.” They gave over two
guns, all they had. The mutineers gave no water. They seized eleven
children—among them infants—eight ladies, and eight gentlemen. They took
them to the cattle-sheds. One lady, who seemed more self-possessed than
the rest, observed that they were not taking them to the palace; they
replied they were taking them by the way of Duryagunge (one of the gates
on the river-side of the city). Deponent says that he saw all this, and
saw them placed in a row and shot. One woman entreated to give her child
water, though they might kill her. A sepoy took her child, and dashed it
on the ground. The people looked on in dismay, and feared for Delhi.’
The imagination can, too truly, alas! fill up the deficient incidents in
this tale of treachery. Mr Farrington deemed his informant worthy of
reliance. He said: ‘The man has been with me. He speaks frankly, and
without fear. He is able, evidently, to narrate many a harrowing tale;
but I did not wish to hear any. He seemed really to recall with dismay
what he had witnessed.’
The aged but wretched king of Delhi—wretched in having the hopes of
earlier years revived, only to be crushed again—for a time distrusted
the mutineers; he entertained misgivings that all might not end well.
The shops and bazaars were being plundered; the king was in the palace;
and some of those around him urged that order could be restored only by
his assumption of the imperial purple. After three or four days, he went
in a kind of state through the city, advising or commanding the people
to re-open their shops, and resume their former commercial
dealings—advice more easily given than acted upon; for the devastation
had been terrible, striking grief into the more peaceful portion of the
native inhabitants. The king assumed command in the city; he named Mirza
Mogul commander-in-chief, and gave the title of general of cavalry to
Mirza Abu Bukur; he collected around him eight or nine thousand
mutineers and volunteers, who were posted at the several gates of the
city, or cantoned in the Duryagunge Bazaar. Additional guns were placed
on the ramparts; and the native sappers and miners were placed in
command of the cannon in the old fort of Selimgurh. The Company’s
treasury, one of the largest in India, is said to have been respected by
the mutineers to this extent—that they did not appropriate it among
themselves as spoil, but guarded it as belonging to their newly chosen
leader, the King of Delhi. To shew how perplexed the Calcutta government
must have been at the first news of these events, it may be mentioned
that the king’s name was adverted to as that of a friend rather than an
enemy. On the 14th of May, three days after the arrival of the Meerut
mutineers at Delhi, Mr Colvin, lieutenant-governor of the Northwest
Provinces, telegraphed from Agra to the governor-general as follows: ‘We
have authentic intelligence in a letter from the king that the town and
fort of Delhi, _and his own person_, are in the hands of the insurgent
regiments of the place, which joined about one hundred of the troops
from Meerut and opened the gates.’ Judged by the ordinary rules of
probability, it would appear that the mutineers first secured the person
of the king, and then compelled him to head them: the old man being
further urged by the entreaties and threats of his intriguing sons and
grandsons. It is difficult, under any other supposition, to account for
his transmission of a message of information and warning to the chief
British authority in those regions. On the 15th Mr Colvin sent a further
telegraphic communication to Calcutta, containing this information: ‘The
rebels have declared the heir-apparent king. They are apparently
organising the plan of a regular government; they still remain in the
place. Their policy is supposed to be to annex the adjoining districts
to their newly formed kingdom. They are not likely, therefore, to
abandon the country or leave Delhi; they have probably strengthened
themselves there. They may have secured fifty lacs of rupees [half a
million sterling].’ No further mention was here made of the old man; it
was a younger relation who had been set up as king; and this younger
prince may possibly have been the one whom the Marquis of Dalhousie had
insisted should be the heir-apparent, with such prospective limitations
of authority as the Company might hereafter declare to be expedient. The
ordinary motives which influence men’s conduct would be quite strong
enough to induce this prince to avail himself of any accidental or
unexpected means of insuring the crown without the limitations here
adverted to. Ambition was almost the only sentiment not absolutely
degrading left to the pensioned, sensual, intriguing dwellers in the
palace.
The details of this chapter have hitherto been confined chiefly to the
course of events within the city—as collected from the dispatches of
military officers, the letters from commissioners and other civil
servants of the Company, and the published statements of Europeans who
survived the dangers of the day. But we now come to adventures which,
politically of less importance, touch more nearly the hearts and
sympathies of those who would know how Englishmen, and more particularly
Englishwomen, bore up against the accumulated miseries that pressed upon
them. We have to accompany the fugitives to the fields and jungles, the
ditches and rivers, the swampy marshes and scorching sandy roads; we
have to see how they contended against privation and trial—on their way
forty miles in one direction towards Meerut, or eighty miles in another
towards Kurnaul. Many of the narratives of the fugitives, afterwards
made public, supply details not furnished in any official dispatches;
while they illustrate many points worth knowing—among others, the
greater hostility of the Mohammedan than the Hindoo natives near Delhi,
and the indications of individual kindness in the midst of general
brutality. A selection from these narratives will suffice for the
present purpose, shortened and thrown into a different form so as to
throw light on each other, and on the general events of the day. In most
cases, the names of the fugitives, especially of ladies, will be
withheld, from a motive which a considerate reader will easily
appreciate. This scruple must not, however, be interpreted as affecting
the authenticity of the narratives, which was verified only too
abundantly by collateral evidence.
We select first a family of three fugitives to Kurnaul. The wife of an
officer of the 54th native regiment, in the forenoon of this eventful
Monday, hastened with her child to the Flagstaff Tower; where, in
accordance with the advice of the brigadier-commandant, many other
families had assembled. The gentlemen remained outside on guard; the
ladies assisted in loading the guns, and in other services towards the
common defence of all. Here they remained many hours, in all the horrors
of suspense; for the husbands and fathers of many were away, and their
fate unknown. At length came the news that the 38th had openly revolted;
that none of the native regiments at Delhi could now be depended upon;
and that the inmates of the tower ought to effect their escape as
speedily as possible. There had been one company of the 38th at the
Flagstaff Tower all day; and as the building was very strong, and armed
with two guns, the brigadier long deemed himself able to protect the
numerous persons there assembled; but as soon as the defection of the
main body of this regiment became known, all reliance on the smaller
corps was at an end. Such carriages and horses as could be obtained were
immediately put in requisition, and various parties hastened off, mostly
northward on the Kurnaul road. The small group whom we have here under
notice—namely, the officer with his wife and child, reached Kurnaul the
next day; but danger was all around, and the fugitives were forced to
continue their flight, as soon as they could obtain means of conveyance.
It is touching to read how ‘baby’ occupied the mother’s thoughts through
all this agitating escape. During a sojourn at a place called
Thwanessur, on the road between Kurnaul and Umballa, they stopped at the
assistant-commissioner’s house. ‘Before we had rested two hours we were
alarmed by being told that a regiment of sepoys was come to attack us;
we had to fly from the house and hide as best we could, under the
bushes, &c., in the garden; and I kept dear baby in my own arms the
whole time until morning.’ The alarm proved to be false, and the
fugitives proceeded. They arrived safely at Umballa on the morning of
Thursday the 14th, having left Delhi on Monday evening. That the brave
wife was ‘quite fatigued and worn out’ may well be conceived when she
adds, ‘for dear baby had never left me since we left Delhi.’
[Illustration:
Delhi from Flagstaff Tower.
]
This adventure, however, was far exceeded in length, in privation, in
strange situations, in hair-breadth escapes, by one which befell a party
of four persons—an officer of the 38th regiment, an army surgeon, and
their two wives: all of whom, in the wilderness of confusion, sought the
Kurnaul route rather than that to Meerut. These ladies were among the
many who sought refuge in the Flagstaff Tower. There they had the pain
of witnessing the sufferings of poor Colonel Ripley, who, as already
narrated, had been bayoneted by men of his own regiment, and had been
brought thither for succour; they tended him as women only can tend the
sick; but their ministrations were of brief avail. After hours of
suspense, in which small hope was mingled with large despair, the
necessity for escape became obvious. A little bitterness is expressed,
in the narratives of some of the fugitives, concerning the delay in
making any preparations for the escape of the women and children; and a
few of the head officers are blamed for supineness; but those who suffer
are not always, at the time, the best judges of the cause of their
sufferings. When evening approached, many of the native coachmen drove
away the vehicles belonging to the Europeans, and appropriated them,
thus leaving the women and children in dreadful perplexity how to reach
Kurnaul or Meerut. The two Englishwomen whose narrative we now follow
were among the last of those who left the city, when evening was
approaching. They were in a buggy, but had been parted from their
husbands during the confusion of the arrangements for departure, and one
of them had lost her little child. They drove on, with no male
protector, across rugged fields, fearful of the high road: treated
sometimes respectfully by the natives, but at other times robbed and
vilely addressed. Even the velvet head-dress of one of them was torn
off, for the value of the bugles that adorned it. A jewel-box had been
brought away in haste, as the only treasure preserved; and it became
every hour more uncertain whether this would be a prey to the spoilers.
Returning to the high road, the ladies met some gunners with two guns;
and as the men told them certain death would be the result if they took
the road to Kurnaul, they drove in another direction to the Company’s
garden outside Delhi. Here, marauding was everywhere going on; the poor
ladies soon had the misery of seeing their carriage, horse, jewel-box,
and most of their outer clothing reft from them. In the dead of the
night they ventured to a neighbouring village. The surgeon, husband to
one of the ladies, here managed to join them; but being enfeebled by
previous sickness, and wounded in the jaw during the day’s exciting
troubles, he was powerless as a defender, and—far from being able to
succour others—needed succour himself. During the next fifteen hours
were these three persons hiding in fields and huts, befriended by a few
natives, and conscious that roving sepoys were near, ready for murder or
pillage. Sallying forth again on the evening of Tuesday, they were
speedily stopped by six men, who robbed them of a further portion of
their scanty apparel, and only stopped short of murder when the
officer’s wife pleaded for mercy, on the ground that she was searching
for her husband and her child, both of whom had gone she knew not
whither. The three fugitives walked all that night, the wounded surgeon
dragging himself along. In the morning they were again accosted, and
only escaped death by the ladies yielding up a further part of their
attire, the only property they had left to give. During the remainder of
that day they crept on, obtaining a little food and water from some
villagers, who were, however, too much afraid of the sepoys to afford
the fugitives the shelter of a roof; and it was terrible work indeed to
roam along the roads with a burning sun overhead and burning sand under
foot. They sat down by a well-side, and drank some water; but rude
fellows accosted them, and after insulting the hapless women, compelled
them to withdraw. They next encountered a party of irregular horse, who
had not yet joined the mutineers; the men were at first inclined to
befriend them; but fears of the consequences supervening, they soon
deserted the fugitives. Here were these two Englishwomen, gently
nurtured, and accustomed to all the amenities of good society, again
compelled to wander like miserable outcasts, helping along a male
companion whose under-jaw had been shattered, and who was otherwise in a
weak state. They crawled on during another night, and then reached a
village, which, as they saw it was Hindoo, they did not scruple to
enter. Kindness was accorded to them for one whole day; after which the
humane natives, timid lest the sepoys should burn their village if they
heard of Feringhees having been harboured, declared they could no longer
afford shelter. Once more, therefore, were the fugitives driven forth:
having seen renewed symptoms that the sepoys, or rather the marauding
ruffians, would not scruple to murder them, if opportunity offered. They
had now been five days wandering about, and yet were only ten miles
distant from Delhi: so completely had each day’s plans been frustrated
by the events of the next day. Again they entered a friendly village,
and again were they compelled soon to depart, after receiving simple but
kind assistance. No villagers, it was found, were free from dread at
having assisted a Feringhee. Once they hid for shelter under a bridge;
but an armed ruffian detected them, and behaved so unbearably towards
the women that the surgeon, who was a Roman Catholic, took a gold cross
from his bosom, and gave it as the price of their freedom from further
molestation: a wounded, shattered, sinking man, he could not offer them
a strong arm as a shield from insult. On the night of the 17th, at a
little more than twenty miles from Delhi, they were glad to obtain the
shelter of an outhouse containing twenty cows, the only roof that the
owner dared to offer them. They made an attempt to have a letter
forwarded to Kurnaul, praying for assistance; but none in those parts
could be depended upon for faithfulness beyond an hour or two: so much
was there of treachery on the one hand, and timidity on the other. On
the 18th they heard that Major Paterson, of the 54th regiment, was in
the same village as themselves; and he, powerless to succour, contrived
to send a short message to them, written with a burnt stick on a piece
of an old broken pan. Shortly afterwards they were greatly astonished,
and not a little delighted, to see an officer, the husband of one of the
ladies, enter the village; but more like a naked savage, blistered from
head to foot, than like an English gentleman.
An eventful tale had this officer to narrate. When the scenes of
violence on the 11th at Delhi had reached such a point that to remain
longer was to meet certain slaughter, he sent off his little boy with
friends towards Meerut, and saw his wife and her lady-companion start
for Kurnaul. After being robbed of his horse, and having three bullets
sent through his hat, and one through the skirt of his coat, he ran past
the blazing houses of the cantonment, and, being ill at the time, sank
down under a tree exhausted. A gang of ruffians found him, stripped him,
robbed him of everything, and endeavoured, Thug-like, to strangle
him—using, however, the sleeve of his own shirt instead of a silken
cord. Happily the choking was only partial; he recovered, staggered on a
mile or two, rested briefly in a hut, and then walked twelve miles to
Alipore in a broiling sun. He obtained a little water, a little bread,
and a few fragments of clothing, but was refused shelter. He wended his
painful way barefoot, keeping to ploughed fields as safer than the high
road, and reached a village where the headman gave him an asylum for
five days. During these days, however, he twice narrowly escaped death
from sepoys prowling about the village. On the sixth he received
information which led him to believe that his wife and her travelling
companions were within six or seven miles of him. He hastened on, with
swollen and blistered feet, wretched substitutes for raiment, and a
frame nearly worn out by sickness and anxiety; but a gleam of joy burst
upon him when at length he overtook the surgeon and the two wives,
though dismayed to see the plight to which they had been reduced. The
poor ladies he found to be, like himself, reft of everything they had in
the world except a few torn and toil-worn fragments of garments. The
surgeon had been less rudely stripped, simply because the clothes of a
wounded man were less acceptable to the spoliators. The fugitives, now
four in number, continued their journey, their feet pierced with thorns
and sharp stones, and the difficulty of carrying or dragging a wounded
man becoming greater and greater. The officer’s wife, having had no
head-covering for many days, felt the sun’s heat to be gradually
affecting her brain; she was thankful when a villager gave her a wet
cloth to bind round her temples. Matters now began to mend; the
villagers were less afraid of the Delhi sepoys; the vicinity of Kurnaul
exhibited less violence and marauding; horses and mules were obtained on
one day to take them to Lursowlie; and on the next a carriage was
provided for their conveyance to Kurnaul. How they got on from Kurnaul
to Umballa, and from Umballa to Simla, need not be told—the romance of
the incident was over when the three fugitives, two women and a wounded
man, were joined by a fourth; although much physical and mental
suffering had still to be endured. The little son of this lady, it was
afterwards found, had been carried by some friends safely to Meerut on
the 12th. The four fugitives, when they reached friendly quarters, were
poor indeed: no beggars could be more completely dependent on the
sympathy of those whom they now happily met.
Next we will follow the steps of some of those who chose Meerut rather
than Kurnaul as their place of refuge. Their adventures partake of a new
interest, because there was a broad and swift river to be crossed. A
young ensign of the 54th regiment, a stripling who had just commenced
military service under the Company, had a sad tale to tell, how the
European officers of his regiment had fallen almost to a man. He was in
the cantonment when the news arrived of the approach of the Meerut
mutineers; his regiment was ordered to hasten to the city; and he, like
other officers, was fain to hope that the men would remain true to their
colours. Leaving two companies to follow with two guns, the other eight
marched off to the city, distant, as has already been stated, about two
miles. Arriving at the mainguard of the Cashmere Gate, the regiment
encountered the mutinous 3d Bengal cavalry, who immediately shot down
nearly all the officers of the eight companies: the men of those
companies shewing, by a refusal to defend their officers, that they were
quite ready for revolt. The colonel, indeed, was bayoneted by one of his
own men after a trooper had shot him. In about half an hour the other
two companies arrived with the two guns; but as the few remaining
officers of the regiment knew not which of their men, if any, could be
depended on, they formed a kind of small fort or citadel of the
mainguard, into which they brought their few remaining companions one by
one. The poor youth, who had just commenced soldiering, and who had
never seen a dead body, was nearly overwhelmed with grief at the sight
of his brother-officers, with whom he had laughed and chatted a few
hours before, lying side by side dead and mutilated. The main body of
the regiment remained sullen, though not mutinous, until about five
o’clock in the evening; but then the spirit of evil seemed to seize
them, and they turned upon the Europeans near them, shooting
indiscriminately. The scene became agonising. Many women and children
had gone to the mainguard for security; and now they as well as the
officers found it necessary to flee for very life. Some ran, leaped,
clomb, until they got beyond the wall of the city; others waited to help
those who were weaker or of more tender years. Some of the ladies,
though wounded, lowered themselves by handkerchiefs into the ditch, from
embrasures in the parapet, and were caught by officers below; and then
ensued the terrible labour of dragging or carrying them up the
counterscarp on the other side of the ditch. (A ditch, in military
matters, be it remembered, is a dry, broad, very deep trench outside a
fortified wall, with nearly vertical sides, called the scarp and
counterscarp.) The young officer tells how that he and his male
companions would have made a dash towards Meerut, sword in hand, or have
sold their lives at once; but that their chief thoughts were now for the
women and children. What were the privations of such a company as this,
in fords and jungles, in hunger and nakedness, we shall presently see by
means of a narrative from another quarter.
It is an officer of the 38th who shall now tell his tale—how that his
own personal troubles, when alone, were slight compared with those which
he had afterwards to bear in company with other fugitive Europeans. This
officer states that, while the refugees were anxiously watching the
course of events at the Flagstaff Tower, they were momentarily expecting
aid from Meerut. They could not believe that Major-general Hewett would
have allowed the mutineers to march from Meerut to Delhi without either
making an attempt to intercept them, or following on their heels; and
their disappointment in this particular led to some of the unfavourable
comments made on that general’s line of conduct. The officer of the
38th, whose narrative is now under notice, shared the difficulty of all
the others in endeavouring to keep the men at their duty; and he speaks
of the terrible sight, more than once adverted to, which met his eye at
the mainguard inside the Cashmere Gate: ‘By the gate, side by side, and
covered by pretty ladies’ dresses taken from some house, as if in
mockery, lay the bodies of poor Captain Smith, Burrowes, Edwardes, and
Waterfield, and the quarter-master-sergeant; some lying calm as shot
dead, and others with an expression of pain, mutilated by bayonets and
swords.’ When all became hopeless within the city, and the brigadier had
given orders to retire, the officers made a show of bringing off their
regiments as well as their families; but it was only a show; for such of
the men as had remained faithful up to this time now fell away, and the
Europeans found themselves compelled to escape as best they could. The
officer hastened to the cantonment, disconsolate and helpless, but
having no immediate idea of escape. With the colonel of the same
regiment, however, he was urged to adopt that course, as the cantonment
itself was now in a blaze. The two ran off in the dead of the night
towards the river, crouching beneath trees when enemies seemed near;
they forded the Jumna Canal, slaking their parched lips as they waded or
swam; and they tore off the brighter parts of their glittering
accoutrements, to prevent betrayal. In the morning, faint and hungered,
they took refuge in a hut while a body of sepoys was searching around,
as if for victims. A few Hindoo peasants discovering them, told them
where they could hide in a tope of trees, and brought them chupatties
and milk. Being able to ford across a narrow branch of the Jumna soon
afterwards, they concealed themselves in the wild jungle; and there, to
their joy and surprise, they found others of their friends in the same
kind of concealment—joy damped, it is true, at the thought of educated
English men and women crouching among long jungle-grass like savages or
wild beasts. On counting numbers, they found they were thirteen, eight
gentlemen and five ladies and children; and as they had several guns and
swords among them, they took heart, and prepared to struggle against
further difficulties.
To bring up the two parallel threads of the story, the escapes of the
larger party, comprising the women and little ones, must now be told. In
the afternoon of the preceding day, after arrangements had been made for
conveying the ladies on gun-carriages from the city to the cantonment,
the natives who had been trusted with this duty turned faithless, and
the Europeans within the Cashmere Gate, finding themselves shot at,
sought to escape beyond the walls in any way they could. One after
another, women and children as well as men, leaped over into the ditch,
scrambled up the other side, and ran off towards the house of Sir T.
Metcalfe. One lady, the mother of three daughters who had to share in
the flight, was shot through the shoulder, yet still kept on. The native
servants—in the absence of their master, who afterwards had his own tale
to tell of jungle-life and narrow escapes—gave them a little food; but
just before the house was about being fired by the insurgents, the
fugitives left it, and succeeded in fording the narrow stream to the
spot mentioned above. When the thirteen had told their adventures, and
formed a plan, they started anew, and sought a spot where they could
ford the majestic Jumna. The officer must here tell the story of this
perilous fording: ‘Our hearts failed, and no wonder, where ladies were
concerned, as we looked at the broad swift river. It was getting dark,
too. Two natives went across. We watched them anxiously wade a
considerable portion of the river; then their heads alone appeared above
water. It was our only chance of life, and our brave ladies never
flinched. The water was so deep, that where a tall man would wade, a
short man would be drowned. I thought it was all over when, on reaching
the deep water with Mrs —— on my left arm, a native supporting her on
the other side, we were shot [drifted] down the river; however, by
desperate efforts and the assistance of another native, we reached the
bank in safety. I swam back once more for another of our party; and so
ultimately we all got safe over. It was a brave feat for our ladies to
do.’ But so it was throughout these terrific scenes: the heroism, the
patience, the long-suffering endurance of these gentlewomen, bore up to
the last; feebleness of frame was vanquished by nobility of spirit; and
the men were often kept in heart, though deeply pained, by the
uncomplaining perseverance of their gentle companions in misery. Our
fugitives passed a wretched night after this fording of the Jumna,
crouching in the jungle, with no sound ‘but the chattering of their
teeth.’ The next day threw them into the hands of a large band of
ruffians; and as the guns of the officers had been rendered useless by
wet, the consequence was direful: the whole party were stripped and
robbed, and then left without food, without clothing, without resource,
to wander whither they could. With naked feet, and skins blistering in
the sun, they toiled on. ‘How the ladies stood it,’ says the officer
whose narrative we are following, ‘is marvellous; they never murmured or
flinched, or distressed us by a show of terror.’ Fortunately, a fakeer,
in a Hindoo village, ventured to give them shelter; they remained three
days, obtaining a little food, but nothing more. A German zemindar or
landowner, who had been so long in India as to be hardly distinguishable
from a Hindoo, hearing of their plight, sent for them, gave them some
rough cloth to huddle on as substitutes for garments, and caused a
message to be sent to Meerut, which brought relief to them; and they
reached that town in seven days after leaving Delhi—worn out in mind and
body, haggard, lame, penniless, but thankful that their lives had been
spared.
Strange as these escapes and perils were, they were eclipsed in
individual daring and fertility of resource by one which remains to be
told, and which may form the last of this little group of painful
narratives. Mr Batson, surgeon of the 74th regiment, was unheard of
during so long a time after the events at Delhi on the fatal Monday that
he was given up for lost; but in a letter which he wrote to announce his
safety, he detailed such a series of adventures as appear to belong
rather to romance than to real life—Defoe-like, but entirely true
instead of fictitious. And here it may be again remarked that these
narratives must not be suspected of boastful exaggeration; there were
links which connected all the eventful stories into one chain—each
receiving corroborative strength from the others. Mr Batson states that
when it was found that the three regiments at Delhi refused to act
against the mutineers from Meerut, and that when such of the women and
children as could be collected were placed in the mainguard and the
Flagstaff Tower, he went to Brigadier Graves, volunteering to convey a
letter to Meerut, in hope of obtaining the aid of European troops. His
offer being accepted, he took leave of his wife and three daughters in
the Flagstaff Tower, went to his house, dressed himself like a native
fakeer or mendicant devotee, and coloured his face, hands, and feet. Off
he set on his perilous errand. He first tried to cross the Jumna by the
bridge of boats, but found it broken. Then he ran to the cantonment, and
endeavoured to cross by a ferry near that spot, but found the insurgent
cavalry and the neighbouring villagers plundering and marauding. Next he
hastened across the parade-ground, and, after escaping two or three
shots, was seized by some of the villagers and stripped of every bit of
his fakeer clothing. On he ran again, in his now truly forlorn state,
towards the Kurnaul road, hoping to overtake some of the officers who
were escaping by that route; but before he could do so, two of the
insurgent troopers intercepted him. Just as they were about to cut him
down with their drawn swords, his tact and knowledge saved him. Being
familiar both with the Hindostani language and with the Mohammedan
customs, he threw himself into a supplicating position, and uttered the
most exalted praises of the great Prophet of Islam: begging them to
spare his life for the sake of the Moslem. Had his assailants been
infantry sepoys, he would probably not have attempted this manœuvre, for
most of them were Hindoos; but knowing that the cavalry sowars were
chiefly Mohammedans, he made the venture. It succeeded. Whether they
knew him as a fugitive Englishman, is not certain; but they let him go,
saying: ‘Had you not asked for mercy in the name of the Prophet, you
should have died like the rest of the Kaffirs [infidels].’ After running
another mile—at once shivering with nakedness and burning with
excitement—he encountered some Mussulman villagers, who rushed upon him,
crying: ‘Here is a Feringhee; kill the Kaffir! You Feringhees want to
make us all Christians!’ They dragged him to a village, tied his hands
behind him, and sent one of their number to a house hard by to get a
sword, with which to despatch him. At this critical moment some
excitement—the nature of which Mr Batson could not understand—caused
them all to leave him, and he ran off again. He fortunately fell in with
some smiths who had been employed in the Delhi magazine, and who were
willing to save him; they urged him not to go forward, or the villagers
would certainly murder him. They took him to a hut, gave him an article
or two of apparel, and fed him with milk and bread. He tried to sleep,
but could not; he lay awake all night, restless and excited. In the
morning he bethought him of informing his protectors that he was a
physician, a doctor, a ‘medicine-man;’ and this proved to be an aid to
him; for the villagers, finding that he could answer questions relating
to maladies, and was familiar with their religion, language, and
customs, began to take much interest in the Feringhee doctor. He found
that two officers were in hiding at no great distance, but he could
reach neither of them. To get to Meerut in time to deliver his message
was of course now out of the question: all that Mr Batson could do was
to secure his own safety. More perils were in store for him. The
villagers of Badree were informed that if they harboured any Feringhees,
the now triumphant King of Delhi would direfully punish them; they
became alarmed, and hid him in a small mango tope. ‘Here,’ the surgeon
says, ‘I was left night and day alone. I was visited at night by some
one or other of the villagers, who brought me bread and water in a
ghurrah. I am unable to describe my feelings during this trying time. I
was all day in the sun, in the extreme heat, and alone at night, when
the jackals came prowling about and crying. It is only God and myself
know what I have endured. After five nights and days in this tope of
trees, I was again taken back to the village and concealed in a bhoosa
house. I was here shut in for twenty-four hours; the heat and
suffocation I cannot find language to describe. I do not know which was
the greatest misery, the tope of trees in solitude or the bhoosa
kotree.’ At length the villagers, afraid to keep him any longer,
dismissed him—enabling him to dress himself up again as a fakeer.
Tramping on from village to village, he acted his part so well as to
escape detection. He gave himself out as a Cashmerian; and although one
of the villagers suspected his European origin by his blue eyes, he did
not betray him. He observed from village to village—and the fact is
worthy of note in relation to the causes and details of the Revolt—that
the Mohammedans were much more savage than the Hindoos in their
expressions and threats against the Feringhees. The further he proceeded
from Delhi, the less did Mr Batson find himself involved in danger; and
he was fortunately picked up by Captain M^cAndrews and Lieutenant Mew of
his own regiment. He had been out no less than twenty-five days,
wandering from village to village, from tope to tope; suffering
privations which none but himself could know, and not even he adequately
describe. One great anxiety gnawed him the while—the fate of his family:
one great joy awaited him—his family escaped.
[Illustration:
Elephant and State Howdah.
]
Here this chapter may close. We have seen that on the morning of Monday
the 11th of May, the European inhabitants of Delhi arose from their beds
in peace; and that by the close of the same day there was not a single
individual of the number whose portion was not death, flight, or
terrified concealment. So far as the British rule or influence was
concerned, it was at an end. The natives remained masters of the
situation; their white rulers were driven out; and a reconquest,
complete in all its details, could alone restore British rule in Delhi.
At what time, in what way, and by whom, that reconquest was effected,
will remain to be told in a later portion of this work. Much remains to
be narrated before Delhi will again come under notice.
-----
Footnote 8:
_Quarterly Review_, No. 204.
Footnote 9:
Rightly did the governor-general, when officially informed of this
achievement, speak of ‘the noble and cool soldiership of the gallant
defenders’ of the magazine: ‘The governor-general in council desires
to offer his cordial thanks to Lieutenants Raynor and Forrest, and the
other survivors among the brave men mentioned in this report, and to
express the admiration with which he regards the daring and heroic
conduct of Lieutenant G. D. Willoughby and the warrant and
non-commissioned officers by whom he was supported on that occasion.
Their names are Lieutenants Raynor and Forrest, Conductors Shaw,
Buckley, Scully, Sub-conductor Crow, Sergeants Edwards and Stewart.
The family of the late Conductor Scully, who so devotedly sacrificed
himself in the explosion of the magazine, will be liberally provided
for, should it be ascertained that they have survived him.’
[Illustration:
LUCKNOW.
]
CHAPTER VI.
LUCKNOW AND THE COURT OF OUDE.
Another regal or once-regal family, another remnant of Moslem power in
India, now comes upon the scene—one which has added to the embarrassment
of the English authorities, by arraying against them the machinations of
deposed princes as well as the discontent of native troops; and by
shewing, as the King of Delhi had shewn in a neighbouring region, that a
pension to a sovereign deprived of his dominions is not always a
sufficient medicament to allay the irritation arising from the
deprivation. What and where is the kingdom of Oude; of what rank as an
Indian city is its capital, Lucknow; who were its rulers; why and when
the ruling authority was changed—these matters must be clearly
understood, as a preliminary to the narrative of Sir Henry Lawrence’s
proceedings about the time of the outbreak.
Oude, considered as a province of British India, and no longer as a
kingdom, is bounded on the north and northeast by the territory of
Nepaul; on the east by the district of Goruckpore; on the southeast by
those of Azimghur and Jounpoor; on the south by that of Allahabad; on
the southwest by the districts of the Doab; and on the northwest by
Shahjehanpoor. It is now about thrice the size of Wales; but before the
annexation, Oude as a kingdom included a larger area. On the Nepaul
side, a strip of jungle-country called the Terai, carries it to the base
of the sub-Himalaya range. This Terai is in part a wooded marsh, so
affected by a deadly malaria as to be scarcely habitable; while the
other part is an almost impassable forest of trees, underwood, and
reeds, infested by the elephant, the rhinoceros, the bear, the wild hog,
and other animals. Considered generally, however, Oude surpasses in
natural advantages almost every other part of India—having the Ganges
running along the whole of its southwest frontier, a varied and fertile
soil, a genial though hot climate, and numerous facilities for
irrigation and water-carriage. It cannot, however, be said that man has
duly aided nature in the development of these advantages; for the only
regularly made road in the whole province is that from Lucknow to
Cawnpore: the others being mostly wretched tracks, scarcely passable for
wheel-carriages. The railway schemes of the Company include a line
through Oude, which would be of incalculable benefit; but no definite
contract had been made at the time when the Revolt commenced; nor would
such a railway be profitable until the trunk-line is finished from
Calcutta to Benares and Allahabad. Although the Mohammedans have,
through many ages, held the ruling power in Oude, the Hindoos are
greatly more numerous; and nearly the whole of the inhabitants, five
millions in number, speak the Hindostani language; whereas those nearer
Calcutta speak Bengali. As shewing the kind of houses in which Europeans
occasionally sought concealment during the disturbances, the following
description of the ordinary dwelling-places of Oude may be useful. They
are generally built either of unburnt brick, or of layers of mud, each
about three feet in breadth and one foot high. The roofs are made of
square beams, placed a foot apart, and covered with planks laid
transversely; over these are mats, and a roofing of well-rammed wet clay
half a yard in thickness. The walls are carried to a height six or seven
feet above the upper surface of the roof, to afford a concealed place of
recreation for the females of the family; and during the rainy season
this small elevated court is covered with a slight awning of bamboos and
grass. Though so simply and cheaply constructed, these houses are very
durable. Around the house there is usually a verandah, covered with a
sloping tiled roof. Inside, the beams overhead are exposed to view,
without any ceiling. The floors are of earth, well beaten down and
smoothed, and partially covered with mats or cotton carpets. In the
front of the house is a chabootra or raised platform of earth, open to
the air at the sides, and provided with a roof of tiles or grass
supported on pillars. This platform is a pleasant spot on which
neighbours meet and chat in the cool of the evening. The dwellings of
the wealthy natives of course present an aspect of greater splendour;
while those of the Europeans, in the chief towns, partake of the
bungalow fashion, already described.
There are few towns of any distinction in Oude compared with the area of
the province; and of these few, only two will need to be mentioned in
the present chapter. As for the city whence the province originally
obtained its name—Oude, Oudh, or Ayodha—it has fallen from its
greatness. Prinsep, Buchanan, and other authorities, regard it as the
most ancient, or at any rate one of the most ancient, among the cities
of Hindostan. Some of the coins found in Oude are of such extreme
antiquity, that the characters in which their legends are graven are
totally unknown. Buchanan thinks that the city was built by the first
Brahmins who entered India, and he goes back to a date fourteen hundred
years before the Christian era for its foundation; while Tod and Wilford
claim for Oude an origin even six centuries earlier than that insisted
on by Buchanan. The value of such estimates may not be great; they
chiefly corroborate the belief that Oude is a _very_ ancient city. With
its eight thousand inhabitants, and its mud and thatch houses, the
grandeur of Oude lives in the past; and even this grandeur is in
antiquity rather than in splendour; for the ruins and fragments give a
somewhat mean idea of the very early Hindoo architecture to which they
belong. On the eastern side of the town are extensive ruins, said to be
those of the fort of Rama, king of Oude, celebrated in the mythological
and romantic legends of India. According to Buchanan: ‘The heaps of
bricks, although much seems to have been carried away by the river,
extend a great way—that is, more than a mile in length, and half a mile
in width—and, although vast quantities of materials have been removed to
build the Mohammedan Ayodha or Fyzabad, yet the ruins in many parts
retain a very considerable elevation; nor is there any reason to doubt
that the structure to which they belonged was very large, when we
consider that it has been ruined for above two thousand years.’ A spot
among the ruins is still pointed out by the reverential Hindoos from
which Rama took his flight to heaven, carrying all the people of the
city with him: a hypothetical emigration which had the effect of leaving
Oude desolate until a neighbouring king repopulated it, and embellished
it with three hundred and sixty temples. The existing buildings
connected with the Hindoo faith are four establishments kept up in
honour of the fabled monkey-god, the auxiliary of Rama; they have annual
revenues, settled on them by one of the rulers of Oude; they are managed
by _maliks_ or spiritual superiors; and the revenues are dispensed to
several hundreds of _bairagis_ or religious ascetics, and other lazy
Hindoo mendicants—no Mussulman being ever admitted within the walls.
Lucknow, however, is the city to which our attention will naturally be
most directed—Lucknow, as the modern capital of the kingdom or province;
as a city of considerable importance, political, military, commercial,
and architectural; and as a scene of some of the most memorable events
in the Revolt.
The city of Lucknow stands on the right bank of the river Goomtee, which
is navigable thence downwards to its confluence with the Ganges between
Benares and Ghazeepore. It is rather more than fifty miles distant from
Cawnpore, and about a hundred and thirty from Allahabad. As Cawnpore is
on the right bank of the Ganges, that majestic river intervenes between
the two towns. The Goomtee is crossed at Lucknow by a bridge of boats, a
bridge of substantial masonry, and an iron bridge—an unusual fulness of
transit-channels in an Indian city. Lucknow displays a varied, lively,
and even brilliant prospect, when viewed from a position elevated above
the level of the buildings; but, once in the streets, the traveller has
his dream of beauty speedily dissipated; for oriental filth and
abomination meet his eye on all sides. The central portion of the city,
the most ancient, is meanly built with mud-houses roofed with straw;
many of them are no better than booths of mats and bamboos, thatched
with leaves or palm-branches. The streets, besides being dirty, are
narrow and crooked, and are dismally sunk many feet below the level of
the shops. The narrow avenues are rendered still less passable by the
custom of employing elephants as beasts of burden: unwieldy animals
which almost entirely block up the way. In the part of the city occupied
by Europeans, however, and containing the best public buildings, many of
the streets are broad and lively. Until 1856, when Oude was annexed to
British India, Lucknow was, to a stranger, one of the most remarkable
cities of the east, in regard to its armed population. Almost every man
went armed through the streets. One had a matchlock, another a gun,
another a pistol; others their bent swords or _tulwars_; others their
brass-knobbed buffalo-hide shields. Men of business and idlers—among all
alike it was a custom to carry arms. The black beards of the Mussulmans,
and the fierce moustaches of the Rajpoots, added to the warlike effect
thus produced. Oude was the great storehouse for recruits for the
Company’s native army; and this naturally gave a martial bent to the
people. The Company, however, deemed it a wise precaution to disarm the
peaceful citizens at the time of the annexation.
Three or four structures in and near Lucknow require separate
description. One is the Shah Nujeef, or Emanbarra of Azof-u-Dowlah, a
model of fantastic but elegant Mohammedan architecture. English
travellers have poured out high praise upon it. Lord Valentia said:
‘From the brilliant white of the composition, and the minute delicacy of
the workmanship, an enthusiast might suppose that genii had been the
artificers;’ while Bishop Heber declared: ‘I have never seen an
architectural view which pleased me more, from its richness and variety,
as well as the proportions and general good taste of its principal
features.’ The structure consists of many large buildings surrounding
two open courts. There are three archways to connect the courts; and in
the centre of these is the tomb of the founder, watched by soldiers, and
attended by moullahs perpetually reading the Koran. This structure is
often called the king’s Emanbarra or Imaumbarah, a name given to the
buildings raised by that sect of Moslems called Sheahs, for the
celebration of the religious festival of the Mohurrum. Every family of
distinction has its own emanbarra, large or small, gorgeous or simple,
according to the wealth of its owner, who generally selects it as his
own burial-place. The central hall of the Shah Nujeef, the king’s
emanbarra, is of vast size and very magnificent; and the combination of
Moslem minarets with Hindoo-pointed domes renders the exterior
remarkably striking; nevertheless the splendour is diminished by the
poverty of the materials, which are chiefly brick coated with chunam or
clay cement. Near or connected with this building is the Roumee Durwaza
or Gate of the Sultan, having an arch in the Saracenic style. Another
public building is the mosque of Saadut Ali, one of the former nawabs of
Oude; its lofty dome presents a remarkable object as seen from various
parts of the city; and, being provided with terraces without and
galleries within, it is especially attractive to a sight-seer. Southeast
of the city, and near the river, is a fantastic mansion constructed by
Claude Martine, a French adventurer who rose to great wealth and power
at the late court of Lucknow. He called it Constantia, and adorned it
with various kinds of architectural eccentricities—minute stucco
fretwork, enormous lions with lamps instead of eyes, mandarins and
ladies with shaking heads, gods and goddesses of heathen mythology, and
other incongruities. The house is large, and solidly built of stone; and
on the topmost story is the tomb of Martine; but his body is deposited
in a sarcophagus in one of the lower apartments. The favourite residence
of the former nawabs and kings of Oude was the Dil Koosha or ‘Heart’s
Delight,’ a richly adorned palace two miles out of the city, and placed
in the middle of an extensive deer-park. When Colonel (afterwards
General Sir James) Outram was appointed British resident at the court of
Lucknow, about a year before the annexation, the Dil Koosha was set
apart for his reception; and the whole ceremonial illustrated at once
the show and glitter of oriental processions, and the honour paid to the
Englishman. As soon as the colonel arrived at Cawnpore from Calcutta,
the great officers of state were sent from Lucknow to prepare for his
reception. After crossing the Ganges, and thereby setting foot in the
Oude dominions, he entered a royal carriage replete with gold and
velvet; a procession was formed of carriages, cavalry, and artillery,
which followed the fifty miles of road to the capital. On the next day,
the king was to have met the colonel half-way between the city palace
and the Dil Koosha; but being ill, his place was taken by the
heir-apparent. The one procession met the other, and then both entered
Lucknow in state. A Lucknow correspondent of a Bombay journal said: ‘Let
the reader imagine a procession of more than three hundred elephants and
camels, caparisoned and decorated with all that barbaric pomp could
lavish, and Asiatic splendour shower down; with all the princes and
nobles of the kingdom blazing with jewels, gorgeous in apparel, with
footmen and horsemen in splendid liveries, swarming on all sides;
pennons and banners dancing in the sun’s rays, and a perfect forest of
gold and silver sticks, spears, and other insignia of imperial and royal
state.’
A work of remarkable character has appeared, relating to Lucknow and the
court of Oude. It is called the _Private Life of an Eastern King_, and
has been edited from the notes of an Englishman who held a position in
the household of the king of Oude, Nussir-u-Deen, in 1834 and following
years.[10] Though the name of the author does not appear, the work is
generally accepted as being trustworthy, so many corroborations of its
statements having appeared in other quarters. Speaking of the king’s
palace within the city, this writer says: ‘The great extent of the
buildings, generally called the king’s palace, surprised me in the first
instance. It is not properly a palace, but a continuation of palaces,
stretching all along the banks of the Goomtee, the river on which
Lucknow is built. In this, however, the royal residence in Oude but
resembles what one reads of the Seraglio at Constantinople, the khan’s
residence at Teheran, and the imperial buildings of Pekin. In all
oriental states, the palaces are not so much the abode of the sovereign
only, as the centre of the government: little towns, in fact, containing
extensive lines of buildings occupied by the harem and its vast number
of attendants; containing courts, gardens, tanks, fountains, and
squares, as well as the offices of the chief ministers of state. Such is
the case in Lucknow. One side of the narrow Goomtee—a river not much
broader than a middle-sized London street—is lined by the royal palace;
the other is occupied by the _rumna_ or park, in which the menagerie is
(or was) maintained.... There is nothing grand or striking about the
exterior of the palace, the Fureed Buksh, as it is called. Its extent is
the only imposing feature about it; and this struck me more forcibly
than any magnificence or loftiness of structure would have done.’
These few topographical and descriptive details concerning Oude and its
two capitals, the former and the present, will prepare us to enter upon
a subject touching immediately the present narrative: namely, the
relations existing between the East India Company and the Oudians, and
the causes which have generated disaffection in the late royal family of
that country. It will be needful to shew by what steps Oude, once a
Hindoo _kingdom_, became under the Mogul dynasty a Mohammedan
_nawabship_, then a _nawab-viziership_, then under British protection a
Mohammedan _kingdom_, and lastly an Anglo-Indian _province_.
Whether or not historians are correct in asserting that Oude was an
independent Hindoo sovereignty fourteen hundred years before the
Christian era, and that then, for an indefinite number of centuries, it
was a Hindoo dependency of a prince whose chief seat of authority was at
Oojein—it seems to be admitted that Bakhtiar Khilzi, towards the close
of the twelfth century, was sent to conquer the country for the
Mohammedan sovereign at that time paramount in the north of India; and
that Oude became at once an integral part of the realm of the emperor of
Delhi. Under the powerful Baber, Oude was a lieutenancy or nawabship:
the ruler having sovereign power within his dominions, but being at the
same time a vassal of the Great Mogul. This state of things continued
until about a century ago, when the weakening of the central power at
Delhi tempted an ambitious nawab of Oude to throw off the trammels of
dependency, and exercise royalty on his own account. At that time the
Mohammedan rulers of many states in Northern India were troubled by the
inroads of the fierce warlike Mahrattas; and although the nawabs cared
little for their liege lord the emperor, they deemed it expedient to
join their forces against the common enemy. One result of this struggle
was, that the nawab of Oude was named ‘perpetual’ nawab—the first
loosening of the imperial chain. The nawab-vizier, as he was now called,
never afterwards paid much allegiance to the sovereign of Delhi: nay,
the effete Mogul, in 1764, asked the British to defend him from his
ambitious and disobedient neighbour. This assistance was so effectively
given, that in the next year the nawab-vizier was forced to sue humbly
for peace, and to give up some of his possessions as the price of it.
One among many stipulations of the East India Company, in reference to
the military forces allowed to be maintained by native princes, was made
in 1768, when the nawab-vizier was limited to an army of 35,000 troops;
namely, 10,000 cavalry, 10,000 sepoys or infantry, 5000 matchlockmen,
500 artillery, and 9500 irregulars. In 1773, Warren Hastings had become
so completely involved in the perplexities of Indian politics, and made
treaties so unscrupulously if he could thereby advance the interests of
the Company—that Company which he served with a zeal worthy of a better
cause—that he plotted with the nawab-vizier against the poor decrepit
Mogul: the nawab to obtain much additional power and territory, and the
British to obtain large sums of money for assisting him. When the next
nawab-vizier, Azof-u-Dowlah, assumed power in Oude in 1775, he hastened
to strengthen himself by an alliance with the now powerful British; he
gave up to them some territory; they agreed to protect him, and to
provide a certain contingent of troops, for which he was to pay an
annual sum. This was the complicated way in which the Company gained a
footing in so many Indian provinces and kingdoms. It was in 1782 that
that shameful proceeding took place, which—though Warren Hastings
obtained an acquittal concerning it at his celebrated trial in the House
of Lords—has indubitably left a stain upon his name; namely, the
spoliation of two begums or princesses of Oude, and the cruel
punishment, almost amounting to torture, of some of their dependents.
The alleged cause was an arrear in the payment of the annual sum due
from the nawab. Even if the debt were really due, the mode of extorting
the money, and the selection of the persons from whom it was extorted,
can never be reconciled to the principles of even-handed justice. The
truth may be compressed into a short sentence—the Company being terribly
in want of money to carry on a war against Hyder Ali, the
governor-general determined to obtain a supply from some or other of the
native princes in Northern India; and those natives being often
faithless, he did not hesitate to become faithless to them. During the
remainder of the century, the Company increased more and more its
‘protection’ of the nawab-vizier, and received larger and larger sums in
payment for that protection. Azof-u-Dowlah was succeeded in 1797 by
Vizier Ali, and he in 1798 by Saadut Ali.
We come now to the present century. In 1801, the Marquis Wellesley
placed the relations with Oude on a new footing: he relinquished a claim
to any further subsidy from the nawab-vizier, but obtained instead the
rich districts of Allahabad, Azimghur, Goruckpore, and the Southern
Doab, estimated to yield an annual revenue of nearly a million and a
half sterling. Oude was larger than England before this date; but the
marquis took nearly half of it by this transaction. Matters remained
without much change till 1814, when Saadut Ali was succeeded by
Ghazee-u-Deen Hyder. During the war between the British and the
Nepaulese, soon afterwards, the nawab-vizier of Oude lent the Company
two millions sterling, and received in return the Terai or
jungle-country between Oude and Nepaul. A curious system of exchanges,
this; for after receiving rich districts instead of money, the Company
received money in return for a poor district inhabited chiefly by wild
beasts. In 1819, the Company allowed Ghazee-u-Deen Hyder to renounce the
vassal-title of nawab-vizier, which was a mockery as connected with the
suzerainty of the now powerless Emperor of Delhi, and to become _King_
of Oude—a king, however, with a greater king at his elbow in the person
of the British resident at the court of Lucknow. The Company again
became a borrower from Ghazee, during the Mahratta and Burmese wars. In
1827, the throne of Oude was ascended by Nussir-u-Deen Hyder—an aspirant
to the throne who was favoured in his pretensions by the Company, and
who was, as a consequence, in bitter animosity with most of his
relations during the ten years of his reign. Complicated monetary
arrangements were frequently made with the Company, the nature and
purport of which are not always clearly traceable; but they generally
had the effect of increasing the power of the Company in Oude. On the
death of Nussir, in 1837, a violent struggle took place for the throne.
He, like other eastern princes, had a large number of sons; but the
Company would not acknowledge the legitimacy of any one of them; and the
succession therefore fell upon Mahomed Ali Shah, uncle to the deceased
sovereign. The begum or chief wife of Nussir fomented a rebellion to
overturn this arrangement; and it cost Colonel (afterwards General) Low,
resident at Lucknow, much trouble to preserve peace among the wrangling
members of the royal family.
Now approaches the arrangement which led to the change of rulers. Oude
had been most miserably governed during many years. The king and his
relations, his courtiers and his dependents, grasped for money as a
substitute for the political power which they once possessed; and in the
obtainment of this money they scrupled at no atrocities against the
natives. The court, too, was steeped in debaucheries of the most
licentious kind, outraging the decencies of life, and squandering wealth
on the minions who ministered to its pleasures. The more thoughtful and
large-hearted among the Company’s superior servants saw here what they
had so often seen elsewhere: that when the Company virtually took
possession of a native state, and pensioned off the chief and his
family, a moral deterioration followed; he was not allowed to exercise
real sovereignty; he became more intensely selfish, because he had
nothing to be proud of, even if he wished to govern well; and he took
refuge in the only oriental substitute—sensual enjoyment. When Mahomed
Ali Shah died in 1842, and his son, Umjud Ali Shah, was sanctioned by
the Company as king, a pledge was exacted and a threat foreshadowed: the
pledge was, that such reforms should be made by the king as would
contribute to the tranquillity and just government of the country; the
threat was, that if he did _not_ do this, the sovereignty would be put
an end to, and the Company would take the government into its own hands.
In 1847, Umjud Ali Shah was succeeded by his son, Wajid Ali Shah: a king
who equalled or surpassed his predecessors in weakness and profligacy,
and under whom the state of matters went from bad to worse. The Marquis
of Dalhousie was governor-general when matters arrived at a crisis.
There can be no question that the Company, whatever may be said about
aggressive views, wished to see the millions of Oude well and happily
governed; and it is equally unquestionable that this wish had not been
gratified. The engagement with Umjud Ali Shah had assumed this form: ‘It
is hereby provided that the King of Oude will take into his immediate
and earnest consideration, in concert with the British resident, the
best means of remedying the existing defects in the police, and in the
judicial and revenue administration of his dominions; and that if his
majesty should neglect to attend to the advice and counsel of the
British government or its local representative, and if (which God
forbid!) gross and systematic oppression, anarchy, and misrule, should
hereafter at any time prevail within the Oude dominions, such as
seriously to endanger the public tranquillity, the British government
reserves to itself the right of appointing its own officers to the
management of whatsoever portion of the Oude territory, either to a
small or great extent, in which such misrule as that above alluded to
may have occurred, for so long a period as it may deem necessary.’ The
marquis, finding that thirteen years had presented no improvement in the
internal government of Oude, resolved to adopt decisive measures. He
drew up a treaty, whereby the administration of the territory of Oude
was to be transferred to the British government: ample provision being
made for the dignity, affluence, and honour of the king and his family.
The king refused to sign the treaty, not admitting the allegations or
suppositions on which it was based; whereupon the marquis, acting with
the sanction of the Company and of the imperial government in London,
announced all existing treaties to be null and void, and issued a
proclamation declaring that the government of the territories of Oude
was henceforth vested exclusively and for ever in the East India
Company. The governor-general in his minute, it will be remembered,
spoke of this transfer of power in the following brief terms: ‘The
kingdom of Oude has been assumed in perpetual government by the
Honourable East India Company; in pursuance of a policy which has so
recently been under the consideration of the Honourable Court, that I
deem it unnecessary to refer to it more particularly here.’
Everything tends to shew that the king violently opposed this loss of
his regal title and power. When the governor-general and the resident at
Lucknow waited on him with the draft of the proposed treaty, towards the
close of 1855, he not only refused to sign it, but announced his
intention to proceed to England, with a view of obtaining justice from
Queen Victoria against the Company. This the marquis would not prevent;
but he intimated that the king must travel, and be treated by the
Company’s servants, as a _private individual_, if he adopted this step.
The stipend for the royal family was fixed by the Company—of course
without the consent of the king and his relations—at £120,000 per annum.
The reasons for putting an end to the title of King of Oude were thus
stated, in a document addressed by the directors of the East India
Company to the governor-general of India in council, many months after
the transfer of power had been effected, and only a short time before
the commencement of the Revolt: ‘Half a century ago, our new and
critical position among the Mohammedans of Northwestern India compelled
us to respect the titular dignity of the Kings of Delhi. But the
experiences of that half-century have abundantly demonstrated the
inconveniences of suffering an empty nominal sovereignty to descend from
generation to generation; and the continuance of such a phantom of power
must be productive of inconvenience to our government, and we believe of
more mortification than gratification to the royal pensioners
themselves. It fosters humiliating recollections; it engenders delusive
hopes; it is the fruitful source of intrigues that end in disappointment
and disgrace. The evil is not limited to the effect produced upon the
members of the royal house: prone to intrigue themselves, they become
also a centre for the intrigues of others. It is natural, also, that the
younger members of such a family should feel a greater repugnance than
they otherwise would to mix with the community and become industrious
and useful subjects. Strongly impressed with these convictions, we
therefore observe with satisfaction that no pledge or promise of any
kind with regard to the recognition by our government of the kingly
title after the death of the present titular sovereign, Wajid Ali Shah,
has been made to him or to his heirs.’ The reasoning in this declaration
is probably sound; but it does not apply, and was not intended to apply,
to the original aggressive movements of the Company. Because the shadow
of sovereignty is not worth retaining without the substance, it does not
necessarily follow that the Company was right in taking the substance
fifty-five years earlier: that proceeding must be attacked or defended
on its own special ground, by any one who wishes to enter the arena of
Indian politics.
It appears from this document, that four of the British authorities at
Calcutta—the Marquis of Dalhousie, General Anson, Mr Dorin, and Mr
Grant—had concurred in opinion that, as the king refused to sign the
treaty, he should, as a punishment, be denied many of the privileges
promised by that treaty. They proposed that the annual stipend of twelve
lacs of rupees (£120,000) should be ‘reserved for consideration’ after
the demise of the king—that is, that it should not necessarily be a
perpetual hereditary stipend. To this, however, Colonel Low, who had
been British resident at Lucknow, very earnestly objected. He urged that
the king’s sons were so young, that they could not, in any degree, be
blamed for his conduct in not signing the proposed treaty; that they
ought not to be made to lose their inheritance through the father’s
fault; that the father, the king, would in any case be pretty severely
punished for his obstinacy; and that it would not be worthy of a great
paramount state, coming into possession of a rich territory, to refuse a
liberal stipend to the descendants of the king. These representations
were listened to, and a pension to the amount already named was granted
to the king and his heirs—‘not heirs according to Mohammedan usages, but
only those persons who may be direct male descendants of the present
king, born in lawful wedlock.’ A difficult duty was left to the Calcutta
government, to decide how many existing persons had a claim to be
supported out of the pension, seeing that an eastern king’s family is
generally one of great magnitude; and that, although he has many wives
and many children, they fill various ranks in relation to legitimacy.
The Company proposed, if the king liked the plan, that one-third of the
pension should be commuted into a capital sum, with which jaghires or
estates might be bought, and vested in the family for the use of the
various members—making them, in fact, zemindars or landed proprietors,
having something to do instead of leading lives of utter idleness. In
what light the directors viewed the large and important army of Oude,
will be noticed presently; but in reference to the transfer of
mastership itself, they said: ‘An expanse of territory embracing an area
of nearly twenty-five thousand square miles, and containing five million
of inhabitants, has passed from its native prince to the Queen of
England without the expenditure of a drop of blood, and almost without a
murmur. The peaceable manner in which this great change has been
accomplished, and the tranquillity which has since prevailed in all
parts of the country, are circumstances which could not fail to excite
in us the liveliest emotions of thankfulness and pleasure.’ This was
written, be it remembered—and the fact is full of instruction touching
the miscalculations of the Company—less than two months before the
cartridge troubles began, and while the mysterious chupatties were
actually in circulation from hand to hand.
The deposed King of Oude did not go to England, as he had threatened; he
went to Calcutta, and took up his abode, in April 1856, at Garden Reach,
in the outskirts of that city, attended by his late prime minister, Ali
Nuckee Khan, and by several followers. The queen, however, achieved the
adventurous journey to the British capital, taking with her a numerous
retinue. This princess was not, in accordance with European usages, the
real Queen of Oude; she was rather a sort of queen-dowager, the king’s
mother, and was accompanied by the king’s brother and the king’s son—the
one claiming to be heir-presumptive, the other heir-apparent. All felt a
very lively interest in the maintenance of the regal power and revenues
among the members of the family, and came to England in the hope of
obtaining a reversal of the governor-general’s decree. They left Lucknow
in the spring of 1856, and arrived in England in August. An attempt was
made by an injudicious agent to enlist public sympathy for them by an
open-air harangue at Southampton. He bade his hearers picture to
themselves the suppliant for justice, ‘an aged queen, brought up in all
the pomp and luxury of the East, the soles of whose feet were scarcely
allowed to tread the ground, laying aside the prejudices of travel, and
undertaking a journey of some ten thousand miles, to appeal to the
people of England for justice;’ and the ‘fellow-countrymen’ were then
exhorted to give ‘three cheers’ for the royal family of Oude—which they
undoubtedly did, in accordance with the usual custom of an English
assemblage when so exhorted; but this momentary excitement soon ceased,
and the oriental visitors settled in London for a lengthened residence.
What official interviews or correspondence took place concerning the
affairs of Oude, was not publicly known; but there was an evident
disinclination on the part both of the government and the two Houses of
parliament to hold out any hopes of a reversal of the policy adopted by
the East India Company; and the ex-royal family of Oude maintained no
hold on the public mind, except so far as the turbaned and robed
domestics attracted the attention of metropolitan sight-seers. In what
fashion these suppliants disowned and ignored the Revolt in India, a
future chapter will shew.
The reader will, then, picture to himself the state of Oude at the
period when the Revolt commenced. The deposed king was at Calcutta; his
mother and other relations were in London; while the whole governing
power was in the hands of the Company’s servants. Sir Henry Lawrence, a
man in whom sagacity, energy, and nobleness of heart were remarkably
combined, had succeeded Sir James Outram as resident, or rather
chief-commissioner, and now held supreme sway at Lucknow.
It is important here to know in what light the East India Company
regarded the native army of Oude, at and soon after the annexation. In
the directors’ minute, of December 1856, just on the eve of disturbances
which were quite unexpected by them, the subject was thus touched upon:
‘The probable temper of the army, a force computed on paper at some
60,000 men of all arms, on the announcement of a measure which threw a
large proportion of them out of employment, and transferred the
remainder to a new master, was naturally a source of some anxiety to us.
In your scheme for the future government and administration of the Oude
provinces, drawn up on the 4th of February, you proposed the
organisation of an Oude irregular force, into which you suggested the
absorption of as large a number of the disbanded soldiers of the king as
could be employed in such a corps, whilst others were to be provided for
in the military and district police; but you observed at the same time
that these arrangements would not absorb one-half of the disbanded
troops. To the remainder you determined to grant pensions and
gratuities, graduated according to length of service. There were no
better means than these of palliating a difficulty which could not be
avoided. But only partial success was to be expected from so partial a
measure. As a further precaution, the chief-commissioner deemed it
expedient to promise pensions of one hundred rupees per month to the
commandants of the regiments of the late king, some sixty in number,
conditional on their lending their cordial co-operation to the
government in this crisis, and provided that their regiments remained
quiet and loyal. We recognise the force of the chief-commissioner’s
argument in support of these grants; and are willing to adopt his
suggestion that, in the event of any of these men accepting office as
tuhseeldars or other functionaries under our government, the amount of
their pensions should still be paid to them.’ It was found that the King
of Oude had allowed the pay of his soldiers to run into arrear. On this
point the directors said: ‘The army, a large number of whom are
necessarily thrown out of employment, and who cannot immediately find,
even if the habits of their past lives fitted them for, industrial
occupations, are peculiarly entitled to liberal consideration. It is
doubtless true that, as stated by the chief-commissioner, the soldiery
of Oude have “fattened on rapine and plunder;” and it is certain that
the servants of the Oude government enriched themselves at the expense
of the people. But this was only part of the system under which they
lived; nothing better, indeed, was to be expected from men whose pay,
after it had been tardily extracted from the treasury, was liable to be
withheld from them by a fraudulent minister. Whatever may have been the
past excesses and the illicit gains of the soldiers, it was the duty of
the British government in this conjuncture to investigate their claims
to the arrears of regular pay alleged to be due to them by the Oude
government, and, having satisfied ourselves of the justice of these
claims, to discharge the liabilities in full. We observe with
satisfaction that this has been done.... We concur, moreover, in the
very judicious remark made by Viscount Canning, in his minute of the 5th
of March, “that a few lacs[11] spent in closing the account, without
injustice, and even liberality, will be well repaid if we can thereby
smooth down discontent and escape disturbance.”’
The plan adopted, therefore, was to disband the army of the deposed
king, pay up the arrears due by him to the soldiers, re-enlist some of
the discharged men to form a new Oude force in the Company’s service,
and give pensions or gratuities to the remainder.
We are now in a condition to follow the course of events at Lucknow
during the months of April and May 1857: events less mutinous and
tragical than those at Meerut and Delhi, but important for their
consequences in later months.
It was in the early part of April that the incident occurred at Lucknow
concerning a medicine-bottle, briefly adverted to in a former chapter:
shewing the existence of an unusually morbid feeling on the subjects of
religion and caste. Dr Wells having been seen to taste some medicine
which he was about to administer to a sick soldier, to test its quality,
the Hindoos near at hand refused to partake of it, lest the taint of a
Christian mouth should degrade their caste. They complained to Colonel
Palmer, of the 48th native regiment, who, as he believed and hoped,
adopted a conciliatory course that removed all objection. This hope was
not realised, however; for on that same night the doctor’s bungalow was
fired and destroyed by some of the sepoys, whom no efforts could
identify. Very soon afterwards, nearly all the huts of the 13th regiment
were burned down, under similarly mysterious circumstances.
Sir Henry Lawrence’s difficulties began with the vexatious
cartridge-question, as was the case in so many other parts of India.
Towards the close of April, Captain Watson found that many of the
recruits or younger men in his regiment, the 7th Oude infantry, evinced
a reluctance to bite the cartridges. Through some oversight, the new
method of tearing instead of biting had not been shewn to the sepoys at
Lucknow; and there was therefore sufficient reason for adopting a
conciliatory course in explaining the matter to them. The morbid feeling
still, however, remained. On the 1st of May, recusancy was again
exhibited, followed by an imprisonment of some of the recruits in the
quarter-guard. The native officers of the regiment came forward to
assure Captain Watson that this disobedience was confined to the
‘youngsters,’ and that the older sepoys discountenanced it. He believed
them, or seemed to do so. On the 2d he addressed the men, pointing out
the folly of the conduct attributed to the young recruits, and exhorting
them to behave more like true soldiers. Though listened to respectfully,
he observed so much sullenness and doggedness among the troops, that he
brought the matter under the notice of his superior officer, Brigadier
Grey. The native officers, when put to the test, declined taking any
steps to enforce obedience; they declared their lives to be in danger
from the men under them, should they do so. The brigadier, accompanied
by Captains Watson and Barlow, at once went to the lines, had the men
drawn up in regular order, and put the question to each company singly,
whether it was willing to use the same cartridges _which had all along
been employed_. They refused. The brigadier left them to arrange plans
for the morrow; placing them, however, under safe guard for the night.
On the morning of the 3d, the grenadier company (picked or most skilful
company) of the regiment went through the lines, threatening to kill
some of the European officers; and soon afterwards the tumult became so
serious, that the fulfilment of the threat seemed imminent. By much
entreaty, the officers, European and native, allayed in some degree the
excitement of the men. While this was going on, however, at the post or
station of Moosa Bagh, a messenger was sent by the intriguers of the 7th
regiment to the cantonment at Murreeoun, with a letter inciting the 48th
native infantry to join them in mutiny. This letter was fortunately
brought, by a subadar true to his duty, to Colonel Palmer, the
commandant. Prompt measures were at once resolved upon. A considerable
force—consisting of the 7th Oude cavalry, the 4th Oude infantry,
portions of the 48th and 71st Bengal infantry, a portion of the 7th
Bengal cavalry, a wing of her Majesty’s 32d, and a field-battery of
guns—was sent from the cantonment to the place where the recusants were
posted. The mutineers stood firm for some time; but when they saw cannon
pointed at them, some turned and fled with great rapidity, while others
quietly gave up their arms. The cavalry pursued and brought back some of
the fugitives. The 7th Oude irregular infantry regiment, about a
thousand strong, was thus suddenly broken into three fragments—one
escaped, one captured, and one disarmed. A letter from the Rev. Mr
Polehampton, chaplain to the English residents at Lucknow, affords one
among many proofs that Sunday was a favourite day for such outbreaks in
India—perhaps purposely so selected by the rebellious sepoys. The 3d of
May was Sunday: the chaplain was performing evening-service at the
church. ‘Towards the end of the prayers, a servant came into church, and
spoke first to Major Reid, of the 48th; and then to Mr Dashwood, of the
same regiment. They both went out, and afterwards others were called
away. The ladies began to look very uncomfortable; one or two went out
of church; one or two others crossed over the aisle to friends who were
sitting on the other side; so that altogether I had not a very attentive
congregation.’ When it was found that the officers had been called out
to join the force against the mutineers, the chaplain ‘felt very much
inclined to ride down to see what was going on; but as the Moosa Bagh is
seven miles from our house, and as I should have left my wife all alone,
I stayed where I was. I thought of what William III. said when he was
told that the Bishop of Derry had been shot at the ford at the Battle of
the Boyne, “What took him there?”’
The course of proceeding adopted by Sir Henry Lawrence on this occasion
was quite of an oriental character, as if suggested by one who well knew
the Indian mind. He held a grand military durbar, to reward the faithful
as well as to awe the mutinous. In the first instance he had said that
the government would be advised to disband the regiment, with a
provision for re-enlisting those who had not joined the rebels; but
pending the receipt of instructions from Calcutta, he held his durbar
(court; levee; hall of audience). Four native soldiers—a havildar-major,
a subadar, and a sepoy of the 48th regiment, and a sepoy of the 13th—who
had proved themselves faithful in an hour of danger, were to be
rewarded. The lawn in front of the residency was carpeted, and chairs
were arranged on three sides of a square for some of the native officers
and sepoys; while a large verandah was filled with European officials,
civil and military, upwards of twenty in number. Sir Henry opened the
proceedings with an address in the Hindostani language, full of point
and vigour. After a gorgeous description of the power and wealth of the
British nation—overwrought, perhaps, for an English ear, but well suited
to the occasion—he adverted to the freedom of conscience in British
India on matters of religion: ‘Those amongst you who have perused the
records of the past must well know that Alumghir in former times, and
Hyder Ali in later days, forcibly converted thousands and thousands of
Hindoos, desecrated their fanes, demolished their temples, and carried
ruthless devastation amongst the household gods. Come to our times; many
here present well know that Runjeet Singh never permitted his Mohammedan
subjects to call the pious to prayer—never allowed the Afghan to sound
from the lofty minarets which adorn Lahore, and which remain to this day
a monument to their munificent founders. The year before last a Hindoo
could not have dared to build a temple in Lucknow. All this is changed.
Who is there that would dare _now_ to interfere with our Hindoo or
Mohammedan subjects?’ He contrasted this intolerance of Mohammedan and
Hindoo rulers in matters of religion with the known scruples of the
British government; and told his hearers that the future would be like
the present, in so far as concerns the freedom of all religions over the
whole of India. He rebuked and spurned the reports which had been
circulated among the natives, touching meditated insult to their faith
or their castes. He adverted to the gallant achievements of the
Company’s native troops during a hundred years of British rule; and told
how it pained him to think that disbandment of such troops had been
found necessary at Barrackpore and Berhampore. And then he presented the
bright side of his picture: ‘Now turn to these good and faithful
soldiers—Subadar Sewak Tewaree, Havildar Heera Lall Doobey, and Sipahi
Ranura Doobey, of the 48th native infantry, and to Hossein Buksh, of the
13th regiment—who have set to you all a good example. The first three at
once arrested the bearer of a seditious letter, and brought the whole
circumstance to the notice of superior authority. You know well what the
consequences were, and what has befallen the 7th Oude irregular
infantry, more than fifty of whose sirdars and soldiers are now in
confinement, and the whole regiment awaits the decision of government as
to its fate. Look at Hossein Buksh of the 13th, fine fellow as he is! Is
he not a good and faithful soldier? Did he not seize three villains who
are now in confinement and awaiting their doom. It is to reward such
fidelity, such acts and deeds as I have mentioned, and of which you are
all well aware, that I have called you all together this day—to assure
you that those who are faithful and true to their salt will always be
amply rewarded and well cared for; that the great government which we
all serve is prompt to reward, swift to punish, vigilant and eager to
protect its faithful subjects; but firm, determined, resolute to crush
all who may have the temerity to rouse its vengeance.’ After a further
exhortation to fidelity, a further declaration of the power and
determination of the government to deal severely with all disobedient
troops, Sir Henry arrived at the climax of his impassioned and vigorous
address: ‘Advance, Subadar Sewak Tewaree—come forward, havildar and
sepoys—and receive these splendid gifts from the government which is
proud to number you amongst its soldiers. Accept these honorary sabres;
you have won them well: long may you live to wear them in honour! Take
these sums of money for your families and relatives; wear these robes of
honour at your homes and your festivals; and may the bright example
which you have so conspicuously set, find, as it doubtless will,
followers in every regiment and company in the army.’ To the subadar and
the havildar-major were presented each, a handsomely decorated sword, a
pair of elegant shawls, a choogah or cloak, and four pieces of
embroidered cloth; to the other two men, each, a decorated sword, a
turban, pieces of cloth, and three hundred rupees in cash. Hossein Buksh
was also made a naik or corporal.
Let not the reader judge this address and these proceedings by an
English standard. Sir Henry Lawrence knew well what he was doing; for
few of the Company’s servants ever had a deeper insight into the native
character than that eminent man. There had been, in the Company’s
general system, too little punishment for misconduct, too little reward
for faithfulness, among the native troops: knowing this, he adopted a
different policy, so far as he was empowered to do.
When the news of the Lucknow disturbance reached Calcutta, a course was
adopted reminding us of the large amount of written correspondence
involved in the mode of managing public affairs. The governor-general,
it may here be explained, was assisted by a supreme council, consisting
of four persons, himself making a fifth; and the council was aided by
four secretaries, for the home, the foreign, the military, and the
financial affairs of India. All these officials were expected to make
their inquiries, communicate their answers, state their opinions, and
notify their acts in writing, for the information of the Court of
Directors and the Board of Control in London; and this is one reason why
parliamentary papers touching Indian affairs are often so voluminous. At
the period in question, Viscount Canning, Mr Dorin, General Low, Mr
Grant, and Mr Peacock, were the five members of council, each and all of
whom prepared ‘minutes’ declaratory of their opinions whether Sir Henry
Lawrence had done right or wrong in threatening to disband the mutinous
7th regiment. The viscount wished to support the chief-commissioner at
once, in a bold method of dealing with the disaffected. Mr Dorin went
further. He said: ‘My theory is that no corps mutinies that is well
commanded;’ he wished that some censure should be passed on the English
officers of the 7th, and that the men of that regiment should receive
more severe treatment than mere disbanding. General Low advocated a
course midway between the other two; but at the same time deemed it
right to inquire how it happened that the men had been required to bite
the cartridges; seeing that instructions had already been issued from
head-quarters that the platoon exercises should be conducted without
this necessity. Mr Grant’s minute was very long; he wanted more time,
more reports, more examinations, and was startled at the promptness with
which Lawrence had proposed to act. Mr Peacock also wanted further
information before deciding on the plan proposed by the ruling authority
at Oude. The governor-general’s minute was written on the 9th; the other
four commented on it on the 10th; the governor-general replied to their
comments on the 11th; and they commented on his reply on the 12th. Thus
it arose that the tedious system of written minutes greatly retarded the
progress of business at Calcutta.
There cannot be a better opportunity than the present for adverting to
the extraordinary services rendered by the electric telegraph in India
during the early stages of the Revolt, when the mutineers had not yet
carried to any great extent their plan of cutting the wires. We have
just had occasion to describe the routine formalities in the mode of
conducting business at Calcutta; but it would be quite indefensible to
withhold admiration from the electro-telegraphic system established by
the East India Company. This matter was touched upon in the
Introduction; and the middle of May furnished wonderful illustrations of
the value of the lightning-messenger. Let us fix our attention on two
days only—the 16th and 17th of May—less than one week after the
commencement of violent scenes at Meerut and Delhi. Let us picture to
ourselves Viscount Canning at Calcutta, examining every possible scheme
for sending up reinforcements to the disturbed districts; Sir John
Lawrence at Lahore, keeping the warlike population of the Punjaub in
order by his mingled energy and tact; Sir Henry Lawrence at Lucknow,
surrounded by Oudians, whom it required all his skill to baffle; Mr
Colvin at Agra, watching with an anxious eye the state of affairs in the
Northwest Provinces; General Anson at Simla, preparing, as
commander-in-chief, to hasten down to the Delhi district; Lord
Elphinstone at Bombay, as governor of that presidency; and Lord Harris,
filling an analogous office at Madras. Bearing in mind these persons and
places, let us see what was done by the electric telegraph on those two
busy days—deriving our information from the voluminous but ill-arranged
parliamentary papers on the affairs of India: papers almost useless
without repeated perusals and collations.
First, then, the 16th of May. Sir Henry Lawrence sent one of his pithy,
terse telegrams[12] from Lucknow to Calcutta, to this effect: ‘All is
quiet here, but affairs are critical; get every European you can from
China, Ceylon, and elsewhere; also all the Goorkhas from the hills. Time
is precious.’ On the same day he sent another: ‘Give me plenary military
power in Oude; I will not use it unnecessarily. I am sending two troops
of cavalry to Allahabad. Send a company of Europeans into the fort
there. It will be good to raise regiments of irregular horse, under good
officers.’ In the reverse direction—from Calcutta to Lucknow—this
message was sent: ‘It appears that the regiment of Ferozpore [Sikhs] has
already marched to Allahabad, and that, under present circumstances, no
part of that regiment can be spared.’ And another, in like manner
answering a telegram of the same day: ‘You have full military powers.
The governor-general will support you in everything you think necessary.
It is impossible to send a European company to Allahabad; Dinapoor must
not be weakened by a single man. If you can raise any irregulars that
you can trust, do so at once. Have you any good officers to spare for
the duty?’ All this, be it remembered was telegraphed to and from two
cities six or seven hundred miles apart. On the same day, questions were
asked, instructions requested, and information given, between Calcutta,
on the one hand, and Agra, Gwalior, Meerut, Cawnpore, and Benares on the
other. Passing thence to Bombay—twelve hundred miles from Calcutta by
road, and very much more by telegraph-route—we find the two governors
conversing through the wires concerning the English troops which had
just been fighting in Persia, and those about being sent to China; all
of whom were regarded with a longing eye by the governor-general at that
critical time. Viscount Canning telegraphed to Lord Elphinstone on the
16th: ‘Two of the three European regiments which are returning from
Persia are urgently wanted in Bengal. If they are sent from Bombay to
Kurachee, will they find conveyance up the Indus? Are they coming from
Bushire in steam or sailing transports? Let me know immediately whether
General Ashburnham is going to Madras.’ The general here named was to
have commanded the troops destined for China. The replies and
counter-replies to this on the 17th, we will mention presently. Lord
Harris, on this same day of activity, sent the brief telegram: ‘The
Madras Fusiliers will be sent immediately by _Zenobia_; but she is
hardly fit to take a whole regiment.’ This was in reply to a request
transmitted shortly before.
[Illustration:
SIR HENRY LAWRENCE.
]
[Illustration:
Residency at Lucknow.
]
Next, the 17th of May. Sir Henry Lawrence telegraphed from Lucknow: ‘You
are quite right to keep Allahabad safe. We shall do without Sikhs or
Goorkhas. We have concentrated the troops as much as possible, so as to
protect the treasury and magazine, and keep up a communication. A false
alarm last night.’ He sent another, detailing what he had done in
managing the turbulent 7th regiment. In the reverse direction, a message
was sent to him, that ‘The artillery invalids at Chunar, about 109 in
number, have been ordered to proceed to Allahabad immediately.’ The
telegrams were still more numerous than on the 16th, between the various
towns mentioned in the last paragraph, in Northern India. From Bombay,
Lord Elphinstone telegraphed to ask whether an extra mail-steamer should
be sent off to Suez with news for England; and added: ‘The 64th will
arrive in a few days from Bushire; their destination is Bengal; but we
can keep them here available, or send them round to Calcutta if you wish
it.’ To which the governor-general replied from Calcutta, still on the
same day, expressing his wishes about the mail, and adding: ‘If you can
send the 64th to Calcutta by steam, do so without any delay. If steam is
not available, I will wait for an answer to my last message before
deciding that they shall come round in sailing-vessels. Let me know when
you expect the other European regiments and the artillery, and what
steam-vessels will be available for their conveyance. Have you at
present a steam-vessel that could go to Galle to bring troops from there
to Calcutta? This must not interfere with the despatch of the 64th.’
Another, from Lord Elphinstone, on the very same day, announced that the
best of the Indus boats were in Persia; that it would be impossible to
send up three European regiments from Kurachee to the Punjaub, within
any reasonable time, by the Indus boats then available; that he
nevertheless intended to send one regiment, the 1st Europeans, by that
route; and that the 2d Europeans were daily expected from Persia. He
further said: ‘Shall I send them round to Calcutta; and shall I send the
78th also? General Ashburnham leaves this to-day by the steamer for
Galle, where he expects to meet Lord Elgin; he is not going to Madras.’
While this was going on between Calcutta and Bombay, Madras was not
idle. The governor-general telegraphed to Lord Harris, to inform him of
the mutiny, on the previous day, of the Sappers and Miners who went from
Roorkee to Meerut; and another on the same day, replying to a previous
telegram, said: ‘If the _Zenobia_ cannot bring all the Fusiliers, the
remainder might be sent in the _Bentinck_, which will be at Madras on
the 26th; but send as many in the _Zenobia_ as she will safely hold. Let
me know when the _Zenobia_ sails, and what force she brings.’ If we had
selected three days instead of two, as illustrating the wonders of the
electric telegraph, we should have had to narrate that on the third day,
the 18th of May, Lord Harris announced that the Fusiliers would leave
Madras that evening; that Viscount Canning thanked him for his great
promptness; that Lord Elphinstone received instructions to send one of
the three regiments up the Indus, and the other two round to Calcutta;
that he asked and received suggestions about managing a Beloochee
regiment at Kurachee; and that messages in great number were transmitted
to and from Calcutta, Benares, Allahabad, Cawnpore, Lucknow, Agra, and
other large towns.
The imagination becomes almost bewildered at contemplating such things.
Between the morning of the 16th of May and the evening of the 17th, the
great officers of the Company, situated almost at the extreme points of
the Indian empire—east, west, north, and south—were conversing through
four thousand miles of wire, making requests, soliciting advice,
offering services, discussing difficulties, weighing probabilities,
concerting plans; and all with a precision much greater than if they had
been writing letters to one another, in ordinary official form, in
adjoining rooms of the same building. It was, perhaps, the greatest
triumph ever achieved up to that time by the greatest of modern
inventions—the electric telegraph.
We shall find the present part of the chapter an equally convenient
place in which to notice a series of operations strikingly opposed to
those just described—slow travelling as compared with quick telegraphy.
It is full of instruction to see how earnestly anxious Viscount Canning
was to send troops up to the northern provinces; and how he was baffled
by the tardiness of all travelling appliances in India. The railway was
opened only from Calcutta to Raneegunge, a very small portion of the
distance to the disturbed districts. The history of the peregrinations
of a few English troops in May will illustrate, and will receive
illustration from, the matters treated in Chapter I.
The European 84th regiment, it will be remembered, had been hastily
brought from Rangoon in the month of March, to assist in disbanding the
sepoys who had shewn disaffection at Barrackpore and Berhampore. When
the troubles began at Meerut and Delhi, in May, it was resolved to send
on this regiment; and the governor-general found no part of his onerous
duties more difficult than that of obtaining _quick_ transmission for
those troops. On the 21st of May he telegraphed to Benares: ‘Pray
instruct the commissariat officer to prepare cooking-pots and other
arrangements for the 84th regiment, now on its way to Benares; and the
barrack department to have cots ready for them.’ On the 23d, Sir Henry
Lawrence asked: ‘When may her Majesty’s 84th be expected at Cawnpore?’
to which an answer was sent on the following day: ‘It is impossible to
convey a wing of Europeans to Cawnpore (about six hundred and thirty
miles) in less time than twenty-five days. The government dâk and the
dâk companies are fully engaged in carrying a company of the 84th to
Benares, at the rate of 18 men a day. A wing of the Madras Fusiliers
arrived yesterday, and starts to-day; part by bullock-train, part by
steamer. The bullock-train can take 100 men per day, at the rate of
thirty miles a day. The entire regiment of the Fusiliers, about 900
strong, cannot be collected at Benares in less than 19 or 20 days. About
150 men who go by steam will scarcely be there so soon. I expect, that
from this time forward troops will be pushed upwards at the rate of 100
men a day from Calcutta; each batch taking ten days to reach Benares;
from Benares they will be distributed as most required. The regiments
from Pegu, Bombay, and Ceylon will be sent up in this way. Every bullock
and horse that is to be had, except just enough to carry the post, is
retained; and no troops will be sent by steam which can be sent more
quickly by other means.’ These details shew that Cawnpore and Benares
were both asking for troops at the same time; and that the
governor-general, even if he possessed the soldiers, had not the means
of sending them expeditiously. On the 24th, a message was sent to
Raneegunge, ordering that a company of Madras troops might be well
attended to, when they arrived by railway from Calcutta; and on the next
day, Benares received notice to prepare for four companies proceeding
thither by bullock-train, one company per day. The Benares commissioner
announced the arrival of _fifteen_ English soldiers, as if that were a
number to be proud of, and stated that he would send them on to
Cawnpore. (It will be seen, on reference to a map, that Benares lies in
the route to almost all the upper and western provinces, whether by road
or by river.) The Raneegunge agent telegraphed on the 26th: ‘If the men
reach Sheergotty, there is no difficulty in conveying them to Benares;
the only difficulty is between Raneegunge and Sheergotty. _Ekahs_ are
not, I think, adapted for Europeans; nor do I think that time would be
gained.’ An ekah or ecka, we may here remark, is a light pony-gig on two
wheels, provided with a cloth cushion on which the rider (usually a
native) sits cross-legged. It shews the nature of Indian travelling, to
find the officials discussing whether English soldiers should be thus
conveyed—one cushioned vehicle to convey each cross-legged soldier. At
Benares, the commissioner borrowed from the rajah the use of a house in
which to lodge the English troops as fast as they came; and he sent them
on by dâk to Allahabad and Cawnpore. Nevertheless Sir Henry Lawrence,
disturbed by ominous symptoms, wished for ekahs, dâks—anything that
would give him English soldiers. He telegraphed on this day: ‘I strongly
advise that as many ekah-dâks be laid as possible, from Raneegunge to
Cawnpore, to bring up European troops. _Spare no expense_;’ and on the
next day he received the reply: ‘Every horse and carriage, bullock and
cart, which could be brought upon the road, has been collected, and no
means of increasing the number will be neglected.’ On the 27th it was
announced from Benares that ‘the steamer had stuck,’ and that all the
land-dâks were being used that could possibly be procured. On the same
day the Allahabad commissioner spoke hopefully of his plan that—by the
aid of 1600 siege-train bullocks from that place, 600 from Cawnpore, the
government bullocks, the private wagon-trains, and magazine carts—he
might be able to send 160 Europeans per day up to Cawnpore. On the 28th,
the Calcutta authorities sent a telegram to Benares, to announce that
‘Up to the 1st of June seven dâk-carriages will be despatched daily,
with one officer and 18 soldiers. On the 1st of June, and daily
afterwards, there will be despatched nine dâk-carriages, with one
officer and 24 Europeans; and 28 bullock-carts, with one officer, 90
Europeans, a few followers, and provisions to fill one cart. The
Calcutta steamer and flat, with four officers, 134 Europeans, and
proportion of followers; and the coal-steamer, with about the same
numbers, will reach Benares on the 10th or 11th of June.’ From this it
will be seen that a ‘dâk-carriage’ conveyed three soldiers, and a
‘bullock-cart’ also three, the ‘followers’ probably accompanying them on
foot. The Benares commissioner on the same day said: ‘Happily we have
good metalled roads all over this division’—thereby implying what would
have been the result if the roads were _not_ good. The use of bullocks
was more particularly adverted to in a telegram of the 30th of May:
‘Gun-bullocks would be most useful between Raneegunge and the Sone, if
they could be sent from Calcutta in time; if there are carts, the daily
dispatches can be increased; not otherwise. Gun-bullocks would save a
day, as they travel quicker than our little animals.’ Immediately
afterwards, forty-six elephants were sent from Patna, and one hundred
from Dacca and Barrackpore, to Sheergotty, to assist in the transport of
troops. On a later occasion, when more troops had arrived from England,
Viscount Canning sent two steamers from Calcutta to Pegu, to bring over
cargoes of elephants, to be used as draught-animals!
Thus it continued, day after day—all the servants of the Company, civil
and military, calculating how long it would take to send driblets of
soldiers up the country; and all harassed by this dilemma—that what the
Ganges steamers gained in roominess, they lost by the sinuosities of the
river; and that what the dâks and bullock-trains gained by a direct
route, they lost by the inevitable slowness of such modes of conveyance,
and the smallness of the number of soldiers that could be carried at a
time. Thankful that they possessed telegraphs, the authorities had
little to be thankful for as concerned railways or roads, vehicles or
horses.
We now return to the proceedings of Sir Henry Lawrence at Lucknow.
Before the collective minutes of the five members of the Supreme Council
were fully settled, he had acted on the emergency which gave rise to
them. He held a court of inquiry; the result of which was that two
subadars, a jemadar, and forty-four sepoys of the mutinous 7th were
committed to prison; but he resolved not at present to disband the
regiment. His grand durbar has been already described. In the middle of
the month, as just shewn, he sent many brief telegrams indicating that,
though no mutinies had occurred at Lucknow, there was nevertheless need
for watchfulness. He had asked for the aid of some Sikhs, but said, on
the 18th: ‘As there is difficulty, do not send the Sikhs to Lucknow.’ On
the next day, his message was: ‘All very well in city, cantonment, and
country;’ but after this, the elements of mischief seemed to be
gathering, although Lawrence prepared to meet all contingencies
resolutely. ‘All quiet,’ he said on the 21st, ‘but several reports of
intended attacks on us.’ He was, however, more solicitous about the fate
of Cawnpore, Allahabad, and Benares, than of Lucknow.
The military position of Sir Henry towards the last week in May was
this. He had armed four posts for his defence at Lucknow. In one were
four hundred men and twenty guns; in another, a hundred Europeans and as
many sepoys; in another was the chief store of powder, well under
command. A hundred and thirty Europeans, two hundred sepoys, and six
guns, guarded the treasury; the guns near the residency being under
European control. The old magazine was denuded of its former contents,
as a precautionary measure. Six guns, and two squadrons of the 2d Oude
irregular cavalry, were at the Dâk bungalow, half-way between the
residency and the cantonment. In the cantonment were three hundred and
forty men of her Majesty’s 32d, with six European guns, and six more of
the Oude light field-battery. By the 23d of the month, nearly all the
stores were moved from the old magazine to one of the strongholds, where
thirty guns and one hundred Europeans were in position, and where ten
days’ supplies for five hundred men were stored. On the 29th, Lawrence’s
telegram told of ‘great uneasiness at Lucknow. Disturbances threatened
outside. Tranquillity cannot be much longer maintained unless Delhi be
speedily captured.’ The residency, a place rendered so memorable by
subsequent events, must be here noticed. The cantonment was six miles
from the city, and the residency was itself isolated from the rest of
Lucknow. The Rev. Mr Polehampton, describing in his letter the
occurrences about the middle of May, said: ‘The sick have been brought
to the residency; so have the women; and the residency is garrisoned by
130 men of the 32d, and by the battery of native artillery. All the
ladies, wives of civilians, who live in different parts of the city,
have come into the residency. By the residency, I mean a piece of ground
a good deal elevated above the rest of the city, allotted by the King of
Oude, when he first put himself under British “protection” some fifty
years ago, to the British civil residents. It is walled round almost
entirely; on one side native houses abut upon it, but on the other three
sides it is tolerably clear. Roads without gates in some places connect
it with the city; but it is not at all a bad place to make a
stand—certainly the best in Lucknow, to which it is a sort of acropolis.
The residency contains the chief-commissioner’s house, Mr Gubbins’s, Mr
Ommaney’s, Foyne’s, the post-office, city hospital, electric-telegraph
office, church, etc.’ The ever-memorable defence made by a little band
of English heroes in this ‘acropolis’ of Lucknow, will call for our
attention in due time. Mr Polehampton spoke of the gravity with which
Sir Henry Lawrence regarded the state of public affairs; and of the
caution which led him to post _one_ English soldier at every gun, to
watch the native artillerymen. The chaplain had means of knowing with
what assiduity crafty lying men tried to gain over the still faithful
sepoys to mutiny. ‘Another most absurd story they have got hold of,
which came out in the examination of some of the mutineers before Sir
Henry Lawrence. They say that in consequence of the Crimean war there
are a great many widows in England, and that these are to be brought out
and married to the Rajahs in Oude; and that their children, brought up
as Christians, are to inherit all the estates! The natives are like
babies—they will believe anything.’—Babies in belief, perhaps; but
fiends in cruelty when excited.
The last two days of May were days of agitation at Lucknow. Many of the
native troops broke out in open mutiny. They consisted of half of the
48th regiment, about half of the 71st, some few of the 13th, and two
troops of the 7th cavalry—all of whom fled towards Seetapoor, a town
nearly due north of Lucknow. Lawrence, with two companies of her
Majesty’s 32d, three hundred horse, and four guns, went in pursuit; but
the horse, Oude native cavalry, evinced no zeal; and he was vexed to
find that he could only get within round-shot of the mutineers. He took
thirty prisoners—a very inadequate result of the pursuit. Many
disaffected still remained in Lucknow; four bungalows were burned, and a
few English officers shot. The city was quiet, but the cantonment was in
a disturbed state. In his last telegrams for the month, the
chief-commissioner, who was also chief military authority, used these
words: ‘It is difficult to say who are loyal; but it is believed the
majority are so; only twenty-five of the 7th cavalry proved false;’ and
he further said: ‘The faithful remnants of three infantry regiments and
7th cavalry, about seven hundred men, are encamped close to the
detachment of two hundred of her Majesty’s 32d and four European guns.’
Even then he did not feel much uneasiness concerning the city and
cantonment of Lucknow: it was towards other places, Cawnpore especially,
that his apprehensive glance was directed.
What were the occurrences at Lucknow, and in other towns of the
territory of Oude, in June, will be better understood when the progress
of the Revolt in other places during May has been narrated.
[Illustration:
Ekah, or Officer’s Travelling Wagon.
]
-----
Footnote 10:
By Mr Knighton, author of _Forest Life in Ceylon_.
Footnote 11:
Lacs or lakhs of rupees: a lac being 100,000, value about £10,000.
Footnote 12:
The word _telegram_, denoting a message sent, as distinguished from
the _telegraph_ which sends it, has been a subject of much discussion
among Greek scholars, concerning the validity of the grammatical basis
on which it is formed; but as the new term is convenient for its
brevity and expressiveness, and as it has been much used by the
governor-general and the various officers connected with India, it
will occasionally be employed in this work.
[Illustration:
General View of CALCUTTA from Fort William.
]
CHAPTER VII.
SPREAD OF DISAFFECTION IN MAY.
The narrative has now arrived at a stage when some kind of
classification of times and places becomes necessary. There were special
reasons why Delhi and Lucknow should receive separate attention,
connected as those two cities are with deposed native sovereigns chafed
by their deposition; but other cities and towns now await notice, spread
over many thousand square miles of territory, placed in various
relations to the British government, involved in various degrees in
mutinous proceedings, and differing much in the periods at which the
hostile demonstrations were made. Two modes of treatment naturally
suggest themselves. The towns might be treated topographically,
beginning at Calcutta, and working westward towards the Indus; this
would be convenient for reference to maps, but would separate
contemporaneous events too far asunder. Or the occurrences might be
treated chronologically, beginning from the Meerut outbreak, and
advancing, as in a diary, day by day throughout the whole series; this
would facilitate reference to dates, but would ignore local connection
and mutual action. It may be possible, however, to combine so much of
the two methods as will retain their advantages and avoid their defects;
there may be groups of days and groups of places; and these groups may
be so treated as to mark the relations both of sequence and of
simultaneity, of causes and of co-operation. In the present chapter, a
rapid glance will be taken over a wide-spread region, to shew in what
way and to what degree disaffection spread during the month of May. This
will prepare us for the terrible episode at one particular
spot—Cawnpore.
To begin, then, with Bengal—the fertile and populous region between the
Anglo-Indian city of Calcutta and the sacred Hindoo city of Benares; the
region watered by the lower course of the majestic Ganges; the region
inhabited by the patient, plodding, timid Bengalee, the type from which
Europeans have generally derived their idea of the Hindoo: forgetting,
or not knowing, that Delhi and Agra, Cawnpore and Lucknow, exhibit the
Hindoo character under a more warlike aspect, and are marked also by a
difference of language. A fact already mentioned must be constantly
borne in mind—that few Bengalees are (or were) in the Bengal army: a
population of forty millions furnished a very small ratio of fighting
men.
Although not a scene of murder and atrocity during the Revolt, Calcutta
requires a few words of notice here: to shew the relation existing
between the native and the European population, and the importance of
the city as the head-quarters of British India, the supreme seat of
legislation and justice, the residence of the governor-general, the last
great city on the course down the Ganges, and the port where more trade
is conducted than in all others in India combined.
Calcutta stands on the left bank of the Hoogly, one of the numerous
streams by which the Ganges finds an outlet into the sea. There are no
less than fourteen of these streams deep enough for the largest craft
used in inland navigation, but so narrow and crooked that the rigging of
vessels often becomes entangled in the branches of the trees growing on
the banks. The delta formed by these mouths of the Ganges, called the
Sunderbunds, is nearly as large as Wales; it is little else than a
cluster of low, marshy, irreclaimable islands, very unhealthy to the few
natives living there, and left almost wholly to tigers, wild buffaloes,
wild boars, and other animals which swarm there in great numbers. The
Hoogly is one of the few really navigable mouths of the Ganges; and by
this channel Calcutta has free access by shipping to the sea, which is
about a hundred miles distant. The city, extending along the river four
or five miles, covers an area of about eight square miles. A curved line
nearly bounds it on the land-side, formed by the Mahratta ditch, a
defence-work about a century old. Beyond the ditch, and a fine avenue
called the Circular Road, the environs are studded with numerous suburbs
or villages which may be considered as belonging to the city: among
these are Nundenbagh, Bahar-Simla, Sealdah, Entally, Ballygunge,
Bhowaneepore, Allipore, Kidderpore, Seebpore, Howrah, and Sulkea. The
three last are on the opposite or west bank of the river, and contain
the dock-yards, the ship-building establishments, the railway station,
the government salt-warehouses, and numerous extensive manufactories.
The approach to the city from the sea presents a succession of
attractive features. First, a series of elegant mansions at a bend in
the river called Garden Reach, with lawns descending to the water’s
edge; then the anchorage for the Calcutta and Suez mail-steamers; then
the dock-yards; next the canal junction, the arsenal and Fort William.
Above these is the Chowringhee, once a suburb, but now almost as closely
built as Calcutta itself, containing the Esplanade, the Town Hall, the
Government House, and many European residences. ‘Viewed from Garden
Reach,’ says Mr Stocqueler, ‘the _coup d’œil_ is one of various and
enchanting beauty. Houses like palaces are studding the bank on the
proper left of the river, and a verdure like that of an eternal summer
renovates the eye, so long accustomed to the glitter of the ocean. Anon,
on _your_ left, appears the semi-Gothic Bishop’s College; and in front
of you, every moment growing more distinct, are beheld a forest of
stately masts, a noble and beautiful fortress, a thousand small boats,
of shapes new and undreamed of by the visitant, skimming over the
stream; the larger vessels of the country, pleasant to look upon even
for their strange dis-symmetry and consequent unwieldiness; the green
barge or budgerow, lying idly for hire; and the airy little bauleahs,
with their light venetianed rooms.’ All this relates to the portion of
the city lying south or seaward of the Chandpaul Ghat, the principal
landing-place. Northward of this stretches a noble strand, on which are
situated the Custom-house, the New Mint, and other government offices.
It must be noted that, although the chief British city in India,
Calcutta in ordinary times contains no less than _seventy times_ as many
natives as English—only six thousand English out of more than four
hundred thousand inhabitants. Even if Eurasians (progeny of white
fathers and native mothers) be included, the disparity is still
enormous; and is rendered yet more so by the many thousands of natives
who, not being inhabitants, attend Calcutta at times for purposes of
trade or of worship. Many wild estimates were made a few years ago
concerning the population of Calcutta, which was sometimes driven up
hypothetically to nearly a million souls; but a census in 1850
determined the number to be four hundred and seventeen thousand persons,
living in sixty-two thousand houses and huts. The Hindoos alone exceed
two hundred and seventy thousand. Circumstances of site, as well as the
wishes and convenience of individuals, have led the Europeans to form a
community among themselves, distinct from the native Calcutta. Many
natives, it is true, live in the southern or British town; but very few
British live in the northern or native town. The latter differs little
from Indian towns generally, except in the large size of the dwellings
belonging to the wealthy inhabitants. The southern town is European in
appearance as in population; it has its noble streets, sumptuous
government offices, elegant private residences surrounded with
verandahs. On the esplanade is situated Fort William (the official name
given to Calcutta in state documents), one of the strongest in India; it
is octagonal, with three sides towards the river, and the other five
inland; and it mounts more than six hundred guns. Whatever force holds
Fort William may easily reduce Calcutta to ashes. The public buildings,
which are very numerous, comprise the following among others—the
Government House, that cost £130,000; the Town Hall, in the Doric style;
the Supreme Court of Judicature; the Madrissa and Hindoo Colleges; the
Martinière, an educational establishment founded by Martine the
Frenchman, who has been mentioned in connection with Lucknow; the
Metcalfe Hall; the Ochterlony Monument; the Prinsep Testimonial; the
Calcutta Asiatic Society’s Rooms; St Paul’s Cathedral, the finest
Christian church in India; the Bishop’s Palace and College; the European
Female Orphan Asylum; the Botanic Gardens. The Episcopalians, the
National and the Free Churches of Scotland, the Independents, the
Baptists, the Roman Catholics, the Armenians, the Jews, the Greeks—all
have places of worship in Calcutta. The native temples and mosques are
of course much more numerous, amounting to two hundred and fifty in
number.
Concerning the inhabitants, the English comprise the Company’s civil and
military servants, a few members of the learned professions, merchants,
retail-dealers, and artisans. Of the native Hindoos and Mohammedans,
exclusive of the degraded castes of the former, it is supposed that
one-third are in the service of the English, either as domestic
servants, or as under-clerks, messengers, &c. A majority of the
remainder pick up a living on the street or the river—carrying
palanquins as bearers, carrying parcels as coolies, rowing boats,
attending ships, &c. The native artisans, shopkeepers, and
market-people, fill up the number.
It will be remembered, from the details given in Chapter II., that the
authorities at Calcutta, during the first four months of the year, were
frequently engaged in considering the transactions at Dumdum,
Barrackpore, and Berhampore, connected with the cartridge grievances.
These did not affect the great city itself, the inhabitants of which
looked on as upon events that concerned them only remotely. When the
middle of May arrived, however, and when the startling news from Meerut
and Delhi became known, an uneasy feeling resulted. There was in
Calcutta a kind of undefined alarm, a vague apprehension of some hidden
danger. At that time there were six companies of the 25th Bengal
infantry, and a wing of the 47th Madras infantry, barracked on the
esplanade between the Coolie Bazaar and the fort. They were without
ammunition. There were, however, detachments of two other regiments
acting as guards in the fort, provided with ten rounds of ammunition per
man. It came to light that, on the 17th of May, the men of the 25th
asked the guards privately to be allowed to share this ammunition,
promising to aid them in capturing the fort during the following night.
This treason was betrayed by the guards to the town-major, who at once
ordered bugles to sound, and preparations to be made for defending the
fort; the drawbridges were raised, the ladders withdrawn from the
ditches, additional guards placed upon the arsenal, European sentries
placed at various points on the ramparts, and armed patrols made to
perambulate the fort during the night. The refractory sepoys, thus
checked, made no attempt to carry out their nefarious project. An
express was at once sent off to Dumdum for the remaining portion of her
Majesty’s 53d regiment, to join their comrades already at Calcutta.
Although the immense value of these English troops was at once felt, the
inhabitants of Calcutta were thrown into great excitement by the
rumoured outbreak; they talked of militia corps and volunteer corps, and
they purchased muskets and powder, rifles and revolvers, so rapidly,
that the stores of the dealers were speedily emptied.
Two demonstrations of loyalty—or rather two sets of demonstrations—were
made on this occasion, one from the Christian inhabitants, and one from
the natives. The mutineers found head-quarters not quite suited for
their operations; order was soon restored; and then all parties came
forward to state how faithful, contented, and trustworthy they were. It
is not without interest to glance at some of these demonstrations. One
was from the Calcutta Trade Association, which held a meeting on the
20th of May. The resolution agreed to was to the effect that ‘This body
do send up to government a statement that they are prepared to afford
the government every assistance in their power towards the promotion of
order and the protection of the Christian community of Calcutta, either
by serving as special constables or otherwise, in such manner as may
appear most desirable to government; and at the same time suggesting to
government that their services should be availed of in some manner, as
they deem the present crisis a most serious one, and one in which every
available means should be brought into action for the suppression of
possible riot and insurrection.’ The answer given by the
governor-general in council to the address sent up in virtue of this
resolution is worthy of note; shewing, as it does, how anxious he was to
believe, and to make others believe, that the mutiny was very partial,
and that the sepoy army generally was sound at heart. He thanked the
Trade Association for the address; he announced that he had no
apprehension whatever of riot or insurrection amongst any class of the
population at Calcutta; he asserted his possession of sufficient means
to crush any such manifestation if it should be made; but at the same
time he admitted the prudence of civilians enrolling themselves as
special constables, ready for any emergency. In reference, however, to
an opinion in the address that the sepoys generally exhibited a mutinous
spirit, he expressed uneasiness at such an opinion being publicly
announced. ‘There are in the army of this presidency many soldiers, and
many regiments who have stood firm against evil example and wicked
counsels, and who at this moment are giving unquestionable proof of
their attachment to the government, and of their abhorrence of the
atrocious crimes which have lately been perpetrated in the Northwestern
Provinces. It is the earnest desire of the governor-general in council
that honourable and true-hearted soldiers, whose good name he is bound
to protect, and of whose fidelity he is confident, should not be
included in a condemnation of rebels and murderers.’ Alas, for the
‘honourable and true-hearted soldiers!’
Another movement of the same kind was made by the Freemasons of
Calcutta—a body, the numbers of which are not stated. They passed a
resolution on the same day, ‘That at the present crisis it is expedient
that the masonic fraternity should come forward and offer their services
to government, to be employed in such manner as the governor-general may
deem most expedient.’
The Armenians resident in the city met on the following day, and agreed
to a series of resolutions which were signed by Apcar, Avdall, Agabeb,
and others of the body—declaratory of their apprehension for the safety
of Calcutta and its inhabitants; their sincere loyalty to the British
government; their grateful appreciation of its mild and paternal rule;
and their fervent hope that the energetic measures adopted would suffice
to quell the insurrectionary spirit: concluding, ‘We beg most
respectfully to convey to your lordship in council the expression of our
willingness and readiness to tender our united services to our rulers,
and to co-operate with our fellow-citizens for maintaining tranquillity
and order in the city.’ The Armenians, wherever settled, are a peaceful
people, loving trade better than fighting: their adhesion to the
government was certain.
The French inhabitants in like manner held a meeting, and sent up an
address to the governor-general by the hands of Consul Angelucci. They
said: ‘Viewing the dangers that, from one moment to another, may menace
life and property at Calcutta, all the French resident in the city unite
with one accord, and place themselves at the disposal of your excellency
in case of need; beseeching that their services may be accepted for the
common good, and as a proof of their loyalty and attachment towards her
Majesty, the Queen of England.’
It is more interesting, however, in reference to such a time and such a
place, to know in what way the influential native inhabitants comported
themselves on the occasion. The meetings held, resolutions passed, and
addresses presented, were remarkable for their earnestness, real or
apparent. Although Viscount Canning gladly and promptly acknowledged
them as valuable testimonials; yet the subsequent lying and treachery in
many quarters were such that it is impossible to decide how much or how
little sincerity was involved in declarations of loyalty. There was a
body of Hindoo gentlemen at Calcutta, called the British Indian
Association. The committee of the Association held a meeting on the 22d
of May, and the secretary, Issur Chunder Singh, forwarded an address
from the committee to the government. The address asseverated that the
atrocities at Meerut and Delhi had been heard of with great concern;
that the committee viewed with disgust and horror the excesses of the
soldiery at those stations; and that such excesses would not meet with
countenance or support from the bulk of the civil population, or from
any reputable or influential classes among them. The committee recorded
‘their conviction of the utter groundlessness of the reports which have
led a hitherto faithful body of the soldiers of the state to the
commission of the gravest crimes of which military men or civil subjects
can be guilty; and the committee deem it incumbent on them on the
present occasion to express their deep abhorrence of the practices and
purposes of those who have spread those false and mischievous reports.’
Finally, they expressed their belief that the loyalty of the Hindoos,
and their confidence in the power and good intentions of the government,
would be unimpaired by ‘the detestable efforts which have been made to
alienate the minds of the sepoys and the people of the country from
their duty and allegiance to the beneficent rule under which they are
placed.’
Three days later, a meeting was held of Hindoo persons of influence
generally, at Calcutta, without reference to the British Indian
Association; and the chairman of this meeting, Bahadoor Radhakant Rajah,
was commissioned to forward a copy of resolutions to the
governor-general. These resolutions were similar in character to those
passed by the Association; but two others were added of very decided
character: ‘That this meeting is of opinion that, should occasion
require, it would be the duty of the native portion of her Majesty’s
subjects to render the government every aid in their power for the
preservation of civil order and tranquillity; and that, with a view to
give an extensive circulation to the proceedings of this meeting,
translations of the same into the vernacular dialects of the country
shall be printed and distributed amongst the native population.’
Another Hindoo manifestation was remarkable for the mode in which the
intentions of the persons concerned were proposed to be carried out. A
meeting was held on the 23d, of ‘some young men, at the premises of
Baboo Gooroo Churn Dey, Bhowanipore, Chuckerbaria, in the suburbs of
Calcutta: to consider the best means of keeping the peace in the said
suburban town at this crisis of panic caused by some mutinous
regiments.’ These ‘young men,’ who appointed Baboo Gooroo Churn Dey and
Essan Chunder Mullick as secretary and assistant-secretary, threw into
their deliberations an abundance of youthful enthusiasm not to be found
in the resolutions of their seniors. Their plan—not expressed in, or
translated into, very good English—was: ‘That some of the members will
alternately take round at every night, with the view of catching or
detecting any wrong-doer that may be found in the work of abetting some
such malicious tales or rumours, as the town will be looted and
plundered by the sepoys on some certain day, and its inhabitants be cut
to pieces; and will, by every means in their power, impress on the minds
of timid and credulous people the idea of the mightiness of the power of
the British government to repel aggression of any foreign enemy, however
powerful and indomitable, or put down any internal disturbance and
disorder.’ They announced their success in obtaining many ‘strong and
brave men’ to aid them in this work.
The Mohammedans of Calcutta were a little behind the rest of the
inhabitants in time, but not in expressed sentiment, concerning the
position of public affairs. On the 27th, many of the leading men of that
religion held a meeting; one was a deputy-magistrate; two were pleaders
in the sudder or native courts of law; others were moulvies, moonshees,
hadjis, agas, &c.; and all signed their names in full—such as Hadji
Mahomed Hashim Ishphahanee, and Aga Mahomed Hassan Kooza Kenanee.
Nothing could be more positive than some of the assertions contained in
the resolutions passed by this meeting: ‘We subjects are well aware that
the members of the British government, from the commencement of their
dominion in Hindostan, have repeatedly declared and made known their
determination not to interfere with the religion or religious
observances of any of their subjects; and we repose entire faith in this
declaration, and assert, that up to the present time, a space of nearly
one hundred years, our religion has never been interfered with. A number
of us having left our homes, have found a dwelling and asylum under this
government, where we live in peace and safety, protected by the equity
and fostering care of the British government, and suffering no kind of
injury or loss. As we have ever lived in safety and comfort under the
British rule, and have never been molested or interfered with in
religious matters; we therefore, with the utmost eagerness and
sincerity, hereby determine, that in case of necessity we will serve the
government to the utmost of our abilities and means.’ In true oriental
form the resolutions ended, in allusion to the governor-general, ‘May
his prosperity increase!’
What _could_ Viscount Canning say to all this? How could he, in that
early stage of the commotions, but believe in the sincerity of these
men: and, believing, to thank them for their expression of loyalty and
support? His official reply, in each case, conveyed in pointed terms his
conviction that the disaffection among the sepoys was only local and
temporary. He could not at that time foresee how severely this
conviction would be put to the test.
The hostility to the governor-general, manifested at a later date by
some of the English inhabitants of Calcutta, will be noticed in its due
place.
Leaving Calcutta, the reader is invited to direct his attention to towns
and districts north and northwest, following the course of the Hoogly
and the Ganges, up to the busy scenes of mutiny and warfare. The whole
district from Calcutta to Benares _by land_ is singularly devoid of
interest. The railway is open through Burdwan to Raneegunge; but thence
to the great Hindoo capital there is scarcely a town or village worthy
of note, scarcely one in which the mutineers disturbed the peaceful
occupations of the inhabitants.
Three military stations on the Hoogly—Dumdum, Barrackpore, and
Berhampore—all concerned, as we have seen, in the cartridge
disturbances—remained quiet during the month of May, after the
disbandments. One inquiry connected with those occurrences, not yet
adverted to, must here be noticed. The conduct of Colonel S. G. Wheler,
commanding the 34th regiment B. N. I.,[13] occupied much attention on
the part of the Calcutta government, during and after the proceedings
relating to the disbanding of the seven companies of that regiment at
Barrackpore. Rumours reached the government that the colonel had used
language towards his men, indicating his expectation that they would be
converted to Christianity, and that he had addressed them on religious
subjects generally. In the usual epistolary formalism of routine, the
secretary to the government was requested to request Major-general
Hearsey to request Brigadier Grant to request Colonel Wheler to furnish
some reply to those rumours. The substance of the colonel’s reply was
contained in these words: ‘During the last twenty years and upwards, I
have been in the habit of speaking to the natives of all classes, sepoys
and others, making no distinction, since there is no respect of persons
with God, on the subject of our religion, in the highways, cities,
bazaars, and villages—not in the lines and regimental bazaars. I have
done this from a conviction that every converted Christian is expected,
or rather commanded, by the Scriptures to make known the glad tidings of
salvation to his lost fellow-creatures: our Saviour having offered
himself as a sacrifice for the sins of the whole world, by which alone
salvation can be secured.’ He quoted from the Epistle to the Romans to
prove that a Christian must necessarily be a better subject to any state
than a non-Christian. He declared, however, that he had not given the
sepoys cause for believing that any proselyting violence would be used
against their own religion. Viscount Canning, passing over in silence
the Scriptural phraseology used by Colonel Wheler, wished to ascertain
whether the colonel’s religious conversations had been held with the men
of the 34th regiment as well as with other natives: seeing that the
critical subject at that particular time was the dogged suspicion of the
sepoys of that regiment on matters affecting their faith. In a second
letter, Colonel Wheler adopted a still more decidedly evangelical tone.
He stated that it was his custom to address _all_ natives, whether
sepoys or not, on religious matters. ‘I have told them plainly that they
are all lost and ruined sinners both by nature and by practice, like
myself; that we can do nothing to save ourselves in the way of
justifying ourselves in the sight of God. Our hearts being sinful, all
our works must consequently be sinful in His sight; and therefore there
can be no salvation by works, on which they are all resting and
depending.’ This homily, singular as forming part of a military reply to
a military question, was carried to a considerable length. On matters of
plain fact, Colonel Wheler stated that it was most certain that he had
endeavoured by argument and exhortation to convert sepoys as well as
others to Christianity; that he was in the habit of enforcing by the
only standard which he could admit to be valid, objections concerning
‘the efficacy of their own works of washing in the Ganges, proceeding on
pilgrimage, worshipping all kinds of creatures instead of the Creator,
and other methods of man’s invention.’ Finally, he announced his
determination to adhere to the same policy, even if his worldly position
were injured thereby: taking shame to himself for his past lukewarmness
as a soldier of Christ.
The whole of the members of the Supreme Court at Calcutta at once
decided that an officer, holding Colonel Wheler’s views of duty, ought
not to remain in command of a native regiment, especially at such a
critical period. The question was not, whether that officer was a good
Christian, anxious to communicate to others what he himself fervently
believed; but whether the black gown was not more suitable to him than
the red coat, in such a country and at such a time.
The native troops at Barrackpore and Chittagong, after the disbandment
of the mutinous corps, made professions of loyalty and fidelity to the
government, concerning the sincerity of which it is now exceedingly
difficult to judge. One theory is, that the men were designing
hypocrites from the first; but the frequent examples of wavering and
irresolution, afforded during the progress of the mutiny, seem to shew
rather that the sepoys were affected by the strength of the temptation
and example at each particular time and place. Be this as it may, some
of the petitions and addresses deserve notice. Towards the close of May
a petition, written in the Persian character (much used in India), was
prepared by the native officers of the 70th regiment B. N. I., stationed
at Barrackpore, and presented to their commander, Colonel Kennedy. In
the names of themselves and the sepoys they said: ‘It is reported that
European troops are going up to Delhi and other places, to coerce the
mutinous and rebellious there; and we wish to be sent with them also. In
consequence of the misconduct of these traitors and scoundrels,
confidence in us is weakened, although we are devoted to government; and
we therefore trust that we may be sent wherever the European troops go;
when, having joined them, we will, by bravery even greater than theirs,
regain our good name and trustworthiness. You will then know what really
good sepoys are.’ Colonel Kennedy, in a letter to Major-general Hearsey,
expressed his full belief that the men were sincere in their
protestations; and added, that hitherto he had always been satisfied
with the regiment. So important did this manifestation appear to
Viscount Canning, that he went to Barrackpore in order to thank the men
in person. He appeared before them on parade, on the 27th, and said,
among other things: ‘Men of the 70th, I will answer your petition. You
have asked to be sent to confront the mutineers of Delhi. You shall go.
In a few days, as soon as the arrangements can be made for your
progress, you shall proceed to the northwest.’ He expressed his
conviction that they would keep their promise to vie with the Europeans
in fidelity and bravery; and added: ‘You have another duty to perform.
You are going where you will find men, your brothers in arms, who have
been deluded into the suspicion against which _you_ have kept firm, that
the government has designs against their religion or their caste. Say to
them that you at least do not credit this; that you know it to be
untrue; that for a hundred years the British government has carefully
respected the feelings of its Indian subjects in matters of caste and
religion.’
Arrangements were immediately made for sending this faithful, or
apparently faithful, regiment to districts where it might render useful
service. As there was an insufficient supply of steamers available, the
government resolved to send the regiment the whole distance from
Barrackpore to Allahabad by country boats on the Ganges—an excessively
protracted voyage of eight hundred miles, as the reader is already
aware. When the men were about to start, they expressed to Colonel
Kennedy a wish that the new Enfield rifle should be served out to them.
They declared themselves entirely satisfied with the explanations
concerning the cartridges; and they added, in a written petition to
which the names of twelve subadars and jemadars were appended: ‘We have
thought over the subject; and as we are now going up the country, we beg
that the new rifles, about which there has been so much said in the army
and all over the country, may be served out to us. By using them in its
service, we hope to prove beyond a doubt our fidelity to government; and
we will explain to all we meet that there is nothing objectionable in
them: otherwise, why should we have taken them? Are we not as careful of
our caste and religion as any of them?’ All the native officers of this
regiment, so far as can be judged from the names appended to the
petition, were Hindoos. When the 70th started to the northwest, every
effort was made by the government to set the unhappy cartridge troubles
wholly at rest, and to enlist the services of the sepoys of that
regiment in diffusing among their compatriots a knowledge of the real
facts. Orders, instructions, memoranda, circulars were brought into
requisition to explain—that the new rifle fired nine hundred yards,
against the two hundred yards’ range of the old musket; that it was
lighter than the musket; that its great range and its lightness caused
it to be introduced into the Anglo-Indian army; that the new
rifle-bullets, requiring machinery for their manufacture, were sent out
from England in a finished state; that a few cartridges for those
bullets were in the first instance sent out ready prepared with a
lubricant, but that the Indian government resolved not to issue them to
the native troops, in deference to their religious scruples; that the
cartridge-paper had long been, and would continue to be, made at
Serampore, without any admixture of grease; that every native regiment
would be allowed to lubricate its cartridges with any suitable substance
preferred by the men; and that the practice of biting off the ends of
the cartridges might be wholly dispensed with. In short, everything that
could be done, was done, to remove a suspicion unsound in its origin,
and pernicious in its continuance.
Another regiment, the 34th B. N. I., adopted nearly the same course as
the 70th. The larger portion of this regiment, it will be remembered,
was at Barrackpore at the time of the cartridge troubles; but the rest
was at Chittagong. The sepoys in this last-named detachment came forward
with a very pointed declaration of their loyalty. Captain Dewaal, in
command of that detachment, assembled his men one day towards the end of
April, and told them how shamefully their companions had acted at
Barrackpore, and how much disgrace had thereby been brought upon the
regiment. Two days afterwards, an address or petition was presented to
him, signed by the subadars and havildars in the names of all; in which
regret was expressed for the conduct of the mutineers at Barrackpore.
‘By a careful performance,’ the petitioners said, ‘of our duties, we
have gained a reputation for fidelity to government. These men have
deprived us of it. We well know that the government will not interfere
with our religion. We hope that the government will consider us as
faithful as ever; and we pray that this petition may be sent to the
governor-general, in order that his lordship may know the state of our
feelings.’ Three or four weeks later, when this remnant of the regiment
had been removed to Barrackpore, the men made another profession of
their loyalty. In a petition to their commander, they said: ‘Some
evil-disposed men of the regiment have deprived us of the reputation for
loyalty which we have ever held. They have received the fruits of their
misconduct by being disbanded. We that remain are willing to serve
against the mutineers at Delhi, and are anxious to recover our lost
name. We pray that the government will ever regard us as faithful
soldiers.’
Two further examples of a similar kind were presented, one by the 43d
and another by the 63d regiments B. N. I. About the end of May, the
commandant of the first of these two regiments at Barrackpore, received
a petition signed by the native commissioned officers, praying that the
regiment might be allowed to proceed against the mutineers at Delhi—a
wish that had been previously expressed to him on parade. Nearly at the
same time Captain Pester, commanding the 63d at Berhampore, received a
petition signed by the whole of the native officers on parade, intended
to be forwarded to the governor-general; and, this petition being
afterwards read in the native language to the whole regiment, the sepoys
unanimously expressed their concurrence in the sentiments it conveyed.
The petitioners said: ‘We have this day heard on parade the order issued
by your lordship consequent on the petition forwarded by the native
officers and sepoys of the 70th regiment of native infantry. On hearing
the same, we were greatly rejoiced; for, in truth, all the men of that
regiment have behaved as becomes loyal and faithful soldiers, and your
lordship has in every way been pleased with them. Now do we also all
petition that we may be numbered among the good and trustworthy soldiers
of the state, as we have always been; and we are prepared and ready,
with heart and hand, to go wherever, and against whomsoever you may
please to send us, should it even be against our own kinsmen.’
The governor-general could do no other than receive these
demonstrations. Whether he acceded to the request for permission to
‘march against the mutineers,’ depended necessarily on the military
arrangements of the time; whether he fully believed the protestations,
may perhaps be doubted, although no disbelief was expressed.
Happily for Bengal, it was affected by few of the disturbances that
agitated the more western provinces. Consulting a map, we shall see that
the banks of the Hoogly and the Lower Ganges are thickly studded with
towns; and it may here at once be stated, that the peaceful industry of
these towns was very little interrupted during the month of May. Tracing
upwards from Calcutta, we meet with Dumdum, Barrackpore, and Serampore,
the first two of which experienced a lull after the storm. Serampore was
once the _Alsatia_ of Calcutta, a place of refuge for schemers,
insolvent debtors, and reckless adventurers; but the Company bought it
from the Danish government, to which it had belonged, and the Baptist
missionaries helped to civilise it; it is now a clean cheerful town,
with a large paper-manufactory. Higher up is the once flourishing but
now decayed town of Chandernagore, one of the few places in India still
belonging to the French. Near this is Chinsura, held by the Dutch until
1825, but now a flourishing settlement belonging to the Company,
provided with an extensive military depôt for Europeans, with a
magnificent hospital and barracks. Then we come to Hoogly, a town
bearing the same name as the river on whose banks it stands: a busy
place, with many civil and educational establishments. Further north is
Plassy, the place near which Clive fought the great battle that
virtually gave India to the British. Beyond this is Berhampore, which,
very refractory in March and April, had become tractable and obedient in
May. Next we meet with Moorshedabad and its suburb Cossimbazar. Once the
capital of Bengal when a Mohammedan dominion, Moorshedabad contained a
splendid palace belonging to the nawab; but though no longer possessed
of this kind of greatness, the city is commercially very important, as
standing on the great highway, or rather water-way, from Calcutta to the
northwest. All the places above named are situated either on the Hoogly
or on the Bhagruttee, those two rivers combining to form the most
convenient outlet from the Ganges to the sea.
The Ganges itself, too—the majestic, far-famed, sacred Ganges—was little
disturbed by commotions in May throughout the lower part of its course.
Rajmahal, Bhagulpore, Curruckpore, Monghir, Behar, Futwah, Patna,
Hajeepoor, Dinapoor, Chupra, Arrah, Bishunpore, Buxar, Ghazeepore—all
lie on or near the Ganges between the Hoogly and Benares. Some of these
places are centres of commerce for the opium-trade; some are busy with
the trading in rice grown in neighbouring districts; others are
shipping-places for corn and other agricultural produce; while all
regard the Ganges as an invaluable channel, affording intercourse with
the rich districts of the west, and with the great focus of authority
and trade at Calcutta. Such of these towns as were involved in trouble
in later months of the year, will be noticed in the proper chapters; of
the others, this narrative is not called upon to treat. One fact,
however, may be mentioned in connection with Dinapoor. So early in the
year as the middle of February, the Calcutta authorities wrote to the
commander at that town, apprising him that a messenger was known to have
been sent to the native regiment at Dinapoor, from some men of the 2d
Bengal grenadiers, inciting them to mutiny. Major-general Lloyd promised
to look out sharply for the messenger, but candidly expressed a doubt
whether the astute native would suffer himself to be caught.
Benares may conveniently be described at once; for, whether disturbed or
not by mutineers, it is so remarkably situated as to lie in the line of
route of all commerce, all aggression, all military movement, between
Calcutta and the upper provinces, whether by road, by rail, or by water.
Regarded in this light, its possession and security are, and were in an
especial degree during the mutiny, objects of the highest importance.
This renowned city stands on the left bank of the Ganges, about four
hundred and twenty miles by road from Calcutta, and seventy-four from
Allahabad. The magnificent river, half a mile wide in the rainy season,
forms a kind of semicircular bay in front of the city, which has thus
three miles of river-frontage. Among the chief characteristics of
Benares are the ghats or flights of fine broad freestone steps, giving
access to the river: mostly very solid in construction, and in some
cases highly decorated. So numerous are they, that they extend almost in
a continuous line along the river’s banks, interrupted here and there by
temples. ‘Upon these ghats,’ says a lively traveller, ‘are passed the
busiest and happiest hours of every Hindoo’s day: bathing, dressing,
praying, preaching, lounging, gossiping, or sleeping, there will be
found. Escaping from the dirty, unwholesome, and confined streets, it is
a luxury for him to sit upon the open steps and taste the fresh air of
the river; so that on the ghats are concentrated the pastimes of the
idler, the duties of the devout, and much of the necessary intercourse
of business.’ Artists in India have delighted to portray the beauty and
animation of this scene; but they cannot, if they would, reveal the
hideous accompaniments—the fakeers and ascetics of revolting appearance,
‘offering every conceivable deformity which chalk, cow-dung, disease,
matted locks, distorted limbs, and repulsive attitudes of penance, can
shew.’
Benares, beyond any other place in India, perhaps, is studded with
religious structures. Thirty years ago the Moslem mosques were more than
three hundred in number, while the Hindoo temples exceeded a thousand.
The pinnacles of the Hindoo pagodas combine to give a very picturesque
appearance to the city, viewed from a distance. Large as the number is,
the Benares temples, as has been sarcastically observed, are not too
many, for religion is ‘the staple article of commerce, through which the
holy city flourishes and is enriched.’ The Mohammedan mosques, mostly
situated in the northeast quarter of the city, are generally elegant
little edifices crowned by small slender minarets, each standing in a
garden planted with tamarinds. Most of them have been constructed on the
sites, and with the materials, of demolished Hindoo temples. By far the
grandest is the great mosque of Aurungzebe, built by that emperor on the
site of a temple of Vishnu, which he destroyed to signalise the triumph
of Islamism over Brahminism. It rises from the platform above the
Madhoray Ghat. The minars or minarets, admired for their simplicity and
boldness, taper from eight feet in diameter at the bottom to seven at
the top; and though so slender, they are carried up to a height of a
hundred and fifty feet, and have each an interior staircase from bottom
to top. The streets of Benares have the usual oriental character of
narrowness, crookedness, and dirtiness; they are mere alleys, indeed,
that will admit no wheel-carriages; nor can beasts of burden pass
without sorely disturbing pedestrians. The houses are more lofty than in
most Indian cities, generally from three to six stories high; and as the
upper stories usually project beyond the lower, the narrow street is
almost closed in above: nay, in some cases, the inmates of one house can
walk over to the opposite tenement through the upper windows. The houses
are, in the better streets, built of stone, small-windowed and gaily
painted. During the hot season the citizens are much accustomed to sleep
in screened enclosures on the roof, open to the sky above, and to the
night-breezes around. There are somewhat under two hundred thousand
inhabitants, who live in about thirty thousand houses.
[Illustration:
Ghat on the Ganges.
]
Benares is a religious, not a military city. The district around was at
a very remote period the seat of an independent Hindoo state, founded,
according to native tradition, twelve hundred years before the Christian
era. It subsequently formed part of the dominions of the Rajpoot
sovereigns. Then began the Mussulman rule, and Benares became a
dependent province under the Moguls. The nawab-viziers of Oude, when the
Mogul power was declining, seized Benares; and during some of the
political jugglery of the year 1775, the territory was transferred to
the East India Company, by whom it has ever since been held. But under
whatever dynasty it has been placed, Benares has from remote ages been
known as the sacred city of the Hindoos, where all that is remarkable,
all that is abominable, in Brahminism, flourishes. It has been described
as the Jerusalem of Hindostan—swarming with religious teachers,
devotees, mendicants, and sacred bulls. To wash in the Ganges in front
of Benares, to die in that city, are precious privileges to the Hindoo.
Some writers have given the inhabitants a bad character in what concerns
loyalty to their present British rulers. ‘Benares is one of the most
unsafe and rebellious cities in Hindostan. It once successfully opposed
a house-tax imposed on the people by the British government. There was
also recently a strong commotion when the magistrate attempted to
equalise the weights and measures. To shew the hostility of the Hindoos
of Benares to the English, it may be mentioned that when we lay before
Bhurtpore in 1826, no less than thirty thousand sabres were sharpened at
the cutlers’ in expectation of our repulse.’ If this statement be well
founded, it does indeed denote a perilous state of feeling at the time
in question.
Benares, we have said, is not a military city; but so important a place
could not safely be left unguarded. Accordingly a British cantonment has
been built at Secrole, two or three miles to the northwest. Secrole
contains not only the barracks and huts for soldiers, but various civil
establishments, and the residences of most of the British population of
Benares. The cantonment consists of the usual buildings belonging to the
head-quarters of a military division of the Company’s army, and capable
of accommodating three or four regiments; it lies on both sides of a
small stream called the Burnah Nuddee, crossed by the great road from
Benares to Allahabad. On the side of the cantonment furthest from the
city are the bungalows of the various officials and European residents:
substantially built, well fitted and appointed, and surrounded by
pleasant gardens. There are, among the public buildings, a Christian
church and chapel, a court of justice, the treasury, the jail, and a
mint—the last named never yet appropriated to its destined purpose.
Secrole is thus, in effect, the British portion of Benares.
Another military station, subordinate to Benares, Chunar or Chunargur,
is about sixteen miles distant; indeed, being nearly midway between
Benares and Mirzapore, it may be an auxiliary to either in time of need.
Chunar is a town of about twelve thousand inhabitants, standing on a
plateau or elevated cliff close to the Ganges. It was regarded as a
stronghold more than three centuries ago; and, like many other places in
the neighbourhood, belonged to the great Mogul; from whom, in lapse of
time, it was wrested by the ambitious nawab-viziers of Oude; until at
length it fell into the hands of the British. It was for some years the
Company’s principal artillery depôt for the Northwestern Provinces. The
fortified portion of the town, on the heights, is surrounded by a
rampart a little over a mile in circuit, and from ten to twenty feet
high, guarded by towers, and in its turn completely commanding the river
and its banks. The space enclosed by this wall or rampart, however, has
very little of a military aspect; part is open grass-land; part occupied
by bungalows and gardens of Europeans; part by the governor’s house, the
hospital, and the state prison; and part by the ancient Hindoo palace, a
massy vaulted edifice presenting little of its original splendour. An
article of Hindoo faith is recorded in connection with a slab of black
marble in a small square court of this palace; to the effect that ‘the
Almighty is seated personally, though invisibly, on this stone, for nine
hours each day, removing during the other three hours to Benares;’ so
that the fort, in sepoy belief, can only be taken between the hours of
six and nine in the morning. Considered in a military sense, the fort is
by no means strong; nevertheless the steepness of the ascent would
render storming difficult; and to increase this difficulty, the garrison
was wont in former times to keep a number of large rudely made
stone-cylinders at hand, to roll down upon a besieging force. The
citadel or stronghold is in the northeastern part of the enclosure; it
is mounted with several cannon, and has a bomb-proof magazine. The
native town, consisting principally of two-storied stone-houses, is
spread over a slope lying eastward of the fortifications. The English
dwellings, and the station for invalid soldiers, are lower down the
slope.
As soon as the Revolt began, the safety of Benares became an object of
much solicitude to the governor-general at Calcutta, to Sir Henry
Lawrence at Lucknow, and indeed to all the Company’s servants: seeing
that the maintenance of free communication would greatly depend on the
peaceful condition of that city. We have seen that telegrams passed
almost daily between Benares and the other chief cities in May; intended
partly to facilitate the transport of reinforcements to the northwest,
and in part also to insure the tranquillity of Benares itself. About the
middle of the month the military commandant had to announce that there
had been some excitement in the 37th native infantry; that a Sikh
regiment had been sent on to Mirzapore and Allahabad; that the 13th
irregular cavalry were at Sultanpore; and that his position was rather
weak. On the 18th he telegraphed for aid: stating that ‘if one hundred
European infantry could be spared for duty here, it would restore
confidence, and make Benares more secure, so as to maintain
communication with the northwest.’ General Lloyd was asked whether he
could spare that much-coveted reinforcement—a hundred Europeans—from
Dinapoor. About the same time the commandant was directed to defend
Chunar fort with European invalids and veterans, and to keep the native
infantry regiment at hand in Benares. Mr Tucker, civil commissioner,
writing to the government on the same day, spoke of the ‘bold policy’
which had been adopted when the 37th shewed disaffection; the Europeans
remaining in their houses, and acting so as neither to exhibit nor
inspire distrust—instead of attempting to escape. On the 19th,
arrangements were completed for sending a company of her Majesty’s 84th
from Dumdum to Benares, in five separate parties of twenty-one each, in
transit-carriages. By the 19th, the irregular cavalry had been brought
in from Sultanpore, and every precaution taken to guard against a
surprise—insomuch that the Europeans at neighbouring stations were
looking to Benares as a sort of stay and support. More than once
allusion was made, by the civil commissioner at that city, to the
tactics of serenity, as a medium between severity and fright. One of the
telegrams told that ‘Brigadier Ponsonby carries out Colonel Gordon’s
quiet policy of shewing no fear or distrust; not a muscle is moved.’
Until towards the close of the month, Benares was included in the
military command of which Dinapoor was the centre; but as the distance
between the two towns is a hundred and fifty miles, Brigadier Ponsonby
received permission to act for himself, irrespective of control from
General Lloyd.
The 31st of May found Benares and its neighbourhood at peace. How close
at hand were days of violence and bloodshed—a future chapter will shew.
We have now left Bengal, both in its original and in the Company’s
acceptation of that term, and have arrived within the territories
grouped together as the Northwest Provinces. From Benares and Chunargur,
as a glance at the map will shew, the course of the Ganges, of the great
trunk-road, and of the railway in process of construction, brings us to
Mirzapore—a town not actually thrown into rebellion during the month of
May, but placed between two foci of inflammable materials, Benares and
Allahabad, and liable at any time to be inflamed by them. Mirzapore is
on the right bank of the Ganges, which is half a mile wide at this spot,
and is crossed by a ferry in the absence of a bridge. It is a great
commercial city, with about eighty thousand inhabitants; the emporium of
the cotton trade of Bundelcund and the adjacent provinces; not rich in
Mohammedan or Hindoo antiquities or splendour, associated with few
military events, but wealthy on account of its industry. The Company’s
military cantonment, as in so many other parts of India, is two or three
miles out of the town; indeed, this is a fact that must be borne in mind
throughout, as a necessary condition to the understanding of events
connected with the Revolt.
Approaching now the Jumna regions, the plot thickens and the characters
increase in number. We come to that rich country, the Doab, watered on
the one side by the Ganges and on the other by the Jumna, with Oude and
Rohilcund on the north, Bundelcund and Scindiah’s territory on the
south. We find a considerable number of large and important
towns—Lucknow, Fyzabad, Bareilly, Allahabad, Futtehpoor, Cawnpore,
Furruckabad, Gwalior, Bhurtpore, Agra, Delhi, Meerut—in the immediate
vicinity of one or other of these two rivers. The Company’s military
stations are far more thickly posted in that region than in any other
part of India—a source of weakness in the midst of apparent strength;
for as the native troops were predominant in all these places, their
numbers became a manifest evil as soon as a mutinous spirit appeared
among the men.
This chapter being mainly intended, as already explained, to shew how
remarkably the materials for explosion were accumulating during the
month of May, to burst forth with frightful violence in June, we shall
glance rapidly and touch lightly here on many of the towns situated
westward of Mirzapore, in order to place the reader in a position to
understand what will follow—treating of sudden outrages and strange
escapes in some few cases, and in others of a deceitful calm before a
storm.
Allahabad, in a military sense, is a more important post than any
between it and Calcutta: indeed, there are few to equal it throughout
India. This is due principally to the fact that it lies at the junction
of the two great rivers Ganges and Jumna, the northern side being washed
by the one, the southern by the other. It occupies the most eastern, or
rather southeastern point of the rich and fertile Doab; it lies in the
direct water-route from Calcutta to both of the upper rivers; it is a
main station on the great trunk-road from Calcutta to the Punjaub, and
on the East India Railway now in course of construction; and a bridge
will carry that railway across the Jumna close to it. No wonder,
therefore, if the eyes of all were directed anxiously towards Allahabad
during the mutinies and consequent struggles. The fort and arsenal are
among the largest and finest in India. The fort rises direct from the
point of confluence of the two rivers, and is on that side nearly
impregnable. It is a mile and a half in circuit, five-sided, stone
built, and bastioned. Two of the sides, near the water, are old, and
weak as against a European force; the other three are modern, and, with
their bastions and ravelins, command the city and the country beyond.
Bishop Heber remarked that Allahabad fort had lost in grandeur what it
had gained in strength: the lofty towers having been pruned down into
bastions and cavaliers, and its high stone ramparts obscured by turf
parapets and a sloping external glacis. The principal gate of the fort,
surmounted by a dome with a wide hall beneath, and surrounded by arcades
and galleries, forms a very majestic ornament. The arsenal, situated
within the fort, is one of great magnitude, containing (before the
Revolt) arms for thirty thousand men, an immense park of artillery, and
the largest powder-magazine in Upper India. Altogether, it is a place of
great strength, probably impregnable to natives, and fitted to bear a
prolonged and formidable siege. In a part of the fort overlooking the
Jumna is an ancient and spacious palace, formerly fitted up as
residences for the superior European officers, but latterly used for
state prisoners. From a balcony perched near the summit of a tower on
which the windows of one of the chambers open, a scene is presented, of
which European travellers in India speak with much admiration. The
spectator looks down upon a grove of mango-trees, flanking a fine
esplanade, and peopled with innumerable ring-necked paroquets. Above, on
pediment, pinnacle, and turret, others of the feathered tribe build
their nests and plume their wings. Along the thickly wooded shores on
the north or Allahabad side of the Jumna, buildings of various degrees
of interest are seen interspersed with the small islands which speckle
the river; while the opposite or Bundelcund shore forms a noble
background to the picture. In the days before the Revolt, the European
troops of the garrison were accommodated in well-constructed barracks
within the fort; while the military cantonment for the native troops lay
northwest of it.
The city of Allahabad, westward of the fort, and on the Jumna shore, is
scarcely worthy of its magnificent situation. It contains seventy
thousand inhabitants; but its streets and houses are poor; nor do the
mosques and temples equal those in many other parts of Hindostan, though
the gardens and tomb of Sultan Khosroo and his serai are almost
unequalled in India. There is a particular spot, outside the fort, where
the actual confluence of the two great rivers is considered to take
place; and this presents the liveliest scene in the whole city. One
traveller tells of the great numbers of pilgrims of both sexes, anxious
to bathe in the purifying waters; and of devotees who, causing earthen
vessels to be fastened round their waists or to their feet, proceed in a
boat to the middle of the stream, and precipitate themselves into the
water—supposing that by this self-immolation they secure eternal bliss.
Another states that when a pilgrim arrives here—Benares, Gyayah, and
Allahabad being frequently included in the same pilgrimage—he sits down
on the brink of the river, and causes his head and body to be so shaved
that each hair may fall into the water—for the sacred writings promise
the pilgrim a million years’ residence in heaven for every hair thus
deposited—and that, after shaving and bathing, he performs the obsequies
of his deceased ancestors. The Brahmins are the money-makers at these
spots; each has his little platform, standing in the water, where he
assists in the operations by which the pilgrim is supposed to become
holy. Skinner describes the whole scene as a kind of religious fair.
[Illustration:
City and Fort of ALLAHABAD.
]
When the events at Meerut and Delhi became known at Allahabad, the
native troops shewed much excitement. One of them, the 6th Bengal
infantry, drew down encomiums for fidelity, in offering to march and
fight against the insurgents; whether all the officers believed the men,
may be doubted; but the chief authorities did not deem themselves
justified in shewing distrust. Thanks came from Calcutta for the
manifestation of loyalty made by the regiment—a loyalty destined to be
of brief duration. A detachment of her Majesty’s 84th reached Allahabad
on the 23d of May, sent up from Calcutta by the laboriously tedious
methods lately described. There being some disturbance expected at the
jail, the detachment was sent into the fort, and held in readiness to
proceed to the cantonment with two guns; but as the alarm ceased for a
time, the troops were sent on to Cawnpore, where much more anxiety was
felt. Lieutenant Brasyer commanded four hundred Sikhs of the Ferozpore
regiment in the fort; while Captain Hazelwood took charge of the
European artillerymen. About two hundred Englishwomen and children were
in the fort; and all hoped that the native troops in the cantonment
could and would be kept in subjection. How far this hope was well
founded, will be shewn in a future chapter.
Lucknow and the important territory of Oude, so far as concerns the
events in May, have already been treated. The relations of the British
government to the court of Oude, the assiduous exertions of Sir Henry
Lawrence to maintain subordination and tranquillity, and the vigorous
measures adopted by him against the mutineers at Lucknow towards the
close of the month of May, were followed by occurrences in June which
will come for notice in their proper place.
Of Cawnpore—a name never to be uttered by an English tongue without a
thrill of horror, an agony of exasperated feeling—all notice will be
postponed until the next chapter; not because the hapless beings there
residing were free from peril in the month of May, but because the
tragedy must be treated continuously as a whole, each scene leading
forward to the hideous climax. Suffice it at present to know that
Cawnpore contained so many English men and women, and so many mutinous
native troops, that all eyes were anxiously directed towards the
progress of events at that city.
Let us turn to towns and districts further westward.
[Illustration:
Agra Fort.
]
Agra, once the capital of the Patan emperors, is the chief city of the
Northwestern Provinces. Delhi is historically, and in population, more
important; but was still at that time nominally under another sovereign;
whereas Agra has been British territory since 1803, and is very well
suited for a seat of government. The city, like Delhi, is situated on
the right bank of the Jumna, and will, like it, be at some future time
accommodated by the East India railway. In round numbers, its distance
from Delhi is a hundred and fifty miles; from Calcutta, a little under
eight hundred; and from Lahore, five hundred. The boundary of the old
city encloses a space of twelve square miles; but not more than half of
this is at present occupied by houses. There is one fine street, with
houses built of red sandstone; the remaining streets are mostly narrow,
with very small, insignificant-looking shops. The public buildings are
numerous, and some of them very magnificent, telling of the past days of
imperial glory and splendour. One is the palace of Shahjehan; small, but
rendered very beautiful by its white marble surfaces, arabesques and
mosaics, carvings of flowers, inlayings of black and yellow marble,
enrichments of gilding, screen-works of marble and metal, fountains in
the mosaic pavements. Near this is Shahjehan’s audience-chamber, as
large as the palace itself, originally enclosed by arcades hung with
tapestries. And also close at hand is the Moti Musjid or Pearl Mosque;
with an exterior of red sandstone and an interior of white marble; a
court with arcades and a fountain; a vestibule raised on steps; three
terraces surmounted by beautiful domes; and nine elegant kiosks
equidistant along the front. But the crowning beauty of Agra in its
Mohammedan aspect is the celebrated Taj Mahal, a little way outside the
city. This was the mausoleum of Shahjehan and his favourite sultaness
Nurjehan, the ‘Light of the world,’ and occupied in its construction
twenty thousand men during a period of more than twenty years. Page
after page of travellers’ descriptions are occupied with this glorious
structure—its façade of a thousand feet in length; its dazzling
whiteness of marble; its mosques, at either end, with their domes; its
stupendous marble terraced platform, with steps and pillars, minarets
and kiosks; its great dome surmounted by gilded globes and crescents;
its octagonal shrine or sepulchral apartment, with enclosures of
extraordinary marble latticework; and its sarcophagi, literally covered
with arabesques, fanciful mouldings, sculptured flowers, and
inscriptions from the Koran.
What a mockery of past grandeur is all this now! Shahjehan, two
centuries ago, was kept closely a prisoner in his splendour at Agra,
while his ambitious son, Aurungzebe, was seizing the throne at Delhi;
and now another race is dominant in both of those cities. Shahjehan’s
audience-chamber has had its arcades walled up, and is converted into an
arsenal for and by the British; and near it are now an armoury, a
medical depôt, and a district collectorate treasury. Nearly all the
once-imperial buildings are within the fort, a large place nearly a mile
in circuit; it contained a hundred and sixty guns when Lord Lake
captured it in 1803. Adjacent to the city, on the west, is the
government-house, the official residence of the lieutenant-governor of
the Northwestern Provinces; and in various places are numerous buildings
belonging to the Company, for revenue, magisterial, and judicial
establishments. The military lines are outside the city-wall. Before the
Revolt, this station was within the Meerut military division, and was
usually occupied by a considerable body of European and native troops.
It was a fact of small importance in peaceful times, but of some moment
when rebellion arose, that the civilians and writers in the public
offices were accustomed to live three or four miles from the cantonment
containing the military, quite on the opposite suburb of Agra. None
would live in the city itself, unless compelled, owing to the intense
heat. It will be well to bear in mind that the fort at Agra was, as just
noticed, not merely a post or stronghold, indicated by its name, but a
vast enclosure containing most of the palatial as well as the defensive
buildings, and ample enough to contain all the Europeans usually
residing in the city and its vicinity—large enough in dimensions, strong
enough in defences, provided a sufficient supply of food were stored
within its walls. Here, as at Delhi, Lucknow, Allahabad, and other
places, the due understanding of the mutinous proceedings requires an
appreciation of this fact—that the _city_, the _fort_, and the
_cantonment_ were all distinct.
Agra, being the seat of government for the Northwest Provinces, was
naturally the city to which the Calcutta authorities looked for
information touching the Revolt; and Mr Colvin, the lieutenant-governor,
was assiduously engaged in collecting details, so far as telegraphs and
dâks permitted. On the night of the 10th of May he received sinister
news from the postmaster at Meerut, telling of deeds of violence being
at that moment committed. Next he heard that a young sepoy, mounted on a
travelling troop-horse, was stopped at Bolundshuhur, on suspicion of
being _en route_ to excite other sepoy regiments to rebellion. On the
13th, it was ascertained that a few sepoys were on their way from Meerut
through Allygurh to Agra, bent on mischief; and that others were
supposed to be advancing from Delhi. So little, however, did Mr Colvin
apprehend serious results, that when Scindiah, the maharajah of Gwalior,
came forward to offer his body-guard of three hundred men, and a battery
of artillery, as an aid to the Company, the governor accepted the offer
as ‘a personal compliment for a short time;’ but in the same message
saying, ‘though we really do not require more troops.’ This was
obviously said on the supposition that the native troops in and near
Agra would not be affected by the rebellious epidemic prevailing further
northward; a supposition destined to be sadly overturned. Nevertheless
the government made arrangements for placing at the disposal of Mr
Colvin two regiments of irregular horse from regions further west. Day
after day did evidence arrive shewing that the various districts around
were gradually becoming disturbed. On the 15th, the governor reviewed
the native regiments in Agra, and, finding them deeply impressed with a
conviction that the government intended in some way to degrade their
caste, gave them the most positive assurance that they had been grossly
deceived by such reports. He believed his explanation to have given
satisfaction.
Towards the close of the month a step was taken by Mr Colvin which
brought him into collision with his superiors in power. As
lieutenant-governor of the Northwest Provinces, surrounded on every side
by a teeming population, he wished to believe that the native troops as
a body would still remain faithful, and that an indulgent tone towards
them would effect more than severity to bring the erring back to a sense
of their duty. It was not a thoughtless proceeding: if wrong, the
mistake arose from the estimate formed of the native character, and of
the effect which indulgence would produce. ‘Hope,’ he said, in a letter
to the governor-general, ‘I am firmly convinced, should be held out to
all those who were not ringleaders or actually concerned in murder and
violence. Many are in the rebels’ ranks because they could not get away;
many certainly thought we were tricking them out of their caste; and
this opinion is held, however unwisely, by the mass of the population,
and even by some of the more intelligent classes.’ When he found some of
the troopers of the Gwalior Contingent, on whose fidelity much reliance
had been placed, become mutinous on the 24th of May, he resolved on
issuing a proclamation, based on the supposition that ‘this mutiny was
not one to be put down by indiscriminating high-horsed authority.’ The
pith of his proclamation was contained in these words: ‘Soldiers,
engaged in the late disturbances, who are desirous of going to their own
homes, and who give up their arms at the nearest government civil or
military post, and retire quietly, shall be permitted to do so
unmolested.’’ To this another sentence was added, in a less prominent
form: ‘Every evil-minded instigator in the disturbances, and those
guilty of heinous crimes against private persons, shall be punished.’ Mr
Colvin earnestly solicited the assent of the Calcutta government to this
proclamation; but the assent was as earnestly withheld. Viscount Canning
telegraphed orders back to Agra to recall the proclamation as quickly as
possible, and to substitute another sent for that purpose. ‘Use every
possible means to stop the circulation of the proclamation ... do
everything to stop its operation.’ Mr Colvin was obliged to announce the
abrogation of his own proclamation by a second which contained these
words: ‘Every soldier of a regiment which, although it has deserted its
post, has not committed outrages, will receive free pardon if he
immediately deliver up his arms to the civil or military authority, and
if no heinous crimes be shewn to have been perpetrated by himself
personally. This offer of free and unconditional pardon _cannot be
extended to those regiments which have killed or wounded their officers
or other persons, or which have been concerned in the commission of
cruel outrages_.’ Mr Colvin wished to pardon all who would give up their
arms, except a few ringleaders, and persons individually engaged in
outrage; while Viscount Canning wished to exempt from this pardon such
regiments as had been engaged in the murderous atrocities at Meerut,
Delhi, and elsewhere. General Anson, the commander-in-chief, died before
his opinion could be sought; but the Calcutta government, and (at a
later date) the British government and the British public, agreed with
the governor-general. Mr Colvin was placed in a most perplexing
position; for he was called upon to overturn his own proceedings,
thereby departing from a plan which he believed adequate for the purpose
in view, and weakening his authority in the eyes of the natives. Canning
telegraphed to Colvin: ‘The embarrassment in which your proclamation
will place the government and the commander-in-chief is very great;’
while Colvin telegraphed to Canning: ‘Openly to undo my public act,
where really no substantial change is made, would fatally shake my power
for good.’ Brigadier Sibbald, commanding the Rohilcund division, with
Bareilly for his head-quarters, joined Mr Colvin in opinion on this
matter; he said: ‘Were the men under my command fully convinced that
_the past should be forgotten_, I feel assured their loyalty and good
conduct may be relied upon.’ The general tendency of opinion has been
that stern measures were necessary at that crisis; but it was
unquestionably infelicitous that these contradictory views should have
been held at such a time in high quarters.
Mr Colvin, perpetually harassed with the accounts daily received from
the various important towns included in his government, was nevertheless
secure at Agra itself until towards the close of the month of May. Then,
however, he found stern measures necessary. Having two regiments of
native infantry with him, the 44th and the 67th, he sent two companies,
one of each regiment, to Muttra (on the Delhi road), to bring down
treasure to Agra. On the road, they mutinied, murdered some of their
officers, and hastened to join the insurgents at Delhi. Mr Colvin at
once resolved to disarm the remaining companies of those regiments: this
he was enabled to do by the presence of the 3d Europeans and Captain
D’Oyley’s European field-battery; and the disarming was quietly effected
on the 1st of June. Shortly afterwards, a corps of volunteer horse was
raised among the Europeans at Agra, and placed under the command of
Lieutenant Greathed—one of three brothers at that time actively engaged
in the Company’s service. This corps rendered good service by putting
down rebellious petty chieftains in the neighbourhood. Mr Colvin felt
the full weight of his position; the governor-general was far from him
in one direction, Sir John Lawrence far in another; while Sir Henry
Lawrence had no troops to spare, and the commander-in-chief could
scarcely be heard of.
The great Mahratta stronghold, Gwalior, did not become a scene of mutiny
until June; we therefore need not notice the city or its chief,
Scindiah, in this place; but by following the fortunes of a portion of
the Gwalior Contingent, a regiment of irregular horse, we shall learn
much concerning the state of the country round Agra, and of the active
services required from the English officers. Mr Colvin having accepted
the proffered services of the contingent from the maharajah, Lieutenant
Cockburn received orders to head half the regiment, together with a
battery of guns. He started on the 13th of May from Gwalior, and
accomplished the distance of ninety miles to Agra by the 15th, without
knocking up man or horse. On the 18th, news arrived that troubles had
broken out at Allygurh, fifty-five miles north of Agra, and that the
services of the contingent were necessary for the protection of the
ladies and the civilians. Cockburn with his troopers marched thirty-four
miles to Hattrass on that day, and the remaining twenty-one miles on the
19th—seeking shelter from the tremendous mid-day heat in any dilapidated
building that might offer; and each officer keeping in store his only
clean shirt ‘to meet the fugitive ladies from Allygurh.’ What he saw,
and what he had yet to see, at Allygurh, was serious enough. This town
was destined to affect the operations of the British, not so much by its
intrinsic importance, as by its position on one of the great lines of
route between the eastern and western provinces of India. Allygurh
commands the road from Agra to Meerut; and thus, in hostile hands, it
would necessarily add to the difficulties attending the temporary loss
of Delhi; seeing that the road both to Simla and to Lahore would thus be
interrupted. The town is so surrounded by marshes and shallow pools, as
to be almost unassailable in the rainy season. The fort consists of a
regular polygon, with a broad and very deep ditch outside; it was of
simple construction at the time of its capture by the British in 1803,
but has since been much strengthened and improved. The military
cantonment, the civil establishments, and the bazaar, are situated
towards Coel, a little southward of the fort. At the beginning of the
troubles in May, Allygurh was under the care of Mr Watson, as magistrate
and collector. There were in the place, at the time, the head-quarters
and three or four companies of the 9th regiment B. N. I.: the remainder
of the regiment being in detachments at Minpooree, Etawah, and
Bolundshuhur, towns further to the southeast. The troops at Allygurh
behaved well and steadily during the first half of the month; but
gradually a change supervened. A spy was one day caught endeavouring to
excite the men. Lieutenant Cockburn, in a private letter, thus narrates
the manner—quite melodramatic in its way—in which this villain was
foiled: ‘An influential Brahmin of this neighbourhood having been seen
lurking about the lines for the past day or two, a native
non-commissioned officer concealed a number of sepoys, and induced the
Brahmin to accompany him to where the men lay hidden; under pretence of
its being a secluded spot where they might safely concert matters. The
Brahmin then made overtures to the soldier, and told him that if he
would persuade the men of the regiment to mutiny, he would furnish two
thousand men to assist in murdering the Europeans and plundering the
treasury. At a preconcerted signal, the sepoys jumped up and secured the
ruffian.’ He was hanged the same day. The troops at Bolundshuhur, really
or affectedly expressing horror at the hanging of a Brahmin, marched to
Allygurh, and, on the 20th, succeeded in inducing their companions to
mutiny. This result was so wholly unforeseen, the 9th had hitherto
behaved so well, and had displayed such alacrity in capturing the
treacherous Brahmin, that neither the civilians nor the English officers
were prepared to resist it. Cockburn at first intended to dash at them
with his troopers; but the approaching darkness, and other
considerations—possibly a doubt concerning the troopers themselves—led
to a change of plan. ‘One holy duty remained to be performed—to save the
ladies and children. This we accomplished; and whilst they were being
put into carriages, we shewed a front to the mutineers, and hindered
their advance. An occasional bullet whistled by our heads, but it was
too dark for taking aim. One man was shot through the wrist, and five
are missing. We then heard that the inhabitants were rising, so we
determined on retreating. The ladies were sent on direct to Agra, and we
went on to Hattrass. We had not gone far, when the bright light behind
us told too plainly that the cantonment was in flames.’ The civilians
and the officers of the 9th lost all except their horses and the clothes
on their backs. Allygurh remained for a considerable time in the hands
of the insurgents: almost cutting off communication between the
southeast and the northwest.
While the refugees remained in safety at Hattrass, the troopers scoured
the country to put down marauders and murderers—for it was a saturnalia
of lawlessness. On the 21st, many of the ruffians were captured, and
speedily hanged. On the 22d, two headmen of neighbouring villages joined
the marauders in an attack on some English refugees, but were
frustrated. On the 23d, Cockburn and his troop galloped off from
Hattrass to Sarsnee, and rescued eighteen refugees from Allygurh. ‘Poor
people! They have sad tales to tell. One indigo planter, Mr ——, has had
one son murdered; another son, his wife, and himself, are wounded. His
house and all he possessed have been destroyed. The very clothes were
torn from their backs; and even the poor women, naked and bleeding,
insulted and abused, had to walk many miles. At length they received
shelter from a kind-hearted native banker in the village where I found
them; but even there the house in which they were sheltered was twice
attacked.’ The good Samaritan—for there were some good and kind amid all
the villainies that surrounded them—gave two or three sheets to the poor
sufferers, to cover their nakedness, and to enable them to proceed to
Hattrass.
The 24th of May shewed how little the Gwalior troopers could be depended
upon. Of two hundred and thirty that had been intrusted to Lieutenant
Cockburn, a hundred and twenty suddenly mutinied, and galloped off to
join the insurgents at Delhi. As the villagers began to shew symptoms of
attacking him in his weakness, and as a hundred and ten troopers still
stuck by their colours, he marched off that night nineteen miles from
Hattrass to Kundowlie. On the road, the troopers told the lieutenant of
many little grievances that had affected them at Gwalior, and that had
partly led to the mutiny of the rest of their body; and he felt grateful
that some at least of the number had remained true. During the remainder
of the month, and in the early part of June, this diminished body of
troopers was incessantly engaged in skirmishing, attacking, or resisting
attacks; the country around being in such a frightful state, that a
dozen villages were sometimes seen in flames at once—the work of
desperadoes, who took advantage of a time of anarchy. On one occasion,
Cockburn baffled a horde of scoundrels by a capital stratagem. They had
collected to the number of about five hundred, and were plundering every
one on the road in a shameful manner. The lieutenant went after them
with fifty troopers. He sent four of his men in a bullock-cart, a
curtained vehicle such as women usually ride in. When the marauders saw
this, they made a rush for plunder, and perhaps something worse,
believing the cart to contain defenceless women; they approached, but
the four men jumped up, fired their muskets, and by that signal brought
Cockburn and his party forward. An exciting chase ensued, which ended in
the death of fifty of the marauders, and the capture of many others.
The 9th native regiment, it will be remembered, was quartered in four
detachments at Allygurh, Minpooree, Etawah, and Bolundshuhur. At all
four places the troops mutinied. At Etawah and Bolundshuhur, the course
of events was not so exciting as at Allygurh, although amply sufficient
to try the tact and courage of the few officers and civilians stationed
at those places. Minpooree, on the road from Agra to Furruckabad, was,
however, the scene of so smart an affair, that the governor-general,
amid all his harassing employments, made it a matter of special comment.
The officer chiefly concerned was Lieutenant de Kantzow; the date was
May the 23d, when three companies of the 9th broke out into revolt. On
the night of the 22d, news arrived that the chief portion of the
regiment had mutinied at Allygurh, and it thence became at once doubtful
whether the three companies at Minpooree could be depended upon. The
magistrate and the collector of the district, acting with Lieutenant
Crawford, resolved on removing all the English women and children for
safety to Agra: this was done, promptly and successfully. A plan was
agreed on, relating to the three companies of native troops on the
morrow; but the sepoys anticipated this plan by mutinying at four in the
morning, and endeavouring to shoot down their officers. They loaded
themselves with a great store of ammunition, and tried—first to bring
down their officers, and then to plunder the treasury and the bungalows.
Lieutenant de Kantzow, second in command under Crawford, confronted them
undauntedly, reasoned with them, and endeavoured to stop them in their
mad career. Some of the men, attached to the chivalrous officer, dashed
down several muskets levelled at him, and saved his life. But a terrible
scene occurred at the treasury. De Kantzow, with a mere handful of
ill-armed jail-guards and jail-officials, maintained a three hours’
struggle against three companies of fully armed troops. The commandant
had gone off; the collector also had made a hasty escape, deeming the
magistrate’s conduct ‘romantic’ in remaining behind; and thus De Kantzow
was left to do the best he could at the treasury, the magistrate
elsewhere. De Kantzow sent a hasty message, requesting the magistrate
_not_ to come to the treasury, as it would make one European the more
for the sepoys to yell at and attack. How long the unequal struggle
would have been maintained, cannot be said; but the magistrate found an
influential native, Ras Bhowanee Singh, willing and able to visit the
excited sepoys, and induce them to desist from further violence. They
did so: they decamped with a good deal of property, but _without_ three
lacs of rupees deposited in the treasury, and without taking one English
life. Right indeed was it that De Kantzow should receive the thanks of
the government;[14] for if he had flinched, Minpooree with its twenty
thousand inhabitants would have been at the mercy of three hundred
brutal armed men, ready to plunder natives as well as Feringhees.
It was about one week after this event that Captain Carey, of the 17th
B. N. I., rode into Minpooree, the only remaining one of four English
officers who had been endeavouring to render useful service in the
neighbourhood. They were at the head of a small body of native cavalry.
The sowars suddenly turned upon them in an open road. Major Hayes,
military secretary to Sir Henry Lawrence—a great oriental scholar and
most able officer, whom General Wheeler had just before solicited Sir
Henry to send him, to open the communications with Agra—was instantly
cut down with a sword, his head frightfully hacked, his right hand cut
off, his left mutilated. Another, Lieutenant Fayers, had his head nearly
severed from his body by a dastardly villain, while the unfortunate
young officer was drinking at a well. An old Sikh rushed forward to
prevent the atrocity, but was repelled with the words: ‘What! are you
with these Kaffirs? Look to yourself!’ Lieutenant Barber, adjutant of
the 2d irregular cavalry, made an attempt to escape, but was shot down,
cut to pieces, robbed, and left dead. The fourth, Captain Carey, trusted
to the heels of his good horse; on he galloped over fields and roads,
followed by a troop of blood-thirsty miscreants, yelling and firing as
they rode. Happily, just as his steed was about to sink through
exhaustion, his pursuers gave up the chase. He reached Minpooree in
safety; and on the 1st of June, followed the mangled remains of his
three poor companions to the grave.
Another exploit connected with Minpooree shall be given in the words of
Lieutenant de Kantzow, affording as it does one among many examples of
the extraordinary risks to which the officers were exposed at that
turbulent period, and of the rattling, quick-witted, fearless,
persevering way in which such dangers were met, and afterwards described
in the letters written to friends at home—letters that admit the reader
behind the scenes in a way not possible in official dispatches: ‘I was
returning from reconnoitring, when information was brought me that five
troopers of the 7th light cavalry (native) were coming along the road.
An immediate pursuit was of course ordered by me, and my thirty-nine
troopers tore away at full speed after them. I was just coming up to
them, and had already let drive among the murdering villains; when, lo!
I came upon two hundred of their comrades, all armed with swords, and
some with carbines. A smart fire was kept up at a distance of not more
than twenty-five yards. What could thirty-nine do against two hundred
regular troopers, well horsed and armed—particularly when walked into by
the bullets of a hundred of the infantry! I ordered a retreat, but my
cavalry could not get away from troopers mounted upon good stud-bred
horses; so we were soon overtaken, and then commenced the shindy in
earnest. Twelve troopers surrounded me: the first, a Mohammedan priest,
I shot through the breast just as he was cutting me down. This was my
only pistol, so I was helpless as regards weapons, save my sword; this
guarded off a swingeing cut given me by number two, as also another by
number three; but the fun could not last. I bitterly mourned not having
a couple of revolvers, for I could have shot every man. My sword was cut
down, and I got a slash on the head that blinded me; another on the arm
that glanced and only took a slice off; the third caught me on the side,
but also glanced and hit me sideways. I know not how I escaped: God only
knows, as twelve against one were fearful odds, especially as I was
mounted on a pony bare back. Escape, however, I did.’ Twenty-four out of
his thirty-nine troopers were killed, wounded, or missing.
The region lately noticed, including the towns of Allygurh, Hattrass,
Etawah, Minpooree, &c., was formerly included in Rohilcund, or the land
of the Rohillas; but according to the territorial or political division
adopted by the Company, it is now partly in the Meerut division, and
partly in that of Agra; while the present Rohilcund division is wholly
on the left bank of the Ganges. These technical distinctions are,
however, a matter of very little importance in connection with the
progress of the Revolt; for the insubordinate sepoys tempted and
imitated each other wholly in disregard of mere conventional boundaries.
We must now follow the stream of insurrection across the Ganges, and
shew how deplorable was the anarchy, how sad the sufferings, that began
there towards the close of May.
The districts of Rohilcund in its modern or limited sense are Bareilly,
Boodayoun or Budaon, Shahjehanpoor, Mooradabad, and Bijnour, each named
after a chief town; and not only were the whole of these towns more or
less disturbed, but throughout the intervening country the military
cantonments were set into a flame—figuratively and often literally. In
some instances the civil servants of the Company, chiefly magistrates
and revenue collectors, made their escape with their wives and children,
leaving the mutineers to occupy the stations and pillage the treasuries;
in others the civil servants, led by one of their number possessing tact
and resolution, held the marauders at bay until assistance could be
procured; while in many cases the English officers of native regiments,
as well as the civilians, yielded—by flight or by death—only after a
determined resistance.
Two of the towns above named, Bareilly and Boodayoun, will suffice at
present to illustrate the state of affairs in Rohilcund. Sunday, as we
have often had occasion to observe, was a favourite day for the native
outbreaks; and it was on Sunday the 31st of May that the miseries at
Bareilly began. The 18th and 68th regiments N. I. were cantoned there.
The bungalow of Colonel Troup was suddenly surrounded by two companies
of his own regiment, the 68th: and it was only by a hasty exit through a
side-door that he escaped death. During many previous days and nights
the troops had been in a rebellious state; the English, civilians and
military, had slept in their clothes, with pistols ready loaded, and
horses kept ready saddled. The ladies had all been sent up for safety to
Nynee Tal; and thus, when the struggle arose, the officers had only
themselves to protect. This word ‘ladies,’ however, is to be interpreted
in its conventional sense; for many women in a humbler grade of life,
together with their children, remained in the town; and among these some
deplorable scenes occurred. The members of one family were brought
before a ruthless fellow who assumed some kind of authority; and in a
very few minutes their heads were severed from their bodies. At the same
time, Mr Robertson the judge, two medical men, the professors of the
college, and others, were subjected to a mock trial and publicly hanged.
The mutinous sepoys took aim in the most deliberate way at their
officers, while the latter were fleeing; Mr Alexander, commissioner of
Bareilly, though ill at the time, was forced to mount his horse and
gallop off as the only means of saving his life, amid a shower of
bullets and grape-shot—for the treacherous villains not only used
muskets and rifles, but fired grape from the cannon. Many of the
gentlemen rode off in haste without any head-coverings, the rays of an
Indian sun pouring down upon them in full force. When the English were
driven out, the Mohammedans and Hindoos began to fight fiercely against
each other for possession of the treasure—one among many indications
that plunder was at least as strong a desire as revenge in impelling the
natives to deeds of violence.
The name of Nynee Tal is mentioned in the above paragraph; and it may be
well to understand on what ground that town was so often named with
earnest solicitude by officers engaged in arduous struggles in various
parts of the north of India. Nynee Tal is a healthy spot on the banks of
a beautiful lake, a few miles from Almora in Kumaon, and not far from
the Nepaulese border: indeed it belonged to the Goorkhas of Nepaul until
recent times, when it was conquered from them by the British; since
which occurrences the late owners have been friendly neighbours within
their own territory of Nepaul. Nynee Tal became a second Simla during
the disturbances. Women and children, if their lives were spared at the
scenes of tumult, were hurried off to the places just named, and to one
or two other towns among the hills—there to remain till days of peace
returned, or till means of safe conveyance to Calcutta or Bombay could
be procured. When the troubles in Rohilcund commenced; when Bareilly and
Boodayoun, Mooradabad and Shahjehanpoor, fell into the hands of the
rebels—all fled to Nynee Tal who could. Captain Ramsey, commanding at
that town, at once made arrangements for protecting the poor fugitives;
he formed the gentlemen of the station into a militia, who took it in
turn to fulfil the duties of an armed patrol, to keep in order the
dacoits and other ruffians in the neighbourhood; he laid in a store of
three months’ provisions for all the mouths in the place; and he armed
the station and the roads with companies of a Goorkha regiment. These
Goorkhas, it may be well here to explain, are of Mongol origin, but
smaller and darker than the real Chinese. They belong to Nepaul, and
first became familiar to the British by their resolute soldierly
qualities during the Nepaulese war. Although Hindoos by religion, they
have little or nothing of caste prejudice, and sympathise but slightly
with the Hindoos of the plains. Being natives of a somewhat poor
country, they have shewn a readiness in recent years to accept Company’s
pay as auxiliary troops; and it was a very important fact to those
concerned in quelling the revolt, that the Goorkhas manifested a
disposition rather to remain faithful to their British paymasters, than
to join the standard of rapine and murder.
Bareilly, we have just seen, was one of the towns from which fugitive
ladies were sent for safety to Nynee Tal; and now the town of Boodayoun,
on the road from Agra to Bareilly, comes for notice under similar
conditions. Considering that the course of public events often receives
illustration of a remarkable kind from the experience of single
individuals, we shall treat the affairs of Boodayoun in connection with
the strange adventures of one of the Company’s civil servants—adventures
not so deeply distressing as those of the fugitives from Delhi, but
continued during a much longer period, and bringing to light a much
larger number of facts connected with the feelings and position of the
natives in the disturbed districts. The wanderer, Mr Edwards, collector
of the Boodayoun district, was more than _three months_ in reaching
Cawnpore from Boodayoun—a distance scarcely over a hundred miles by
road. About the middle of May, the districts on both sides of the Ganges
becoming very disturbed, Mr Edwards sent his wife and child for refuge
to Nynee Tal. He was the sole European officer in charge of the
Boodayoun district, and felt his anxieties deepen as rumours reached him
of disturbances in other quarters. At the end of the month, news of the
revolt at Bareilly added to his difficulties; for the mutineers and a
band of liberated prisoners were on their way from that place to
Boodayoun. Mr Edwards expresses his opinion that the mutiny was
aggravated by the laws, or the course adopted by the civil courts,
concerning landed property. Landed rights and interests were sold by
order of the courts for petty debts; they were bought by strangers, who
had no particular sympathy with the people; and the old landowners,
regarded with something like affection by the peasantry, were thrown
into a discontented state. Evidence was soon afforded that these
dispossessed landowners joined the mutineers, not from a political
motive, but to seize hold of their old estates during a time of turmoil
and violence. ‘The danger now is, that they can never wish to see the
same government restored to power; fearing, as they naturally must, that
they will have again to give up possession of their estates.’ This
subject, of landed tenure in India, will call for further illustration
in future pages, in relation to the condition of the people.
[Illustration:
Nynee Tal—a refuge for European fugitives.
]
Narrowly escaping peril himself, Mr Edwards, on the 1st of June, saw
that flight was his only chance. There were two English indigo-planters
in the neighbourhood, together with another European, who determined to
accompany him wherever he went, thinking their safety would be thereby
increased. This embarrassed him, for friendly natives who might shelter
one person, would probably hesitate to receive four; and so it proved,
on several occasions. He started off on horseback, accompanied by the
other three, and by a faithful Sikh servant, Wuzeer Singh, who never
deserted him through all his trials. The worldly wealth of Mr Edwards at
this moment consisted of the clothes on his back, a revolver, a watch, a
purse, and a New Testament. During the first few days they galloped from
village to village, just as they found the natives favourable or
hostile; often forced to flee when most in need of food and rest. They
crossed the Ganges two or three times, tracing out a strange zigzag in
the hope of avoiding dangers. The wanderers then made an attempt to
reach Futteghur. They suffered much, and one life was lost, in this
attempt; the rest, after many days, reached Futteghur, where Mr Probyn
was the Company’s collector. Native troops were mutinying, or consulting
whether to mutiny; Europeans were departing; and it soon became evident
that Futteghur would no longer be a place of safety either for Probyn or
for Edwards. Flight again became necessary, and under more anxious
circumstances, for a lady and four children were to be protected; but
how to flee, and whither, became anxious questions. Day after day
passed, before a friendly native could safely plan an escape for them by
boat; enemies and marauders were on every side; and at last the danger
became so imminent that it was resolved to cross the Ganges, and seek an
asylum in a very desolate spot, out of the way of the mutineers. Here
was presented a curious exemplification of ‘lucky’ and ‘unlucky’ days as
viewed by the natives. ‘A lucky day having been found for our start,’
says Mr Edwards, ‘we were to go when the moon rose; but this moon-rise
was not till three o’clock on the morning after that fixed for the
start. This the Thakoors were not at first aware of. I was wakened about
eleven o’clock by one of them, who said that the fact had just come to
his knowledge, and that it was necessary that something belonging to us
should start at once, as this would equally secure the lucky influence
of the day, even though we ourselves should not start till next morning.
A _table-fork_ was accordingly given him, with which he went off quite
satisfied, and which was sent by a bearer towards the village we were to
proceed to.’ Under the happy influence of this table-fork, the wanderers
set forth by night, Mrs Probyn and her children riding on an elephant,
and the men walking on roads almost impassable with mud. They reached
the stream; they crossed in a boat; they walked some distance amid
torrents of rain, Mr Edwards ‘carrying poor baby;’ and then they reached
the village, Runjpoonah, destined for their temporary home. What a home
it was! ‘The place intended for the Probyns was a wretched hovel
occupied by buffaloes, and filthy beyond expression, the smell stifling,
and the mud and dirt over our ankles. My heart sank within me as I laid
down my little charge on a charpoy.’ By the exercise of ingenuity, an
extemporaneous chamber was fitted up in the roof. During a long sojourn
here in the rainy season, Mr Edwards wrote a letter to his wife at Nynee
Tal, under the following odd circumstances: ‘I had but a small scrap of
paper on which to write my two notes, and just the stump of a
lead-pencil: we had neither pens nor ink. In the middle of my writing,
the pencil-point broke; and when I commenced repointing it, the whole
fell out, there being just a speck of lead left. I was in despair; but
was fortunately able to refix the atom, and to finish two short
notes—about an inch square each: it was all the man could conceal about
him. I then steeped the notes in a little milk, and put them out to dry
in the sun. At once a crow pounced on one and carried it off, and I of
course thought it was lost for ever. Wuzeer Singh, however, saw and
followed the creature, and recovered the note after a long chase.’
Several weeks passed; ‘poor baby’ died; then an elder child—both sinking
under the privations they had had to endure: their anxious mother, with
all her tender solicitude, being unable further to preserve them. Mr
Edwards, who was one of those that thought the annexation of Oude an
unwise measure, said, in relation to a rumour that Oude had been
restored to its king: ‘I would rejoice at such an equitable measure at
another time; but now it would be, if true, a sign of a falling cause
and of great weakness, which is I fear our real case.’ On another
occasion, he heard ‘more rumours that the governor-general and the King
of Oude had arrived at Cawnpore; and that Oude is then formally to be
made over to the king.’ Whether Oudians or not, everywhere he found the
Mohammedans more hostile to the British than the Hindoos; and in some
places the two bodies of religionists fought with each other. After many
more weeks of delays and disappointments, the fugitives were started off
down the Ganges to Cawnpore. In effecting this start, the ‘lucky-day’
principle was again acted on. ‘The astrologer had fixed an hour for
starting. As it was not possible for us to go at the fortunate moment
and secure the advantage, a shirt of mine and some garments of those who
were to accompany me, were forwarded to a village some way on the road,
which is considered equivalent to ourselves starting.’ Half-a-dozen
times on their voyage were they in danger of being shot by hostile
natives on shore; but the fidelity and tact of the natives who had
befriended them carried them through all their perils. At length they
reached Cawnpore on the 1st of September, just three calendar months
after Mr Edwards took his hasty departure from Boodayoun.
This interesting train of adventures we have followed to its close, as
illustrating so many points connected with the state of India at the
time; but now attention must be brought back to the month of May.
West of the Rohilcund district, and northwest of Allygurh and its
neighbouring cluster of towns, lie Meerut and Delhi, the two places at
which the atrocities were first manifested. Meerut, after the departure
of the three mutinous regiments on the night of the 10th of May, and the
revolt of the Sappers and Miners a few days afterwards, remained
unmolested. Major-general Hewett was too strong in European troops to be
attacked, although his force took part in many operations against the
rebels elsewhere. Several prisoners, proved to have been engaged in the
murderous work of the 10th, were hanged. On the other hand, many sowars
of the 3d native cavalry, instead of going to Delhi, spread terror among
the villagers near Meerut. One of the last military dispatches of the
commander-in-chief was to Hewett, announcing his intention to send most
of his available troops from Kurnaul by Bhagput and Paniput, to Delhi,
and requesting Hewett to despatch from Meerut an auxiliary force. This
force he directed should consist of two squadrons of carabiniers, a wing
of the 60th Rifles, a light field-battery, a troop of horse-artillery, a
corps of artillerymen to work the siege-train, and as many sappers as he
could depend upon. General Anson calculated that if he left Umballa on
the 1st of June, and if Hewett sent his force from Meerut on the 2d,
they might meet at Bhagput on the 5th, when a united advance might be
made upon Delhi; but, as we shall presently see, the hand of death
struck down the commander-in-chief ere this plan could be carried out;
and the force from Meerut was placed at the disposal of another
commander, under circumstances that will come under notice in their
proper place.
Delhi, like Cawnpore, must be treated apart from other towns. The
military proceedings connected with its recapture were so interesting,
and carried on over so long a period; it developed resources so
startlingly large among the mutineers, besieging forces so lamentably
small on the part of the British—that the whole will conveniently form a
subject complete in itself, to be treated when collateral events have
been brought up to the proper level. Suffice it at present to say, that
the mutineers over the whole of the north of India looked to the
retention of Delhi as their great stronghold, their rock of defence;
while the British saw with equal clearness that the recapture of that
celebrated city was an indispensable preliminary to the restoration of
their prestige and power in India. All the mutineers from other towns
either hastened to Delhi, or calculated on its support to their cause,
whatever that cause may have been; all the available British regiments,
on the other hand, few indeed as they were, either hastened to Delhi, or
bore it in memory during their other plans and proceedings.
Just at the time when the services of a military commander were most
needed in the regions of which Agra is the centre, and when it was
necessary to be in constant communication with the governor-general and
authorities, General Anson could not be heard of; he was supposed at
Calcutta to be somewhere between Simla and Delhi; but dâks and
telegraphs had been interfered with, and all remained in mystery as to
his movements. Lawrence at Lucknow, Ponsonby at Benares, Wheeler at
Cawnpore, Colvin at Agra, Hewett at Meerut, other commanders at
Allahabad, Dinapoor, and elsewhere—all said in effect: ‘We can hold our
own for a time, but not unless Delhi be speedily recaptured. Where is
the commander-in-chief?’ Viscount Canning sent messages in rapid
succession, during the second half of the month of May, entreating
General Anson to bring all his power to bear on Delhi as quickly as
possible. Duplicate telegrams were sent by different routes, in hopes
that one at least might reach its destination safely; and every telegram
told the same story—that British India was in peril so long as Delhi was
not in British hands, safe from murderers and marauders. Major-general
Sir Henry Barnard, military commander of the Umballa district, received
telegraphic news on the 11th of May of the outrages at Meerut and Delhi;
and immediately sent an aid-de-camp to gallop off with the information
to General Anson at Simla, seventy or eighty miles distant. The
commander-in-chief at once hastened from his retirement among the hills.
Simla, as was noticed in a former page, is one of the sanataria for the
English in India, spots where pure air and moderate temperature restore
to the jaded body some of the strength, and to the equally jaded spirits
some of the elasticity, which are so readily lost in the burning plains
further south. The poorer class among the Europeans cannot afford the
indulgence, for the cost is too great; but the principal servants of the
Company often take advantage of this health-restoring and invigorating
climate—where the average temperature of the year is not above 55° F.
The question has been frequently discussed, and is not without cogency,
whether the commander-in-chief acted rightly in remaining at that remote
spot during the first twenty weeks in the year, when so many suspicious
symptoms were observable among the native troops at Calcutta, Dumdum,
Barrackpore, Berhampore, Lucknow, Meerut, and Umballa. He could know
nothing of the occurrences at those places but what the telegraphic
wires and the postal dâks told him; nevertheless, if they told him the
truth, and _all_ the truth, it seems difficult to understand, unless
illness paralysed his efforts, why he, the chief of the army, remained
quiescent at a spot more than a thousand miles from Calcutta.
Startled by the news, the commander-in-chief quitted Simla, and hastened
to Umballa, the nearest military station on the great Indian highway. It
then became sensibly felt, both by Anson and Barnard, how insufficient
were the appliances at their disposal. The magazines at Umballa were
nearly empty of stores and ammunition; the reserve artillery-wagons were
at Phillour, eighty miles away; the native infantry were in a very
disaffected state; the European troops were at various distances from
Umballa; the commissariat officers declared it to be almost impossible
to move any body of troops, in the absence of necessary supplies for a
column in the field; and the medical officers dwelt on the danger of
marching troops in the hot season, and on the want of conveyance for
sick and wounded. In short, almost everything was wanting, necessary for
the operations of an army. The generals set to work, however; they
ordered the 2d European Fusiliers to hasten from Subathoo to Umballa;
the Nusseree Battalion to escort a siege-train and ammunition from
Phillour to Umballa; six companies of the Sappers and Miners to proceed
from Roorkee to Meerut; and the 4th Irregular Cavalry to hold themselves
in readiness at Hansi. Anson at the same time issued the general order,
already adverted to, inviting the native regiments to remain true to
their allegiance, explaining the real facts concerning the cartridges,
and reiterating the assurances of non-intervention with the religious
and caste scruples of the men. On the 17th there were more than seven
regiments of troops at Umballa—namely, the Queen’s 9th Lancers, the 4th
Light Cavalry Lancers, the Queen’s 75th foot, the 1st and 2d European
Fusiliers, the 5th and 60th native infantry, and two troops of European
horse-artillery; but the European regiments were all far short of their
full strength. Symptoms soon appeared that the 5th and 60th native
infantry were not to be relied upon for fidelity; and General Anson
thereupon strengthened his force at Umballa with such European regiments
as were obtainable. He was nevertheless in great perplexity how to shape
his course; for so many wires had been cut and so many dâks stopped,
that he knew little of the progress of events around Delhi and Agra.
Being new to India and Indian warfare, also, and having received his
appointment to that high command rather through political connections
than in reference to any experience derived from Asiatic campaigning, he
was dependent on those around him for suggestions concerning the best
mode of grappling with the difficulties that were presented. These
suggestions, in all probability, were not quite harmonious; for it has
long been known that, in circumstances of emergency, the civil and
military officers of the Company, viewing occurrences under different
aspects or from different points of view, often arrived at different
estimates as to the malady to be remedied, and at different suggestions
as to the remedy to be applied. At the critical time in question,
however, all the officers, civil as well as military, assented to the
conclusion that Delhi must be taken at any cost; and on the 21st of May,
the first division of a small but well-composed force set out from
Umballa on the road to Delhi. General Anson left on the 25th, and
arrived on the 26th at Kurnaul, to be nearer the scene of active
operations; but there death carried him off. He died of cholera on the
next day, the 27th of May.
With a governor-general a thousand miles away, the chief officers at and
near Kurnaul settled among themselves as best they could, according to
the rules of the service, the distribution of duties, until official
appointments could be made from Calcutta. Major-general Sir Henry
Barnard became temporary commander, and Major-general Reid second under
him. When the governor-general received this news, he sent for Sir
Patrick Grant, a former experienced adjutant-general of the Bengal army,
from Madras, to assume the office of commander-in-chief; but the
officers at that time westward of Delhi—Barnard, Reid, Wilson, and
others—had still the responsibility of battling with the rebels. Sir
Henry Barnard, as temporary chief, took charge of the expedition to
Delhi—with what results will be shewn in the proper place.
The regions lying west, northwest, and southwest of Delhi have this
peculiarity, that they are of easier access from Bombay or from Kurachee
than from Calcutta. Out of this rose an important circumstance in
connection with the Revolt—namely, the practicability of the employment
of the Bombay native army to confront the mutinous regiments belonging
to that of Bengal. It is difficult to overrate the value of the
difference between the two armies. Had they been formed of like
materials, organised on a like system, and officered in a like ratio,
the probability is that the mutiny would have been greatly increased in
extent—the same motives, be they reasonable or unreasonable, being alike
applicable to both armies. Of the degree to which the Bombay regiments
shewed fidelity, while those of Bengal unfurled the banner of rebellion,
there will be frequent occasions to speak in future pages. The subject
is only mentioned here to explain why the western parts of India are not
treated in the present chapter. There were, it is true, disturbances at
Neemuch and Nuseerabad, and at various places in Rajpootana, the
Punjaub, and Sinde; but these will better be treated in later pages, in
connection rather with Bombay than with Calcutta as head-quarters.
Enough has been said to shew over how wide an area the taint of
disaffection spread during the month of May—to break out into something
much more terrible in the next following month.
Notes.
_Indian Railways._—An interesting question presents itself, in
connection with the subject of the present chapter—Whether the
Revolt would have been _possible_ had the railways been completed?
The rebels, it is true, might have forced up or dislocated the
rails, or might have tampered with the locomotives. They might, on
the other hand, if powerfully concentrated, have used the railways
for their own purposes, and thus made them am auxiliary to
rebellion. Nevertheless, the balance of probability is in favour of
the government—that is, the government would have derived more
advantage than the insurgents from the existence of railways between
the great towns of India. The difficulties, so great as to be almost
insuperable, in transporting troops from one place to another, have
been amply illustrated in this and the preceding chapters; we have
seen how dâk and palanquin bearers, bullocks and elephants, ekahs
and wagons, Ganges steamers and native boats, were brought into
requisition, and how painfully slow was the progress made. The 121
miles of railway from Calcutta to Raneegunge were found so useful,
in enabling the English soldiers to pass swiftly over the first part
of their journey, that there can hardly be a doubt of the important
results which would have followed an extension of the system. Even
if a less favourable view be taken in relation to Bengal and the
Northwest Provinces, the advantages would unquestionably have been
on the side of the government in the Bombay and Madras presidencies,
where disaffection was shewn only in a very slight degree; a few
days would have sufficed to send troops from the south of India by
rail, _viâ_ Bombay and Jubbulpoor to Mirzapore, in the immediate
vicinity of the regions where their services were most needed.
Although the Raneegunge branch of the East Indian Railway was the
only portion open in the north of India, there was a section of the
main line between Allahabad and Cawnpore nearly finished at the time
of the outbreak. This main line will nearly follow the course of the
Ganges, from Calcutta up to Allahabad; it will then pass through the
Doab, between the Ganges and the Jumna, to Agra; it will follow the
Jumna from Agra up to Delhi; and will then strike off northwestward
to Lahore—to be continued at some future time through the Punjaub to
Peshawur. During the summer of 1857, the East India Company
prepared, at the request of parliament, an exact enumeration of the
various railways for which engineering plans had been adopted, and
for the share-capital of which a minimum rate of interest had been
guaranteed by the government. The document gives the particulars of
about 3700 miles of railway in India; estimated to cost £30,231,000;
and for which a dividend is guaranteed to the extent of £20,314,000,
at a rate varying from 4½ to 5 per cent. The government also gives
the land, estimated to be worth about a million sterling. All the
works of construction are planned on a principle of solidity, not
cheapness; for it is expected they will all be remunerative.
Arrangements are everywhere made for a double line of rails—a single
line being alone laid down until the traffic is developed. The gauge
is nine inches wider than the ‘narrow gauge’ of English railways.
The estimated average cost is under £9000 per mile, about one-fourth
of the English average.
Leaving out of view, as an element impossible to be correctly
calculated, the amount of delay arising from the Revolt, the
government named the periods at which the several sections of
railway would probably be finished. Instead of shewing the
particular portions belonging respectively to the five railway
companies—the East Indian, the Great Indian Peninsula, the Bombay
and Central India, the Sinde, and the Madras—we shall simply arrange
the railways into two groups, north and south, and throw a few of
the particulars into a tabulated form.
NORTHERN INDIA.
_Railways._ _Lengths._ _Probable Time of Opening._
Miles.
Calcutta to 121 Opened in 1855.
Raneegunge,
Burdwan to 130 December 1859.
Rajmahal,
Rajmahal to 440 1860.
Allahabad,
Allahabad to 126 December 1857.
Cawnpore,
Cawnpore to Delhi, 260 October 1858 (excepting bridge at Agra
over the Jumna).
Mirzapore to 300 No date specified.
Jubbulpoor,
Jubbulpoor to 314 End of 1861.
Bhosawal,
Bhosawal to 125 December 1860.
Oomrawuttee,
Oomrawuttee to 138 March 1861.
Nagpoor,
Bhosawal to 241 October 1859.
Callian,
Callian to Bombay, 33 Opened in 1854.
Surat to 160 1858 and 1859.
Ahmedabad,
Kurachee to 120 October 1859.
Hydrabad,
SOUTHERN INDIA.
Bombay to Poonah, 124 February 1858.
Poonah to 165 1860.
Sholapore,
Sholapore to 101 End of 1861.
Kistnah,
Kistnah to Madras, 310 1861 and 1862.
Madras to Arcot, 65 Opened in 1856.
Arcot to 60 January 1858.
Variembaddy,
Madras to Beypore, 430 March 1859.
The plans for an Oude railway were drawn up, comprising three or
four lines radiating from Lucknow; but the project had not, at that
time, assumed a definite form.
* * * * *
_’Headman’ of a Village._—It frequently happened, in connection with
the events recorded in the present chapter, that the _headman_ of a
village either joined the mutineers against the British, or assisted
the latter in quelling the disturbances; according to the bias of
his inclination, or the view he took of his own interests. The
general nature of the village-system in India requires to be
understood before the significancy of the headman’s position can be
appreciated. Before the British entered India, private property in
land was unknown; the whole was considered to belong to the
sovereign. The country was divided, by the Mohammedan rulers, into
small holdings, cultivated each by a village community under a
headman; for which a rent was paid. For convenience of collecting
this rent or revenue, _zemindars_ were appointed, who either farmed
the revenues, or acted simply as agents for the ruling power. When
the Marquis of Cornwallis, as governor-general, made great changes
in the government of British India half a century ago, he modified,
among other matters, the zemindary; but the collection of revenue
remained.
Whether, as some think, villages were thus formed by the early
conquerors; or whether they were natural combinations of men for
mutual advantage—certain it is that the village-system in the plains
of Northern India was made dependent in a large degree on the
peculiar institution of caste. ‘To each man in a Hindoo village were
appointed particular duties which were exclusively his, and which
were in general transmitted to his descendants. The whole community
became one family, which lived together and prospered on their
public lands; whilst the private advantage of each particular member
was scarcely determinable. It became, then, the fairest as well as
the least troublesome method of collecting the revenue to assess the
whole village at a certain sum, agreed upon by the _tehsildar_
(native revenue collector) and the headman. This was exacted from
the latter, who, seated on the chabootra, in conjunction with the
chief men of the village, managed its affairs, and decided upon the
quota of each individual member. By this means, the exclusive
character of each village was further increased, until they have
become throughout nearly the whole of the Indian peninsula, little
republics; supplied, owing to the regulations of caste, with
artisans of nearly every craft, and almost independent of any
foreign relations.’[15]
Not only is the headman’s position and duties defined; but the whole
village may be said to be socially organised and parcelled out by
the singular operation of the caste principle. Each village manages
its internal affairs; taxes itself to provide funds for internal
expenses, as well as the revenue due to the state; decides disputes
in the first instance; and punishes minor offences. Officers are
selected for all these duties; and there is thus a local government
within the greater government of the paramount state. One man is the
scribe of the village; another, the constable or policeman; a third,
the schoolmaster; a fourth, the doctor; a fifth, the astrologer and
exorciser; and so of the musician, the carpenter, the smith, the
worker in gold or jewels, the tailor, the worker in leather, the
potter, the washerman—each considers that he has a prescriptive
right to the work in his branch done within the village, and to the
payment for that work; and each member of his family participates in
this prescriptive right. This village-system is so interwoven with
the habits and customs of the Hindoos, that it outlives all changes
going on around. Sir T. Metcalfe, who knew India well, said:
‘Dynasty after dynasty tumbles down; revolution succeeds to
revolution; Hindoo, Patan, Mogul, Mahratta, Sikh, English, are all
masters in turn; but the village community remains the same. In
times of trouble they arm and fortify themselves. If a hostile army
passes through the country, the village communities collect their
cattle within their walls, and let the enemy pass unprovoked. If
plunder and devastation be directed against themselves, and the
force employed be irresistible, they flee to friendly villages at a
distance; but when the storm has passed over, they return and resume
their occupations. If a country remain for a series of years the
scene of continued pillage and massacre, so that the village cannot
be inhabited, the scattered villages nevertheless return whenever
the power of peaceable possession revives. A generation may pass
away, but the succeeding generation will return. The sons will take
the places of their fathers; the same site for their village, the
same positions for the houses, the same lands will be reoccupied by
the descendants of those who were driven out when the village was
depopulated; and it is not a trifling matter that will drive them
out, for they will often maintain their post through times of
disturbance and convulsion, and acquire strength sufficient to
resist pillage and oppression with success. This union of the
village communities, each one forming a separate little state in
itself, has, I conceive, contributed more than any other cause to
the preservation of the people of India through all the revolutions
and changes which they have suffered.’[16]
It is easily comprehensible how, in village communities thus
compactly organised, the course of proceeding adopted by the headman
in any public exigency becomes of much importance; since it may be a
sort of official manifestation of the tendencies of the villagers
generally.
[Illustration:
Palanquin.
]
-----
Footnote 13:
The initials N. I., B. N. I., M. N. I., &c., are frequently used in
official documents as abbreviations of ‘Native Infantry,’ ‘Bengal
Native Infantry,’ ‘Madras Native Infantry,’ &c.
Footnote 14:
Viscount Canning, in a letter written on the 7th of June to Lieutenant
do Kantzow, said: ‘I have read the account of your conduct with an
admiration and respect I cannot adequately describe. Young in years,
and at the outset of your career, you have given to your
brother-soldiers a noble example of courage, patience, good judgment,
and temper, from which many may profit. I beg you to believe that it
will never be forgotten by me. I write this at once, that there may be
no delay in making known to you that your conduct has not been
overlooked. You will, of course, receive a more formal acknowledgment,
through the military department of the government, of your admirable
service.’
Footnote 15:
Irving: _Theory and Practice of Caste_.
[Illustration:
Parade-ground, Cawnpore.
]
CHAPTER VIII.
TREACHERY AND ATROCITIES AT CAWNPORE.
No other events connected with the Revolt in India made so deep an
impression on the public mind, or produced so utter an astonishment and
dismay, as those relating to Cawnpore—the treachery of an arch-villain,
and the sufferings that resulted therefrom. The mystery that for so many
weeks veiled the fate of the victims heightened the painful interest;
for none in England knew how the troubles in May gave rise to the
miseries in June, and these to the horrors of July, until nearly all
were dead who could faithfully have recorded the progress of events. Now
that the main incidents are known, they come upon the reader almost with
the force of a tragic drama; associating themselves in succession with
five scenes—the intrenchment, the boats, the ghat, the house of
slaughter, the well—the intensity deepening as the plot advances towards
its end.
So unutterably revolting were the indignities to which some of the
unfortunates were subjected, at Cawnpore as at other places, that no one
dared to speak or write fully of them; even men, hardy and world-worn
men, almost shrank from whispering the details to each other. Vague
generalities of language were employed, in sheer dismay lest the use of
precise words should lift too high the veil that hid the hideous scene.
So much was this felt, so much were the facts understated, that persons
of unblemished moral character almost regretted the reticence of the
press. A nobleman held in very high estimation, the Earl of Shaftesbury,
on one occasion expressed at a public meeting a wish that the daily
journals would proceed one stage further in making the mournful tale
known: on the ground that Englishmen, by learning more of the real
truth, would appreciate more fully the sufferings of our countrymen and
countrywomen, the heroism and Christian patience with which those
sufferings were borne, and the necessity for (not vengeance, but)
retributive justice on those who had ordered and executed the devilish
barbarities. It is not a trifling compliment to the delicacy of the
English press, that a Christian nobleman should thus have suggested less
scruple, less reserve, in the treatment of a most trying subject. In
every narrative of these mournful events, the reader feels, and must
continue to feel, that the _worst_ is left unsaid.
The first matters to treat are—the locality in which, and the native
chieftain by whom, these wrongs were inflicted. Cawnpore, a terrible
word to English readers, is the name both of a district and of its chief
town. The district, a part of the Doab or delta between the Ganges and
the Jumna, is included within the government of the Northwestern
Provinces. The city of Cawnpore is on the right bank of the Ganges,
about two hundred and seventy miles below Delhi; and the river flows
down nearly a thousand miles below this point to Calcutta; the
land-distance, however, from Cawnpore to Calcutta is between six and
seven hundred miles. The Ganges here is sometimes more than a mile in
width at and soon after the rainy season, and is at such time very
difficult to be crossed by bodies of troops. Cawnpore is an important
city to the British in India, both commercially and in a military sense.
The ghat or landing-place, in peaceful times, is a scene of great
liveliness and bustle. When Skinner was there, ‘Every description of
vessel that can be imagined was collected along the bank. The pinnace,
which with its three masts and neat rigging might have passed for a
ship; budgerows, the clumsiest of all clumsy things, with their sterns
several times higher than their bows; the bauleahs, ugly enough, but
lightly skimming along like gondolas compared with the heavy craft
around them; the drifting haystacks, which the country-boats appear to
be when at a distance, with their native crews straining every nerve
upon their summits, and cheering themselves with a wild and not
unfrequently a sweet song; panswees shooting swiftly down the stream,
with one person only on board, who sits at the head, steering with his
right hand, rowing with his foot, and in the left hand holding his pipe.
A ferry-boat constantly plying across the stream adds to the variety of
the scene, by its motley collection of passengers—travellers, merchants,
fakeers, camels, bullocks, and horses—all crowded together. The vessels
fastened to the shore are so closely packed, that they appear to be one
mass, and, from their thatched roofs and low entrances, might easily
pass for a floating village.’ Cawnpore is (or rather was) remarkable in
its military arrangements. The cantonment, six miles long by half a mile
broad, often contained, before the Revolt, a native population of fifty
thousand persons, besides sixty thousand in the city itself,
irrespective of military and Europeans. The native infantry of the
station encamped here in the cool part of the year, when there were
regular streets and squares of canvas stretching over an immense space;
each regiment was provided with its bazaar; in the rear and far beyond
the lines, were the bivouacs of every kind of camp-followers, in immense
numbers. All these, with many hundred bungalows or lodges of officers
and European residents, gave great animation to the cantonment. The
bungalows, though tiled or thatched, were here, as in other parts of
India, large and commodious; each standing pleasantly in the midst of
its compound or enclosure, richly planted with grapes, peaches, mangoes,
shaddocks, plantains, melons, oranges, limes, guavas, and other fruits
especially acceptable in a hot climate. There was accommodation for
seven thousand troops, but the number actually stationed there was
generally much less. In accordance with the Company’s regulations, the
English military officers, whether of European or native regiments,
always resided within the cantonment where their services were required;
while the civilians, although residing chiefly in the suburbs, had their
offices and places of business within the city itself. There were thus,
to some extent, two sets of English residents.
The next point to render clear is, the position of the man who so
fatally influenced the affairs at Cawnpore in the summer months of 1857.
Nena Sahib was his name to an English eye and tongue, and as Nena Sahib
he will ever be execrated; but that was his titular or honorary, not his
real name, which appears to have been Dhundu Punt or Dhoondhoopunt. When
called the Nena or Náná, the Nena Sahib, the Peishwa, the Maharajah, the
Nena Bahadoor, he was recognised by one of his oriental titles of
honour. Let him to us be the Nena Sahib. There was a motive, however
inadequate in the estimate of persons possessing a spark of human
feeling, for the black treachery and monstrous cruelty of this man. He
had a quarrel with the East India Company: a quarrel which the Company
had nearly forgotten, but not he. The disagreement arose out of the
prevalent Eastern custom of adoption, in default of legitimate male
heirs. Bithoor, a town six or eight miles from Cawnpore, and within the
same district, had long been the residence of the chief of the Mahrattas
or Peishwa, with whom, as with other native princes, the Company had had
many negotiations and treaties. Bithoor itself, a town of about fourteen
thousand inhabitants, possesses numerous Hindoo temples, and several
ghats or flights of steps giving access to the Ganges, to which the
Brahmins and their followers frequently resort for the purpose of ritual
ablution. The place is not without fortification, but it does not take
rank among the strongholds of India. The last chief, Maharajah Bajee Rao
Peishwa, died in 1851; and in consequence of that event, a jaghire or
estate, near the town, which had been bestowed upon him during pleasure
by the Company, lapsed to the government, and was subjected to the
general regulations in force in Cawnpore. Being sonless, he had adopted
a son, or indeed two sons—not merely to inherit the vast wealth which
belonged to him independently of the arrangements with the Company, but
also to perform certain filial duties which high-caste Hindoos deem it
necessary to their religion that a son should perform. This adoption was
legal so far as concerned the Peishwa’s personal property; but the
Company would not admit its validity in relation to a pension of £50,000
per annum which he had been in the habit of receiving. A slight
obscurity in the wording of an official document led to some doubt on
this matter. On the 1st of June 1818, Sir John Malcolm, on the part of
the Company, signed a treaty with Bajee Rao, granting a pension to the
rajah _and his family_. This has since been interpreted, by the Bithoor
intriguers, as a perpetual grant _to the heirs_; but there is abundant
evidence that Sir John and the Company meant the pension to be for Bajee
Rao’s life only, to be shared by his family then living. Nine years
afterwards, namely, in 1827, Bajee Rao adopted two children, Suddchoo
Rao and Dhundu Punt, the one four years and the other two years and a
half old; they were the sons of two Brahmins, natives of the Deccan, who
had come to reside at Bithoor about a year before. There is no evidence
that Bajee Rao ever considered these two adopted sons, or either of
them, entitled to a continuance of the Company’s pension; although
Dhundu Punt may very possibly have thrown out frequent hints, to sound
the Company on this subject. It has been supposed that when the old King
of Delhi was reproclaimed after the Meerut outbreak, he offered to
acknowledge the Nena Sahib, Dhundu Punt, as the proper successor of the
Peishwa of Bithoor, on condition of receiving his aid and allegiance.
This was probably true, but would not suffice, without the incentive of
private animosity, to account for his subsequent actions. So little was
known of him in England when the Revolt began, that doubt prevailed
whether he was really the adopted son of Bajee Rao; some writers
asserting that that honour had been conferred upon another Dhundu Punt,
and that the Nena himself was the eldest son of the rajah’s subadar,
Ramchunder Punt.
If hatred ruled his heart during the six years from 1851 to 1857, he
must indeed have been a consummate hypocrite; for the English were
always courteously received by him at his petty court, and generally
came away impressed in his favour—impressed, however, at the same time,
with a conviction that he entertained a sort of hope that the Queen of
England would graciously befriend him in his contest with the Calcutta
government, the Court of Directors, and the Board of Control, all of
whom disputed his adoptive claims. He had a curious taste for mingling
the English with the oriental in his palace at Bithoor. An English
traveller, who visited him a few years before the Revolt, and was
received with an amount of flattery that appeared to have a good deal of
shrewd calculation in it, found the rooms set apart for him decked with
English furniture arranged in the most incongruous manner—a chest of
drawers and a toilet-table in the sitting-room; a piano and a card-table
in the bedroom; tent-tables and camp-stools in the same room with
elegant drawing-room tables and chairs; a costly clock by the side of
cheap japan candlesticks; good prints from Landseer’s pictures, in
juxtaposition with sixpenny coloured plates of Wellington and Napoleon;
sacred prints, and prints of ballet-girls and Epsom winners—all kinds
were mingled indiscriminately, as if simply to make a show. The guest
was most struck by the oriental compliments he received from the Nena,
and by the odd attempt to provide English furniture where English habits
and customs were so little known; yet there were not wanting dark tints
to the picture. He heard rumours ‘that two women of rank were kept in a
den not far from my apartments, and treated like wild beasts; and that a
third, a beautiful young creature, had recently been _bricked up in a
wall_, for no other fault than attempting to escape.’ An agent of the
Nena, one Azimullah, resided some time in London, about the year 1855;
he came to England to advocate the Nena’s claims, and managed to
ingratiate himself with many persons moving in the upper circles of
society, by his manifest abilities, his winning grace, his courtesy to
all with whom he came into relation. Yet there were strange fits of
moody silence observable in him; and when the failure of his mission
became evident, he was heard to throw out dark mysterious threats, which
were disregarded at the time, but were brought vividly to recollection
afterwards, when the deeds of his master forced themselves into notice.
It will presently be seen that Nena Sahib, whatever were his thoughts at
the time, did not depart, when the Revolt commenced, from his usual
demeanour towards the English; he was courteous to them, and was always
courteously saluted by them when he rode past.
How interesting it is—nay, how affecting—to trace the mode in which the
unfortunate Europeans at Cawnpore became gradually shut out from
communication with the external world; neither knowing what was
occurring east and west of them, nor able to communicate news of their
own sufferings! In May, messages and letters passed to and from them; in
June, authentic intelligence was superseded by painful rumours; in July,
a deadly silence was followed by a horrible revelation.
[Illustration:
NENA SAHIB. From a picture painted at Bithoor in 1850, by Mr Beechy,
portrait-painter to King of Oude.
]
When the Meerut and Delhi outbreaks occurred, the attention of the civil
and military authorities was turned to the importance of securing
Cawnpore: because of its native troops, its store of ammunition, its
large treasury, its considerable English population, and its position on
the Ganges and the great road. Sir Henry Lawrence, knowing that Sir Hugh
Wheeler’s force in European troops was weak, sent him fifty English
infantry in the third week in May, and also sent the aid (aid as it was
hoped to be) of two squadrons of Oude irregular horse. But Lucknow could
ill spare these armed men, and hence the telegrams already briefly
adverted to. First, Lawrence to Canning: ‘Cawnpore to be reinforced with
all speed. When may her Majesty’s 84th be expected?’ Then Canning to
Lawrence: ‘It is impossible to place a wing of Europeans at Cawnpore in
less time than twenty-five days.’ Then Wheeler to Canning: ‘All is quiet
here, but impossible to say how long it will continue so.’ Next a
telegram from Benares, announcing that every possible exertion would be
made to send on troops to Cawnpore as fast as they came from Calcutta.
Then, on the 25th, Wheeler telegraphed to Canning: ‘Passed anxious night
and day, in consequence of a report on very good authority that there
would be an outbreak during one or the other. All possible preparations
to meet it, but I rejoice to say that none occurred.’ On this, Lawrence
sent his earnest message recommending the establishment of ekah
dâks—anything at any expense—to carry troops on to Cawnpore. Towards the
close of the month, about seventy men of the Queen’s 84th reached the
city; and Sir Hugh telegraphed ‘All quiet:’ at the same time making very
evident the existence of anxiety on his mind concerning his prospects.
The governor-general telegraphed to him: ‘Your anxious position is well
understood; and no means have been neglected to give you aid.’ On
another day Sir Hugh telegraphed: ‘All quiet still, but I feel by no
means certain it will continue so. The civil and military are depending
entirely upon me for advice and assistance.’ He announced to Lawrence
that he had been obliged to send irregular cavalry to clear the roads of
insurgent ruffians; and added, ‘Europeans are arriving but very slowly
here.’ The dilemma and doubt were painful to all; for Viscount Canning
had few troops to send up from Calcutta, and no facilities for sending
them rapidly; while, on the other hand, he did not know that death had
cut off General Anson ere an advance could be made to Delhi and Cawnpore
from the northwest. Hence such telegrams as the following from Canning
to Anson: ‘Cawnpore and Lucknow are severely pressed, and the country
between Delhi and Cawnpore is passing into the hands of the rebels. It
is of the utmost importance to prevent this, and to relieve Cawnpore;
but nothing but rapid action will do this.... It is impossible to
overrate the importance of shewing European troops between Delhi and
Cawnpore.’ Sir Hugh Wheeler’s anxieties did not relate wholly to
Cawnpore; he knew that a wide region depended on that city for its
continuance in loyalty. By the 2d of June only ninety European troops
had reached him. On the next day he telegraphed that the population was
much excited, and that unfavourable reports were coming in from the
districts between Cawnpore and Lucknow. To make matters worse, Lawrence
was becoming weak at the last-named place, and Wheeler sent him
fifty-two of his highly cherished English troops—a number that shews how
precious, from its scarcity, this military element was regarded by the
two commanders. ‘This leaves me weak,’ said Wheeler; and well might he
say so. Then occurred the cutting of the telegraph wires on all sides of
Cawnpore, and the stoppage of the dâk-runners. After this, all was doubt
and mystery, for it was only by stealthy means that letters and messages
could leave or enter that city. By degrees there reached the Company’s
officers at Lucknow, Allahabad, and Benares, indirect news telling of
disaster—of a rebellious rising of the native troops at Cawnpore; of the
mutineers being aided and abetted by the Nena Sahib of Bithoor; of all
the Europeans taking refuge in an intrenched barrack; of the forlorn
band being regularly besieged in that spot; of terrible sufferings being
endured; and of the soldiers and civilians, the women and children,
being brought to death by numerous privations. The commissioner at
Benares, when these rumours of disaster reached him, telegraphed to
Calcutta: ‘May God Almighty defend Cawnpore; for no help can we afford.’
And so it was throughout June—Benares, Allahabad, Lucknow, Agra, all
were equally unable to send aid to the beleaguered garrison. Gradually
the messages became fewer, and the rumours darker; escaped fugitives and
native messengers came in stealthily to one or other of the neighbouring
towns; and men talked of a massacre at Cawnpore of English fugitives
from Futtehgur, of another massacre of English in boats bound for
Calcutta, of women and children placed in confinement, and of Nena
Sahib’s cruelty.
Such was the condition of Cawnpore as viewed from without, by those who
could necessarily know but little of the truth. Let us now enter and
trace the course of events as experienced by the sufferers themselves.
There is abundant evidence that, previous to the actual outbreak at
Cawnpore, the native troops—consisting of the 1st, 53d, and 56th B. N.
I., and the 2d native cavalry—were much agitated by the rumours of
mutiny elsewhere; and that the European inhabitants felt sensibly the
paucity of English soldiers at that place. A lady, the wife of the
magistrate and collector of Cawnpore—one of those who, with all her
family, were barbarously slaughtered in cold blood a few weeks
afterwards—writing to her friends on the 15th of May, said: ‘Cawnpore is
quiet, and the regiments here are stanch; but there is no saying that
they would remain long so if they came in contact with some of their
mutinous brethren. We have only about a hundred European soldiers here
altogether, and six guns.... Down-country, from Meerut to Dinapore,
there is but one regiment of Europeans, of which we have a hundred.’
Nevertheless, although the sepoys at Cawnpore were restless, an
impression prevailed that, even if they joined in the mutiny, and
marched off to Delhi, they would not inflict any injury on the military
commander, Sir Hugh Wheeler, or the other English officers, who were
much respected by them. The general thought it right to obtain correct
though secret information from spies who mixed among the men in the
cantonment; and these spies reported that the three infantry regiments,
except a few refractory sepoys, appeared well disposed towards the
government; whereas the 2d native cavalry, discontented and surly, had
sent their families to their homes, to be out of danger, and were in the
habit of holding nightly meetings or _punchayets_ (a kind of jury of
five persons, one of the Hindoo institutions of very ancient formation),
in their lines, to concert measures of insubordination. These troopers
endeavoured to bring over the foot regiments to a scheme for rising in
revolt, seizing the government treasure, marching off to Delhi, and
presenting that treasure to the newly restored Mogul as a token of their
allegiance. The European inhabitants were numerous; for they comprised
not only the officers and civilians with their families, but European
merchants, missionaries, engineers, pensioners, &c., and also many
nonresidents, who had either come to Cawnpore from parts of the country
supposed to be less protected, or had been stopped there on their way
up-country by the mutineers in the Doab. These, relying on the report
concerning the apparently favourable feeling among the native infantry,
made no immediate attempt to quit the place. Sir Hugh Wheeler, however,
did not deem it consistent with his duty to remain unprepared. Cawnpore
is built on a dead level, without stronghold or place of refuge, and
could not long be held against a rebel besieging force; the cantonment
was at a considerable distance; and the general resolved on making some
sort of defensive arrangement irrespective both of the city and the
cantonment. He secured sufficient boats to convey the whole of the
Europeans down the Ganges if danger should appear; and he formed a plan
for protection at night in an intrenched position. This stronghold, if
so it may be called, afterwards rendered memorable as ‘the
Intrenchment,’ was a square plot of ground on the grand military parade,
measuring about two hundred yards in each direction; within it were two
barrack hospitals, a few other buildings, and a well; while the boundary
was formed by a trench and parapet or breastwork of earth, intended to
be armed and defended in case of attack. The intrenchment was entirely
distinct both from the city and from the cantonment, and was further
from the Ganges than either of them, about a quarter of a mile out of
the Allahabad and Cawnpore high road. On the side of it furthest from
the river were several barracks in course of construction. It was not
intended that the European civilians should at once enter the
intrenchment, but that they should regard that spot as a place of
shelter in time of need. Sir Hugh brought into this place a supply of
grain, rice, salt, sugar, tea, coffee, rum, beer, &c., calculated at
thirty days’ consumption for one thousand persons. He gave orders to the
assistant-commissary to blow up the magazine if a mutiny should take
place; while the collector was instructed to convey all the Company’s
cash, estimated at ten or twelve lacs of rupees, from the treasury in
the city to the cantonment—an instruction which, as we shall see, he was
able only to obey in part. As another precaution, the executive
commissariat and pay-officers, with all their records and chests, were
removed into bungalows adjacent to the intrenchment. There is reason to
believe that the ringleaders among the native troops sought to terrify
the rest into mutiny by representing that the digging, which had been
seen actively in progress at the intrenchment, was the beginning of the
construction of a series of mines, intended to blow them all up.
One of the most painful considerations associated with these events in
May was, that the heartless man who afterwards wrought such misery was
trustingly relied upon as a friend. The magistrate’s wife, in a series
of letters before adverted to, wrote under date May 16th: ‘Should the
native troops here mutiny, we should either go into cantonments, or to a
place called Bithoor, where the Peishwa’s successor resides. He is a
great friend of C——‘s [the magistrate’s], and is a man of enormous
wealth and influence; and he has assured C—— that we should all be quite
safe there. I myself would much prefer going to the cantonment, to be
with the other ladies; but C—— thinks it would be better for me and our
precious children to be at Bithoor.’ Again, on the 18th: ‘If there
should be an outbreak here, dearest C—— has made all the necessary
arrangements for me and the children to go to Bithoor. He will go there
himself, and, with the aid of the rajah, to whose house we are going, he
will collect and head a force of fifteen hundred fighting-men, and bring
them into Cawnpore to take the insurgents by surprise. This is a plan of
their own, and is quite a secret; for the object of it is to come on the
mutineers unawares.’ Here, then, in the month of May, was Nena Sahib
plotting with the English against the mutineers. It was on the 20th that
Sir Hugh, rendered uneasy by the symptoms around, sent to Lucknow for
three hundred European soldiers; but as Sir Henry Lawrence could hardly
spare one-sixth of that number, arrangements were made for accommodating
as many English families as possible in the cantonment, and for fitting
up the intrenchment as a place of refuge. On the 21st, the magistrate,
with Wheeler’s consent, wrote to the Nena, begging him to send the aid
of a few of his Mahratta troops. The native soldiers being hutted in the
cantonment, and the few English soldiers barracked in the intrenchment,
it was speedily determined that—while the English officers should sleep
at the cantonment, to avoid shewing distrust of the native troops—their
wives and families, and most of the civilians, should remain at night in
the intrenchment, under protection of English soldiers. On the first
night of this arrangement, ‘there were an immense number of ladies and
gentlemen assembled in the intrenchment; and oh! what an anxious night
it was! The children added much to our distress and anxiety,’ said the
lady whose letters were lately quoted; ‘it was some hours before I could
get them to sleep. I did not lie down the whole night. Extraordinary it
was, and most providential too, that we had a thunderstorm that night,
with a good deal of rain, which cooled the air a little; had it not been
for this, we should have suffered much more.’ An English officer, in
relation to this same night, said: ‘Nearly all the ladies in the station
were roused out of their houses, and hurried off to the barracks. The
scene in the morning you can imagine. They were all huddled together in
a small building, just as they had left their houses. On each side were
the guns drawn up; the men had been kept standing by them all night
through the rain, expecting an instant attack. There are few people now
in the station but believe this attack had been intended, and had merely
been delayed on finding us so well prepared.’ On the last day of the
month—a day that seems to have ended all communication from this hapless
lady to her friends in England—she wrote: ‘We are now almost in a state
of siege. We sleep every night in a tent pitched by the barracks, with
guns behind and before. We are intrenched, and are busy getting in a
month’s provisions in case of scarcity. For the first four or five
nights, we scarcely closed our eyes.... Last night, the sepoys of the
1st regiment threatened to mutiny, and poor Mrs Ewart was in dreadful
distress when Colonel Ewart went to sleep in the lines, according to
orders; and he himself fully expected to be killed before morning; but,
thank God, all passed off quietly. The general remains in the barracks
day and night, to be at hand if anything should happen. We still pass
the day at the Ewarts’ house; but at night every one returns to the
barracks, which is a wretched place.... Poor Mrs —— has quite lost her
reason from terror and excitement. Oh! it is a hard trial to bear, and
almost too much; but the sight of the children gives us strength and
courage.’
Colonel Ewart, mentioned in the above paragraph, and Major Hillersdon,
were the commandants of the 1st and 53d native regiments, respectively;
they lived in pleasant bungalows outside Cawnpore; but at this perilous
time they slept near their men in the cantonment, while their families
took refuge within the intrenchment. Mrs Ewart—destined, like the
magistrate’s wife, to be in a few weeks numbered among the outraged and
slaughtered—wrote like her of the miseries of their position, even at
that early period of their privation. Speaking of the interior of the
intrenchment, she said: ‘We have a tent, which is, of course, more
private and comfortable for the night; and at present there is no
occasion to spend days as well as nights there, though many people do
so. This is fortunate, since the weather is fearfully hot. God grant
that we may not be exposed to such suffering as a confinement within
that intrenchment must entail; even should we be able to bear it, I know
not how our poor little ones could go through the trial.’ The general
feelings of the English in the place towards the close of May cannot be
better conveyed than in the following words: ‘We are living face to face
with great and awful realities—life and property most insecure, enemies
within our camp, treachery and distrust everywhere. We can scarcely
believe in the change which has so suddenly overcast all the pleasant
repose and enjoyment of life. We are almost in a state of siege, with
dangers all around us—some seen, some hidden.... Major Hillersdon joins
us daily at our four o’clock dinner, and we stay together till half-past
seven, when we go to our melancholy night-quarters, behind guns and
intrenchments. My husband betakes himself to his couch in the midst of
his sepoys; and you can fancy the sort of nights we have to pass. These
are real trials, but we have not experienced much actual physical
suffering yet.’ In another letter she further described the intrenchment
and barracks as they were at night: ‘We returned to those melancholy
night-quarters. Oh, such a scene! Men, officers, women and children,
beds and chairs, all mingled together inside and outside the barracks;
some talking or even laughing, some very frightened, some defiant,
others despairing. Such sickening sights these for peaceful women; and
the miserable reflection that all is caused not by open foes, but by the
treachery of those we had fed and pampered, honoured and trusted, for so
many years.’ Colonel Ewart, in probably the last letter received from
him by his friends in England, wrote on the 31st: ‘The treasury,
containing some ten or twelve lacs of rupees, is situated five miles
from the cantonment. It has hitherto been thought inexpedient to bring
the treasure into the cantonment; but the general has now resolved on
making the attempt to-morrow. Please God, he will succeed. He is an
excellent officer, very determined, self-possessed in the midst of
danger, fearless of responsibility—that terrible bugbear that paralyses
so many men in command.’ This was the character generally given to Sir
Hugh Wheeler, who was much liked and trusted. The state of suspense in
which the officers themselves were placed, not knowing whether revolt
and outrage would speedily mark the conduct of regiments that had up to
that moment remained faithful, was well expressed in a letter written by
one of the infantry officers: ‘I only wish that I might get orders to go
out with my regiment, or alone with my company, against some of the
mutineers; so that we could put the men to the test, and see whether
they really mean to stick to us or not, and end this state of suspense.’
Numerous scraps of local information, portions of letters, diaries,
conversations, and scarcely intelligible messages, in English,
Hindustani, and Persian, help to make up the materials out of which
alone a connected narrative of the events at Cawnpore can be prepared.
These would all have been very insufficient, had it not fortunately
happened that an officer of the Company, an educated man, lived to
record upon paper his experience of four weeks spent in the
intrenchment, and three subsequent weeks of imprisonment in the city.
This was Mr Shepherd, belonging to the commissariat department. How his
life was saved, and how those dear to him were savagely butchered, will
be seen further on; at present, it will suffice to remark that he lived
to prepare, for the information of the government, a record of all he
knew on this dreadful subject; and that the record thus prepared
contains more information than any other brought to light amid that
dismal wreck of human hopes and human existence.
When the month of June opened, symptoms became so unfavourable that the
non-military Christian residents thought it expedient to move from the
city, and obtain shelter in the English church and other buildings near
the intrenchment. Day after day small portions of cash, and Company’s
papers of various kinds, were brought by the commissariat officers to
head-quarters. The collector, acting on Sir Hugh’s instructions, had
endeavoured to bring the Company’s treasure from the city to the
intrenchment; but he met too much opposition to enable him to effect
this, save in part; and the aid of three or four hundred men was
obtained from Nena Sahib, to guard the treasury and its contents. What
was passing through the heart of that treacherous man at the time, none
but himself could know; but the English officers, whether forgetful or
not of his grudge against the Company, seem to have acted as though they
placed reliance on him. On the 3d, it being thought improper to keep any
public money under the sepoy guard at the office, the commissariat
treasure-chest, containing about thirty-four thousand rupees in cash,
together with numerous papers and account-books, was brought into the
intrenchment, and placed in the quarter-guard there. In short, nothing
was deemed safe by Wheeler and the other officials, unless it was under
their own immediate care.
[Illustration:
The Intrenchment at Cawnpore.
]
On the 5th of June arrived the crisis which was to tax to the utmost the
firmness and courage, the tact and discrimination, the kindness and
thoughtfulness, of the general on whom so many lives now depended. He
had appealed, and appealed in vain, for reinforcements from other
quarters: no one possessed troops that could readily be sent to him; and
he had therefore to meet his troubles manfully, with such resources as
were at hand. At two o’clock in the morning, after a vain attempt to
draw the native infantry from their allegiance, the 2d cavalry rose in a
body, gave a great shout, mounted their horses, set fire to the bungalow
of their quarter-master-sergeant, and took possession of thirty-six
elephants in the commissariat cattle-yard. The main body then marched
off towards Nawabgunge; while the ringleaders remained behind to assail
once more the honesty of the infantry. The 1st regiment N. I. yielded to
the temptation, and marched out of the lines about three o’clock; but
before doing so, the sepoys shewed a lingering affection for the English
officers of the regiment; those officers had for some time been in the
habit of sleeping in the quarter-guard of the regiment, to indicate
their confidence in the men; and now the men begged them—nay, forced
them—to go into the intrenchment, as a means of personal safety. An
alarm gun was fired, and all the non-combatants were brought from the
church-compound into the intrenchment—a necessary precaution, for
burning bungalows were seen in various directions. A few days
previously, a battery of Oude horse-artillery had been sent from Lucknow
by Lawrence to aid Wheeler at Cawnpore; and this battery was, about
seven o’clock on the eventful morning of the 5th, ordered with a company
of English troops to pursue the two mutinous regiments. But here a
dilemma at once presented itself. Could the 53d and 56th regiments be
relied upon? Sir Hugh thought not; and therefore he countermanded the
order for the pursuit of the other two regiments. The wisdom of this
determination was soon shewn; for about ten o’clock the whole of the
native officers of the 53d and 56th came to the general and announced
that their hold over the fidelity of the men was gone. While they were
yet speaking, a bugle was heard, and the two regiments were seen to
march off to join their companions at Nawabgunge; any attempt on the
English being checked by the pointing of a gun at them. The apparently
faithful native officers were directed to organise a few stragglers who
had not joined the mutineers; they left the intrenchment for this
purpose, but did not return: whether they joined in the revolt, or went
quietly to their own homes to avoid the resentment of the sepoys, was
not fully known. As soon as possible, carts were sent to the cantonment
to bring away the sick from the hospital, and such muskets and other
property as might be useful. In consequence of this, the two hospitals
or barracks in the intrenchment became very much crowded, many of the
people being compelled to sleep in the open air through want of room.
All the civilians were then armed, and directed what they should do for
the common good. The Oude artillery, shewing signs of being smitten by
the prevailing mania for revolt, were disarmed and dismissed that same
evening.
[Illustration:
Plan of Sir H. Wheeler’s Intrenchment at Cawnpore. From an official
survey.
]
The scene must now be shifted, to shew Nena Sahib’s share in the work.
Rumours came to the intrenchment that when the rebels reached
Nawabgunge, he quitted Bithoor and came out to meet them; that he placed
himself at their head; that they all went together to the treasury; that
he carried off a large amount of government treasure on the government
elephants; and that he gave up the rest to the sepoys as a prize.
Thereupon the papers were burnt, and the treasury and the collector’s
office destroyed. The sepoys guarding the magazine would not allow that
building to be blown up by the government officer; the mutineers brought
as many country carts as they could procure, and carried off a
considerable quantity of baggage and ammunition. All then marched off to
Kullianpore, being one stage on the road to Delhi, except a few troopers
who remained to finish the work of destruction among the bungalows. The
Oude artillery, lately disarmed and dismissed by Wheeler, now went to
Nena Sahib, and laid before him a plan for attacking the intrenchment,
concerning which they were able to give much information. They reported
that the cantonment contained many guns, and much powder and ammunition,
with which the intrenchment might safely be attacked. There was another
fact favourable to the rebels. One end of the great Ganges Canal enters
the river near Cawnpore; and it had been contemplated by the government
to send a large store of shot and shell by that canal up to Roorkee,
through Allygurh and Meerut; but as the Doab and Rohilcund were in too
disturbed a state to permit this, thirty-five boats laden with shot and
shell were this day lying in the canal near the cantonment. This large
store of ammunition the rebel artillerymen suggested should be at once
seized; and the advice was acted on. A native inhabitant, who afterwards
gave information to the English, said that when the Nena openly took
part with the rebels, he released four hundred prisoners in the town,
whose fetters he ordered to be knocked off; ‘and having opened the door
of the armoury, he gave the order that whatever prisoner was willing to
follow him should arm himself with gun, pistol, or sword, as he liked
best’—a story highly probable, though not within the power of Mr
Shepherd to confirm. Before the Nena finally committed himself to a
course of rebellion and war, the 1st native infantry made their head
subadar a general; and the general then promoted all the havildars and
naiks to be subadars and jemadars.
Two officers of the 56th regiment were fortunate enough to be away from
Cawnpore and the cantonment altogether, on the day of the mutiny. They
had been sent with two hundred men to Ooral, a village or town at some
distance, on the 2d of June. When that regiment mutinied at the
cantonment, and when the news of the mutiny reached Ooral, the two
hundred did not long delay in following their example. The officers,
seeing their danger, at once galloped off, taking nothing with them but
the clothes on their backs, and their swords and revolvers. Their tale
was as full of adventure as many that have already occupied these pages.
They found their way to Calpee, to Humeerpoor, to various places; they
met with two brother-officers escaping from mutineers at Humeerpoor; the
four rowed boats, swam rivers, entered villages where they were
plundered of their weapons and clothes, roamed through jungles, fed on
chupatties and water when they could obtain such fare, picked up bits of
native clothing, encountered friendly Hindoos at one time and marauding
enemies at another. Of the two officers from Cawnpore, one died mad in
the jungle, from heat, thirst, and suffering; but the other, Ensign
Browne, joined the body of English troops at Futtehpoor, after
thirty-seven days of wandering. All the other English officers of the
four native regiments appear to have been at or near Cawnpore at the
time of the outbreak; and all were called upon to bear their bitter
share in the woes that followed—woes rendered more distressing by
falling equally on innocent women and children as on themselves—nay,
much more heavily.
The sun rose upon an anxious scene on the 6th of June. Sir Hugh Wheeler
and nearly all the Europeans—men, women, and children—military,
civilians, and servants—were crowded within the intrenchment; while the
rebel troops, four regiments and an artillery battery, had not only
abandoned their allegiance, but were about to besiege those who were
lately their masters. The rebels brought into requisition all the
government work-people and the bullocks, in the town and cantonment, to
drag guns into position near the intrenchment, and to convey thither a
store of powder and ammunition. They brought six guns (two of them
18-pounders) to bear in a line, and opened fire about ten o’clock in the
forenoon. Instantly a bugle sounded within the intrenchment; and every
man, from the highest officers down to the clerks and the drummers, flew
to arms, and took up the position assigned to him. There was only a
breast-high earthen parapet, bounded by a small trench, between the
besiegers and the besieged: hence there was nothing but indomitable
courage and unceasing watchfulness that could enable the English to hold
their own against the treacherous native troops. Here, then, were nine
hundred persons[17] hemmed into a small space, forming their citadel,
while the surrounding country was wholly in the hands of the rebels. Out
of the nine hundred, barely one-third were fighting-men; while
considerably more than one-third were women and children, to be fed and
protected at all hazards. The few guns within the intrenchment answered
those from without; but all the men not employed with those guns
crouched down behind the breastwork, under the hot wind and scorching
sun of a June day, ready to defend the spot with musketry if a nearer
attack were made. The rebels did not attempt this; they adopted the
safer course of bringing up their guns nearer to the beleaguered place.
Sir Hugh Wheeler had eight pieces of ordnance—two brass guns of the Oude
battery, two long 9-pounders, and four smaller; he had also a good store
of ammunition, buried underground, and had thus a defensive power of
some importance. On the other hand, his anxieties were great; for one of
the two buildings (they had been used as hospitals for European troops)
was thatched, liable to be fired by a chance shot; the commissariat
officers were unable to bring in more supplies; the shelter was
direfully insufficient for nine hundred persons in a fierce Indian
climate; and the women and children could do little or nothing to assist
in the defence of all.
The native informant, above adverted to, states that when Nena Sahib
found the mutineers about to depart to Delhi, ‘he represented to the
native officers that it would not be correct to proceed towards Delhi
until they had entirely destroyed the officers and European soldiers,
and women and children of the Christian religion; and that they should,
if possible, by deceiving the officers, accomplish this grand object, or
they would be good for nothing.’ Such words were certainly consistent
with the machinations of a villain who sought a terrible revenge for
some injury, real or pretended; but they do not the less illustrate the
remarkable subtlety and secretiveness of the Hindoo character, so long
concealing a deadly hatred under a friendly exterior. This same native,
who was in Cawnpore at the time, further said: ‘In the city it was as if
the day of judgment had come, when the sepoys of the infantry and the
troopers of the cavalry, the jingling of whose sword-scabbards and the
tread of whose horses’ feet resounded on all sides, proceeded with guns
of various sizes, and ammunition, from the magazine through the suburbs
of Cawnpore towards the intrenchment.’ In relation to the conduct of
native servants of the Company on that day, Mr Shepherd said: ‘None of
the native writers, Bengalees and others in government offices or
merchants’ employ, went into the intrenchment; they remained in the
city, where they appear to have received much annoyance from the
mutineers; and some had to hide themselves to save their lives. The
(native) commissariat contractors’ [those who supplied provisions and
stores for the troops, ordered and paid for by the head commissary] ‘all
discontinued their supplies from the 6th; or rather, were unable to
bring them in, from the way the mutineers surrounded the intrenchment on
all sides, permitting no ingress or egress at any time except under
cover of night.’ Those natives must, in truth, have been placed in a
perplexing position, between employers whom they wished to serve but
could not, and rebels who sought to tamper with their honesty.
Another day broke, revealing a further strengthening of the rebels’
attack. They increased their number of guns, four of which were
24-pounders; and with the shot from these guns not only were many
valuable men struck down, but the walls and verandahs of the hospitals
pierced, spreading terror among the helpless inmates. There was but one
well within the intrenchment; and so hot was the fire from without,
that, to use the words of Mr Shepherd, ‘it was as much as giving a man’s
life-blood to go and draw a bucket of water; and while there was any
water remaining in the large jars, usually kept in the verandah for the
soldiers’ use, nobody ventured to the well; but after the second day,
the demand became so great that a bheestee bag of water was with
difficulty got for five rupees, and a bucket for a rupee. Most of the
servants deserted, and it therefore became a matter of necessity for
every person to fetch his own water, which was usually done during the
night, when the enemy could not well direct their shots.’ What was the
degree of thirst borne under these circumstances, none but the forlorn
garrison could ever know. As there was no place under which to shelter
live cattle, some of the animals were let loose, and others slaughtered;
entailing a necessary exhaustion of meat-rations after three or four
days. The commissariat servants, however, now and then managed to get
hold of a stray bullock or cow near the intrenchment at night, which
served for a change. Not only was it difficult to obtain suitable food
to eat, but the native servants took every opportunity to escape, and
the cooking was in consequence conducted under very sorry conditions.
The tale of accumulated suffering need not, and indeed cannot, be
followed day by day: several days must be grouped together, and the
general character of the incidents noted—so far as authentic recitals
furnish the materials. Meat, as has just been intimated, soon became
scarce; hogsheads of rum and malt liquor were frequently burst by
cannon-balls, but the supply still remained considerable; chupatties and
rice were the chief articles of food for all. The English found their
troubles increase in every way: the rebels at first fired only cannon on
them; but by degrees, after burning the English church and all other
buildings around and near the intrenchment, the sepoys masked themselves
behind the ruined walls, and kept up an almost incessant fire of
musketry, shooting down many who might have escaped the cannon-balls.
There were seven unfinished barracks outside the intrenchment, three of
them at about a furlong distance. These were scenes of many an exciting
encounter. Captain Moore of the 32d foot, a gallant and intrepid
officer, often encountered the rebels near those places. He would send
some of his men, with field-telescopes, to watch the position of the
enemy’s guns, from the roof of one of the barracks, as a guidance for
the besieged; and as soon as these men were attacked, a handful of
gallant companions would rush out of the intrenchment, and drive off the
assailants with a fire of musketry. The enemy having no cannon on this
side, a sort of drawn battle ensued: the besiegers holding three or four
of the barracks, and the besieged maintaining a hold of the three
nearest to the intrenchment After a while, the enemy brought one gun
round to this quarter; but twenty English made a sortie at midnight on
the 11th, spiked the gun, and returned safely. Whenever fighting on
anything like terms of equality took place, the European troops proved
themselves a match for many times their number of natives; but any
daring achievements for effectual liberation were rendered nugatory by
the presence of so many helpless women and children, whose safety was
the first thought in the minds of the men, whether civilians or
military. Numbers of the poor creatures died within the first week, from
illness, heat, fright, want of room, want of proper food and care. In
the obituary of many an English newspaper, when news of the terrible
calamity had crossed the ocean, might be read that such a one, probably
an officer’s wife, had ‘died in the intrenchment at Cawnpore;’ what that
intrenchment meant, few readers knew, and fewer knew what sufferings had
preceded the death. The dead bodies were thrown into a well outside the
intrenchment, lest they should engender disease by any mode of burial
within the crowded and stifling enclosure; and even this sad office
could only be rendered under a shower of shot and shell. ‘The distress
was so great,’ says Mr Shepherd, ‘that none could offer a word of
consolation to his friend, or attempt to administer to the wants of each
other. I have seen the dead bodies of officers, and tenderly brought-up
young ladies of rank (colonels’ and captains’ daughters), put outside
the verandah amongst the rest, to await the time when the fatigue-party
usually went round to carry the dead to the well; for there was scarcely
room to shelter the living.’
During all these days, Cawnpore itself, and the country between it and
the intrenchment, became prey to a marauding host of sepoys, liberated
prisoners, and ruffians of every kind. The native before adverted to,
one Nujeer Jewarree, referring to this period, said: ‘In whatever shop
the sepoys entered to ask for sugar or rice, they plundered everything
belonging to the citizen that they could find; so much so, that plunder
and oppression were the order of the day. Every violent man did what
came into his mind; and the troopers got possession of a note, the value
of which amounted to twenty-five thousand rupees, belonging to
Eman-u-Dowlah and Bakir Ali. One troop, or thereabouts, left the
cantonment and proceeded to the buildings in which the civil and revenue
and judicial courts were held, and commenced firing them. In the city
and gardens there was so much villainy committed that travelling became
dangerous, and to kill a man was quite easy. They (the marauders)
committed deeds of oppression and plundered each other; some forcibly
cut the grain out of the fields, and others were occupied in picking up
plundered property. He then spoke of the houses and offices of certain
English merchants and traders—Greenway, Crump, Mackintosh, Reid,
Marshall, Kirk, &c.—and of the ‘lacs’ of treasure that were plundered
from each; too vaguely estimated to be relied on in detail, but
evidently denoting a scene of unscrupulous pillage. Another native,
Nerput, presently to be noticed more particularly, said: ‘Zemindars of
the neighbourhood are fighting among themselves in payment of old
quarrels; sepoys, making for their homes with plundered treasure, have
been deprived of their plunder, and, if any opposition is made,
immediately murdered. Such few Europeans as had remained beyond the
intrenchment, were caught and put to death.’
The native authority just referred to states (although the statement is
not confirmed by Mr Shepherd), that on the 9th of June Sir Hugh Wheeler
sent a message to Nena Sahib, demanding why he had thus turned against
the English, who had hitherto been treated by him in a friendly spirit;
and why he was causing the death of innocent women and children—to which
the Nena gave no other reply than from the cannon’s mouth.
One day was so much like another, after the actual commencement of the
siege, that the various narrators make little attempt to record the
particular events of each. Every day brought its miseries, until the cup
nearly overflowed. The food was lessening; the water was difficult to
obtain; strength was sinking; lives were being rapidly lost; the
miscreant rebels were accumulating in greater and greater number outside
the intrenchment; the two buildings were becoming every day more and
more riddled with shot; the wounded had their wretchedness increased by
the absence of almost everything needful to the comfort of the sick; the
hearts of the men were wrung with anguish at seeing the sufferings borne
by the women; and the women found their resolution and patience terribly
shaken when they saw their innocent little ones dying from disease and
want.
A scene was presented on the 13th that filled every one with horror. The
officers and their families had hitherto lived chiefly in tents, within
the intrenchment; but the rebels now began to fire _red-hot_ shot, which
not only necessitated the removal of the tents, but ignited the
thatch-roof of one of the two hospitals. This building contained the
wives and children of the common soldiers, and the sick and wounded. The
flames spread so rapidly, and the dire confusion among the wretched
creatures was such, that forty of the helpless invalids were burned to
death before aid could reach them. The rebels appeared to have
calculated on all the men within the intrenchment rushing to save the
victims from the flames, leaving the besiegers to enter with musket and
sword; and so threatening was the attack, so close the approach of the
enemy, that the Europeans were forced to remain watchful at their frail
earthen defence-work, despite their wish to rescue the shrieking
sufferers in the hospital. Nearly all the medicines and the surgical
instruments were at the same time destroyed by the fire, affording a
hopeless prospect to those who might afterwards fall ill or be wounded.
The rebels by this time amounted to four thousand in number, and their
attacks increased in frequency and closeness; but the besieged had not
yielded an inch; every man within the intrenchment, a few only excepted,
was intrusted with five or six muskets, all of which were kept ready
loaded, to pour a fire into any insurgents who advanced within
musket-shot. Bayonets and swords were also ready at hand, for those who
could use them. The condition of every one was rendered more deplorable
than before by this day’s calamity; the fire had wrought such mischief
that many of the men, who had until then occasionally sheltered
themselves under a roof for a few hours at a time, were now forced to
remain permanently in the open air, exposed to a fierce Indian sun at a
date only one week before the summer solstice. That many were struck
down by _coup de soleil_ at such a time may well be conceived. The poor
ladies, too, and the wives of the soldiers, were rendered more desolate
and comfortless than ever, by the destruction of much of their clothing
during the fire, as well as of many little domestic comforts which they
had contrived to bring with them in their hurried flight from their
homes in the city or the cantonment.
What transpired outside the intrenchment, none of the captives knew; and
even at later times it was difficult to ascertain the real truth. The
native chronicler already referred to speaks of many deeds of cruelty,
but without affording means of verification. On one day, he says, a
family was seen approaching from the west in a carriage; the husband was
at once killed; the others, ‘one lady and one grown-up young lady and
three children,’ were brought before the Nena, who ordered them to be
instantly put to death. ‘The lady begged the Nena to spare her life; but
this disgraceful man would not in any way hearken to her, and took them
all into the plain. At that time the sun was very hot, and the lady
said: “The sun is very hot, take me into the shade;” but no one
listened. On four sides the children were catching hold of their
mother’s gown and saying: “Mamma, come to the bungalow and give me some
bread and water.” At length, having been tied hand to hand, and made to
stand up on the plain, they were shot down by pistol-bullets.’ This
story, touching amid all its quaintness of recital, was probably quite
true in its main features. Another lady, whom he calls the wife of Mukan
Sahib, merchant, and who had been hiding for four or five days in the
garden of her bungalow, ‘came out one evening, and was discovered. She
had through fear changed her appearance by putting on an Hindustani
bodice, and folding a towel around her head. She was taken before the
Nena, who ordered her to be killed. The writer of this journal having
gone in person, saw the head of that lady cut off, and presented as a
nazir (gift of royalty).’ There can be no question that the vicinity of
Cawnpore was at that time in a frightful state. Not only were mutinous
sepoys and sowars engaged in hostilities against the ‘Feringhees,’ whom
they had so lately served, and whose ‘salt’ they had eaten; but many of
the ambitious petty rajahs and chieftains took advantage of the anarchy
to become leaders on their own special account; plunderers and released
prisoners were displaying all their ferocious recklessness; while timid,
sneaking villagers, too cowardly to be openly aggressive, were in many
instances quite willing to look complacently at deeds of savage
brutality, if those deeds might leave a little _loot_, or plunder, as
their share. Consequently, when any English refugees from other towns
passed that way, their chance of safety was small indeed.
Before tracing the course of events in the intrenchment during the third
week in June, we must advert to another calamity. The griefs and
sufferings endured by the English soldiers and residents at Cawnpore did
not fill up the measure of Nena Sahib’s iniquity. Another stain rests on
his name in connection with the fate of an unfortunate body of fugitives
from Futteghur. It is an episode in the great Cawnpore tragedy; and must
be narrated in this place, in connection with the events of the month.
Futteghur, as will be seen by reference to a map, is situated higher up
the Ganges than Cawnpore, near Furruckabad. Practically, it is not so
much a distinct town, as the military station or cantonment for the
place last named. Furruckabad itself is a city of sixty thousand
inhabitants; handsome, cleaner, and more healthy than most Indian
cities, carrying on a considerable trading and banking business, and
standing in the centre of a fertile and cultivated region. It has no
other fortifications than a sort of mud-fort connected with the native
nawab’s residence. When this nawab became, like many others, a
stipendiary of the modern rulers of India, the British built a military
cantonment at Futteghur, about three miles distant, on the right bank of
the river. Towards the close of May, Futteghur contained the 10th
regiment Bengal native infantry, together with a few other native
troops. Among the chief English officers stationed there, were General
Goldie, Colonels Smith and Tucker; Majors Robertson, Phillot, and Munro;
Captains Phillimore and Vibert; Lieutenants Simpson, Swettenham, and
Fitzgerald; and Ensigns Henderson and Eckford. The troops displayed much
insubordination as the month closed; and on the 3d of June the symptoms
were so threatening, that it was deemed prudent to arrange for sending
off the women and children for safety to Cawnpore—in ignorance that the
Europeans in that city were in a still more perilous state. Boats had
already been procured, and held in readiness for any such exigency. On
the next day the 10th infantry exhibited such ominous signs of mutiny,
that a large party of the English at once took to their boats. After a
short voyage, finding the natives on the banks of the Ganges likely to
be troublesome, the fugitives resolved on separating themselves into two
parties; one, headed by Mr Probyn, the Company’s collector, and
consisting of about forty persons, sought refuge with a friendly
zemindar named Herden Buksh, living about twelve miles from Futteghur,
on the Oude side of the river; while the other party proceeded on the
voyage down the Ganges to Cawnpore. This last-named party amounted to
more than a hundred and twenty persons, nearly all non-combatants;
missionaries, merchants, indigo planters, estate stewards, agents,
collectors, clerks, shopkeepers, schoolmasters, post and dâk agents—such
were the male members of this hapless band of fugitives; most of them
had wives; and the children far exceeded the adults in number. It is
pitiable, knowing as we now know the fate that was in store for them, to
read such entries as the following, in a list of the occupants of the
boats—‘Mr and Mrs Elliott and five children;’ ‘Mr and Mrs Macklin and
eight children;’ ‘Mr and Mrs Palmer and nine children.’
So few persons survived from Futteghur, that it is not certain at what
places and on what days they separated into parties; nor how many lives
were lost on the way; but there is evidence that while some pursued
their way down the Ganges without much interruption until they reached
Bithoor, others went back to Futteghur. This retrograde movement was due
to two causes; for while, on the one hand, the officers trusted to a
report that the sepoys had returned to a sense of their duty; Herden
Buksh, on the other, was threatened by the Oude mutineers if he
harboured any of the English. We will follow the fortunes of this second
party. From about the 12th to the 18th of June there was a lull in the
station; but on the last-named day the 10th infantry broke out in
earnest, and being joined by the mutinous 41st from the other side of
the Ganges, seized the treasure and threatened the officers. There were
about a hundred Europeans now in the place; and as the river was at the
time too low to render a boat-voyage to Cawnpore safe, it was resolved
to defend a post or fort at Futteghur, and there remain till succour
arrived. Out of the hundred there were scarcely more than thirty
fighting-men, so numerous were the women and children; nevertheless,
Colonel Smith, of the 10th, organised the whole, and prepared for the
worst. He had a fair store both of ammunition and of food within the
fort. Until the 4th of July they maintained a manly struggle against the
mutineers, holding their fort until they could hold it no longer.
Colonel Tucker and one of the civil officers were shot in the head while
acting as artillerymen; General Goldie was slightly wounded, as was
likewise one of his daughters; and many other casualties occurred. The
besieged had great difficulty in making a covered-way to protect their
servants, to enable them to pass to and fro with the meals for the
ladies and children, who were collected in a room or godown overlooked
by a two-storied house held by the insurgents. Then commenced a voyage
full of miseries, in boats that contained all the Europeans still
remaining at that spot. First the rebels fired on the boats as they
rowed along; then one of the boats ran aground; then a boatful of rebels
approached, and the ladies in the stranded boat jumped overboard to
avoid capture. Death by bullets, death by drowning, took place every
hour; and the fugitives were thrown into such dire confusion that none
could help the rest. Some crept on shore, and wandered about the fields
to escape detection; others found shelter under friendly roofs; one
boat-load succeeded in prosecuting their voyage down to Cawnpore, or
rather Bithoor.
There were thus two sets of Futteghur fugitives; one that reached the
clutches of the Nena towards the middle of June; the other, much
smaller, that was spared that fate until the middle of July. So complete
was the destruction of both, however; so sweeping the death-stroke
hurled against them by Nena Sahib, that the details of their fate have
been but imperfectly recorded. Towards the close of June, Mr Court and
Colonel Neill, at Allahabad, received information touching the events at
Cawnpore from a native named Nerput, an opium _gomashta_ or agent at the
last-named city; he gave them or sent them a narrative written in
Persian, portions of which were afterwards translated and published
among the official papers. Nerput was one of the few who wrote
concerning the arrival of the first party of Futteghur fugitives at
Cawnpore. Under the date of June the 12th he said: ‘Report that
Europeans were coming in boats to relieve Cawnpore; and two companies
sent westward to make inquiries. They found that a hundred and
twenty-six men, women, and children, were in boats, sick.’ Another
narrative of the Futteghur calamity simply states, that when the unhappy
fugitives arrived at the part of the Ganges opposite Bithoor, Nena Sahib
‘stopped their boats, brought the fugitives on shore, and shot every
one. He then tied their bodies together, and threw them into the river.’
A native resident at Cawnpore, who was examined a few weeks afterwards
by Colonel Neill concerning his knowledge of the atrocities committed by
the rajah, and of the sufferings borne by the English, gave an account
of the Futteghur catastrophe corresponding nearly with those derived
from other quarters. He states that on the 12th of June, just as the
customary daily cannonading of the intrenchment was about to recommence,
a report came in that Europeans were approaching from the west.
Immediately a troop of cavalry and two companies of infantry were sent
to reconnoitre (probably to the vicinity of Bithoor). There were found
three boats, containing about a hundred and thirty men, women, and
children. ‘The troopers seized them all and took them to the Nena, who
ordered that they should all be killed; and sundry Rampoorie troopers of
the Mussulmans of the 2d Cavalry, whom the Nena kept with him for the
express purpose, killed them all. Among them was a young lady, the
daughter of some general. She addressed herself much to the Nena, and
said: “No king ever committed such oppression as you have, and in no
religion is there any order to kill women and children. I do not know
what has happened to you. Be well assured that by this slaughter the
English will not become less; whoever may remain will have an eye upon
you.” But the Nena paid no attention, and shewed her no mercy; he
ordered that she should be killed, and that they should fill her hands
with powder and kill her by the explosion.’
The fate of the second party of fugitives from Futteghur will be noticed
presently. We must return now to the unfortunate occupants of the
intrenchment at Cawnpore.
When three weeks of the month of June had transpired, the rebels, joined
by a number of ruffians who had crossed over the Ganges from Oude, made
a more determined effort than ever to capture the intrenchment; they had
made the subadar-major of the 1st N. I. a sort of general over them; and
he swore to vanquish the weakened garrison, or die in the attempt. They
brought large bales of cotton, which they rolled along the ground, and
approached in a crouching position under cover of these bales, firing
their muskets at intervals. About a hundred sepoys thus advanced within
a hundred and fifty yards of the intrenchment, backed up by a strong
body, who seemed bent on storming the position. In this, as in every
former attempt, they failed; their leader was struck down, nearly two
hundred were killed or wounded by a fire of grape-shot, and the rest
driven back to their former distance. At the very same time, contests
were maintained on all sides of the enclosure; for what with musketeers
in the unfinished barracks, guns and mortars in four different
directions, and rifle-pits approached under cover of zigzags, the rebels
maintained a tremendous fire upon the besieged. Wheeler’s guns, under a
gallant young officer, St George Ashe, were manned at all hours, loaded
and fired with great quickness and precision, and pointed in such
directions as might produce most mischief among the enemy. But the
contest was unequal in this as in most other particulars; one gun after
another was disabled by the more powerful artillery of the
insurgents—until the eight were reduced to six, then to four, three, and
at last two. As the forlorn garrison became weaker and weaker, so did
the heroic men redouble their exertions in defence. One day a shot from
the enemy blew up an ammunition-wagon within the intrenchment; and then
it became a question of terrible import how to prevent the other wagons
from being ignited. Lieutenant Delafosse, a young officer of the once
trusted but now disloyal 53d, ran forward, laid himself down under the
wagons, picked up and threw aside the burning fragments, and covered the
flaming portions with handfuls of earth—all the while subject to a
fearful cannonading from a battery of six guns, aimed purposely by the
enemy at that spot! Two soldiers ran to him, with two buckets of water;
and all three succeeded in rescuing the other ammunition-wagons from
peril, and in returning from the dangerous spot in safety.
Unspeakable must have been the misery of those nine hundred persons—or
rather, nine hundred wofully diminished by deaths—after twenty days of
this besieging. The hospitals were so thoroughly riddled with shot, and
so much injured by the fire, as to afford little or no shelter; and yet
the greater portion of the non-combatants remained in them rather than
be exposed to the scorching glare of the sun outside. Some made holes
for themselves behind the earthen parapet that bounded the intrenchment;
these holes were covered with boxes, cots, &c., and whole families of
wretched beings resided in them—more after the fashion of the Bushmen of
Africa, than of Christian civilised people. Apoplexy struck down many in
these fearfully heated abodes. At night, all the men had to mount guard
and keep watch in turn; and the women and children, to be near their
male protectors in the hour of trouble, slept near them behind the
parapet—or rather they tried to sleep; but the bomb-shells vomited forth
from three mortars employed by the enemy, kept the terrified people in
an agony that ‘murdered sleep;’ and thus the existence of the women and
children was spent in perpetual fear. The soldiers had their food
prepared by the few remaining cooks; but all the rest shifted for
themselves in the best way they could; and it was often difficult, for
those who received their scanty rations of rice and grain, to provide a
mouthful of cooked victuals for themselves and their children. Money
would hardly, one would suppose, be thought of at such a time and place;
yet it appears that the richer bought with money the services of the
poorer, at a rupee or two per meal, for cooking. The innumerable
troubles and distresses felt by all were deepened at the sight of the
sick and wounded, to whom it was now utterly impossible to render proper
assistance. The stench, too, from the dead bodies of horses and other
animals that had been shot in the enclosure and could not be removed,
added to the loathsomeness of the place. Oppressed as they were with
heat, the English nevertheless dreaded the setting in of the rains; for
one single day of Indian rain would have converted the earthen abodes of
the poor people into pools of water, deluged the shot-riddled buildings,
and rendered the muskets useless. Nothing can better denote the
extraordinary scene of ruin and devastation which the interior of the
intrenchment must have presented, than the descriptions given a few
weeks afterwards by English officers concerned in the recovery of
Cawnpore. Or rather, it would be more correct to say, that those
descriptions, by relating only to the intrenchment when deserted,
necessarily fell far short of the reality as presented when many
hundreds of suffering persons were residing there day after day. One
officer wrote: ‘We are encamped close to poor old Wheeler’s miserable
intrenchment. Of all the wonders which have passed before us since this
outbreak commenced, the most wonderful is that this ruinous intrenchment
should have held that horde of blood-thirsty ruffians off so long. This
is a strong statement; but none who have visited it can call it too
strong.’ Another said: ‘I have had a look at the barracks in which the
unfortunate people were intrenched. They consist of a couple of oblong
buildings; in one of them, the roof is completely fallen in; and both
are battered with round shot. The verandahs as well as the walls have
been torn up by the shot; and round the buildings are some pits dug in
the ground, and breastworks. The ground inside and out is strewed with
broken bottles, old shoes, and quantities of books and other documents
and letters. It was a melancholy sight; and the suffering must have been
more than humanity could bear.’ A third officer corroborated this
general description, but mentioned one or two additional particulars:
‘These buildings formed what was called the European Cavalry Hospital.
Right well and heroically must it have been defended. The walls are
riddled with cannon-shot like the cells of a honey-comb. The doors,
which seem to have been the principal points against which the Nena’s
fire was directed, are breached and knocked into large shapeless
openings. Of the verandahs, which surrounded both buildings, only a few
splintered rafters remain, and at some of the angles the walls are
knocked entirely away, and large chasms gape blackly at you. Many of the
enemy’s cannon-shot have gone through and through the buildings;
portions of the interior walls and roof have fallen; and here and there
are blood-stains on wall and floor. Never did I yet see a place so
terribly battered.’
As a sad story is often most touchingly told in the fewest words, we may
here advert to the contents of two scraps of paper, shewing how the
members of a family were cut off one by one during these days of misery.
When Cawnpore fell again into the hands of the British, by a train of
operations hereafter to be described, there were found among other
wrecks two small pieces of paper, covered with blood, and containing a
few words in pencil; they appeared to have been written by two persons,
both females. One gave a brief and confused narrative of some of the
events in the intrenchment; while the other consisted simply of a record
of the dates on which members of the writer’s family were struck down by
the hand of death.[18] The dates were irregular, and extended into July;
but every line told, in its simplicity, how agonising must have been the
position of one who had to record such things of those who were dear to
her. The contents of the two pieces of paper were printed in a Calcutta
journal; and when the mournful tale reached Scotland, it was at once
concluded, almost as a certainty, from the Christian names mentioned,
that the sufferers were all members of a family of Lindsays, who had
been stationed at Cawnpore. The writers of the two notes were themselves
numbered with the dead before the gloomy tragedy was ended.
All these evidences render only too plain to us the deplorable position
of the Europeans, after eighteen days of siege, and thirty-three of
enforced residence in the intrenchment. When duly considered, who can
wonder that the beleaguered garrison pondered on two possible
contingencies—a defeat of the rebels by a daring sally, or a release by
parley? If the officers could have known the treachery which was about
to be practised on them, they would probably have attempted the former;
but they could receive no intelligence or warning, and they did not like
to quit their wives and children at such a perilous time, in uncertainty
of their chances of success.
Their first knowledge of the state of affairs at Cawnpore was obtained
in an unexpected way. Among the commercial firms in the city was that of
Greenway Brothers, of which the members and the family had hastily left
Cawnpore at the beginning of the troubles, and taken refuge at
Nujjubgurh, a village about sixteen miles distant. They were discovered
by Nena Sahib, however, and only saved from death by promising a ransom
of a lac of rupees. Mrs Greenway, a very aged lady, the mother and
grandmother of a number of the sufferers, was sent by this treacherous
villain with a message to Sir Hugh Wheeler at the intrenchment, intended
to mask a nefarious and bloody scheme. The message was to this
effect—that the general and all his people should be allowed to proceed
to Allahabad unmolested, on condition that he abandoned Cawnpore, the
intrenchment, the public treasure, the guns, and the ammunition. This
message was delivered on the 24th of June; but whether in consequence of
Mr Shepherd’s adventure on that same day, presently to be mentioned,
does not clearly appear. On the next day an interview took place,
outside the intrenchment, between Sir Hugh and an agent of Nena named
Azimoollah (probably the same who had visited London two years before),
who was accompanied by a few of the leading mutineers. The terms were
agreed to, with a few modifications; and Nena Sahib gave his signature,
his seal, and his oath to a contract binding him to provide the
Europeans with boats and a safe escort to Allahabad.
Such was the account given by Mr Shepherd of a transaction narrated
somewhat differently by other persons; but before noticing certain
anomalies in this matter, it will be well to treat of an occurrence in
which that gentleman was unquestionably the best judge of the facts.
When the 24th of June arrived, Mr Shepherd adopted a course which led to
his own preservation, and enabled him to write his brief but mournful
narrative. The besieged civilians, not being under the command of Sir
Hugh Wheeler further than might be consistent with their own safety,
naturally thought with yearning hearts of their former abodes in the
city, and compared those abodes with the present deep misery and
privation. Wheeler would gladly have allowed them to return to Cawnpore;
but could they cross the intervening ground in safety, or would they
find safety in the city itself? To ascertain these points, was a project
adopted on the suggestion of Mr Shepherd, who—as a commissariat officer
in a place where scarcely any commissariat services could be
rendered—occupied a position somewhat midway between the military and
the civil. He had a large family within the intrenchment, comprising his
wife, daughter, brother, sister, three nieces, and two other relatives;
an infant daughter had been killed by a musket-shot a few days earlier.
Mr Shepherd’s mission was—to make his way to the city; to ascertain the
state of public affairs there; to enter into negotiations with
influential persons who were not friendly to the mutineers; and to spend
or promise a lac of rupees in any way that might bring about a cessation
of the siege. The arrangement made with Sir Hugh was, that if Mr
Shepherd succeeded in returning to the intrenchment with any useful
information, he should be allowed to go with his family to Cawnpore. He
started; but he never returned, and never again saw those hapless beings
whose welfare had occupied so much of his solicitude. He disguised
himself as a native cook, left the intrenchment, passed near the new
barracks, and ran on towards Cawnpore; but he was speedily descried and
captured, and carried before Nena Sahib. Two native women-servants had
shortly before escaped from the intrenchment to the city, and had
reported that the garrison was starving; the new captive, designedly,
gave a very different account; and as the Nena did not know which to
believe, he imprisoned all three. Mr Shepherd remained in prison,
suffering great hardships, from the 24th of June to the 17th of July, as
we shall presently see.
It is not easy to reconcile the various accounts of the convention
between the besiegers and the besieged, the Nena and the general.
According to Mr Shepherd, as we have just seen, the Nena sent a message
by Mrs Greenway on the 24th; and Sir Hugh had an interview with one of
Nena’s agents on the 25th. An ayah, or native nurse, however, who had
been in the service of Mrs Greenway, and who afterwards gave a narrative
in evidence before some English officers at Cawnpore, said that the
message was taken, not by Mrs Greenway, but by a Mrs Jacobi. She
proceeded to aver that Nena Sahib himself went to the intrenchment; and
then she gave a curious account of the interview, which, to say the
least of it, is quite consistent with the relative characters and
positions of the two leaders. According to her narrative: ‘The Nena
said: “Take away all the women and children to Allahabad; and if your
men want to fight, come back and do so: we will keep faith with you.”
General Wheeler said: “You take your solemn oath, according to your
custom; and I will take an oath on my Bible, and will leave the
intrenchment.” The Nena said: “Our oath is, that whoever we take by the
hand, and he relies on us, we never deceive; if we do, God will judge
and punish us.” The general said: “If you intend to deceive me, kill me
at once: I have no arms.” The Nena replied: “I will not deceive you;
rely on us. I will supply you with food, and convey you to Allahabad.”
On this the general went inside the intrenchment, and consulted with the
soldiers. They said: “There’s no reliance to be placed on natives; they
will deceive you.” A few said: “Trust them; it is better to do so.” On
this the general returned, and said: “I agree to your terms; see us away
as far as Futtehpoor, thence we can get easily to Allahabad.” The reply
was: “No; I will see you all safe to Allahabad.”’
That Sir Hugh Wheeler was mortally wounded before his unfortunate
companions left the intrenchment under a solemn pledge of safety, seems
to be generally admitted, but the date of his death is not clearly
known; nor do the narrators agree as to the names of the persons by whom
the convention was signed. But on the main point all evidence
coincides—that a safe retirement to Allahabad was guaranteed. How
villainously that guarantee was disregarded, we shall now see.
It was on the 27th of June that those who remained of the nine hundred
took their departure from the intrenchment where they had borne so many
miseries. Collateral facts lead to a conjecture that the sepoys,
belonging to the native regiments that had mutinied, had become wearied
with their three-weeks’ detention outside the intrenchment, and wished
to start off to a scene of more stirring incidents at Delhi. This would
not have suited the Nena’s views; he wanted their aid to grasp the
remainder of the Company’s treasure and ammunition at Cawnpore; and
hence he formed the plan for getting rid of the Europeans and obtaining
their wealth without any more fighting. Cannonading ceased on both sides
from the evening of the 24th; and from thence to the 27th all was done
that could be done to fit out the boat-expedition. But under what
miserable circumstances was this done! The unburied bodies of relations
and friends lay at the bottom of a well; the sick and wounded were more
fit to die than to be removed; the women and children had become haggard
and weak by almost every kind of suffering; the clothes of all had
become rent and blood-stained by many a terrible exigency; and
misgivings occupied the thoughts of those who remembered that the same
Nena Sahib, at whose mercy they were now placed, was the man who had
proved a traitor three weeks before. Twenty boats were provided, each
with an awning. The English were forced to give up the three or four
lacs of rupees which had been brought to the intrenchment. Early on the
morning of the 27th, the Nena sent a number of elephants, carts, and
doolies, to convey the women, children, sick, and wounded, to the
river-side, a distance of about a mile and a half: the hale men
proceeding on foot—if hale they can be called, who were worn down with
hunger, thirst, fatigue, heat, grief for the dear ones who had fallen,
anxiety for those who still lived to be succoured and protected. If Mr
Shepherd is right in his statement that the number who took their
departure in this mournful procession from the intrenchment was four
hundred and fifty, then one half of the original number of nine hundred
must have fallen victims to three weeks of privation and suffering.
Those who first reached the river took boat, and proceeded down-stream;
but the later comers were long detained; and while they were still
embarking, or preparing to embark, they were startled by the report of a
masked battery of three guns. The dreadful truth now became evident; the
execrable rebel-chief, in disregard of all oaths and treaties, had given
orders for the slaughter of the hapless Europeans. Some of the boats
were set on fire, and volley upon volley of musketry fired at the
unfortunates—scores of whom were shot dead, others picked off while
endeavouring to swim away. A few boats were hastily rowed across the
river; but there a body of the 17th N. I., just arrived from Azimghur,
intercepted all escape. The ruffians on both banks waded into the water,
seized the boats within reach, and sabred all the men yet remaining
alive in them. The women were spared for a worse fate; though many of
them wounded, some with two or three bullets each, these poor creatures,
with the children, were taken ashore, and placed in a building called
the Subadar Kothee, in Nena Sahib’s camp.
The fortunes of two separate boat-parties must be traced. Lieutenant
Delafosse, whose name has already been mentioned in connection with a
gallant achievement in the intrenchment, has placed upon record the
story of one boat’s adventure, shewing how it happened that he was among
the very few who escaped the Cawnpore tragedy. After stating that nearly
all the boats which attempted to descend the Ganges were either stopped
one by one, or the persons in them shot down where they sat, he proceeds
thus: ‘We had now one boat, crowded with wounded, and having on board
more than she could carry. Two guns followed us the whole of that day,
the infantry firing on us the whole of that night. On the second day,
28th June, a gun was seen on the Cawnpore side, which opened on us at
Nujjubgurh, the infantry still following us on both sides. On the
morning of the third day, the boat was no longer serviceable; we were
aground on a sand-bank, and had not strength sufficient to move her.
Directly any of us got into the water, we were fired upon by thirty or
forty men at a time. There was nothing left for us but to charge and
drive them away; and fourteen of us were told off to do what we could.
Directly we got on shore the insurgents retired; but, having followed
them up too far, we were cut off from the river, and had to retire
ourselves, as we were being surrounded. We could not make for the river;
we had to go down parallel, and came to the river again a mile lower
down, where we saw a large force of men right in front waiting for us,
and another lot on the opposite bank, should we attempt to cross the
river. On the bank of the river, just by the force in front, was a
temple. We fired a volley, and made for the temple, in which we took
shelter, having one man killed and one wounded. From the door of the
temple we fired on every insurgent that happened to shew himself.
Finding that they could do nothing against us whilst we remained inside,
they heaped wood all round and set it on fire. When we could no longer
remain inside on account of the smoke and heat, we threw off what
clothes we had, and, each taking a musket, charged through the fire.
Seven of us out of the twelve got into the water; but before we had gone
far, two poor fellows were shot. There were only five of us left now;
and we had to swim whilst the insurgents followed us along both banks,
wading and firing as fast as they could. After we had gone three miles
down the stream [probably swimming and wading by turns], one of our
party, an artilleryman, to rest himself, began swimming on his back, and
not knowing in what direction he was swimming, got on shore, and was
killed. When we had got down about six miles, firing from both sides [of
the river] ceased; and soon after we were hailed by some natives, on the
Oude side, who asked us to come on shore, and said they would take us to
their rajah, who was friendly to the English.’ This proved to be the
case; for Lieutenant Delafosse, Lieutenant Mowbray Thomson, and one or
two companions, remained in security and comparative comfort throughout
the month of July, until an opportunity occurred for joining an English
force.
Although the boat-adventure just narrated was full of painful
excitement, ending in the death of nearly all the persons by shooting or
drowning—yet there is one still to be noticed more saddening in its
character, for the sufferers were reserved for a worse death. The name
of Sir Hugh Wheeler is connected with this adventure in a way not easily
to be accounted for; Mr Shepherd and Lieutenant Delafosse were not
witnesses of it, and no reliable personal narrative is obtainable from
any one who was actually present when it occurred. The probability is,
that Sir Hugh, although wounded in the intrenchment, did not die until
the boat-expedition had commenced, and that the same boat contained his
daughter and his (living or dead) body. At anyrate, this was the last
the world could hear of a brave old soldier, who went to India
fifty-four years before; who fought with Lord Lake before Delhi in 1804;
who took an active part in the Punjaub war; and who had been military
commander of the Cawnpore district from 1850 to 1857. It was also the
last to be heard of Brigadier Jack, who commanded the Cawnpore
cantonment; and of many brave English officers, from colonels down to
ensigns, of both the English and the native regiments.
Whether the general was alive or dead, and by whomsoever accompanied, it
appears certain that a large party rowed many miles down the Ganges. One
account states that Baboo Rambuksh, a zemindar of Dowreea Kheyra near
Futtehpoor, stopped the boats, captured the persons who were in them,
and sent them in carts as prisoners back to Cawnpore. The names of Mr
Reid, Mr Thomas Greenway, Mr Kirkpatrick, Mr Mackenzie, Captain
Mackenzie, and Dr Harris, were mentioned in connection with this band of
unfortunates; but accuracy in this particular is not to be insured. The
narrative given by Nujoor Jewarree, the native afterwards examined by
English officers at Cawnpore, was different in many points, and much
more detailed. He stated that the boat in question, after proceeding
some distance, got upon a sand-bank, where there was a severe encounter;
the sepoys not only ran along the shore, but followed in boats shooting
at the victims as soon as they got within musket-range, and receiving
many fatal shots in return. A freshet in the river released the boat,
and the voyage recommenced. Meanwhile, the probable escape of this party
being reported to Nena Sahib, he ordered three companies of the 3d Oude
infantry to pursue the boat, and effect a complete capture. The boat was
soon after taken, and all the occupants seized as prisoners. ‘There came
out of that boat,’ said Nujoor Jewarree, ‘sixty sahibs (gentlemen),
twenty-five memsahibs (ladies), and four children—one boy and three
half-grown girls.’ His story then proceeded to details which, if
correct, shew that Sir Hugh Wheeler was in the boat, and still alive;
for a contest ensued between Nena and some of the soldiers whether or
not the old general should be put to death: many of the sepoys wishing
to preserve his life.
It will become apparent to the reader, from the nature of the above
details, that the true story of the boat-catastrophe at Cawnpore will
probably never be fully told. All that we positively know is, that one
portion of the wretched victims met their death in the river, by
muskets, swords, and drowning; and that two other portions were carried
back to a captivity worse even than that of the intrenchment.
The proceedings of Nena Sahib, after the iniquitous treachery of the
27th of June, bore evident relation to his own advancement as an
independent chieftain. At sunset on that day he held a review of all the
rebel troops around Cawnpore on a plain between the now deserted
intrenchment and the Ganges. They appear to have consisted of five
regiments of Bengal native infantry, two of Oude native infantry, one of
Bengal cavalry, two of Oude cavalry, two of irregular cavalry, a battery
of field-guns, besides sundry detachments of regiments, and marauders
who became temporary soldiers in the hope of sharing pillage. Guns were
fired in honour of the Nena as sovereign, of his brother as
governor-general, and of an ambitious Brahmin as commander-in-chief, of
the newly restored Mahratta kingdom. From day to day more troops joined
his standard, after mutinying at various stations on all sides of
Cawnpore. Twenty thousand armed men are said to have been in that city
by the 10th of July; and as the Nena was very slow in awarding to them
any of his ill-gotten wealth, they recompensed themselves by plundering
the inhabitants, under pretext of searching for concealed Europeans.
Cawnpore was thus plunged into great misery, and speedily had cause to
lament the absence of its former masters. Nena created new offices, for
bestowal upon those who had served him; and he ordered the neighbouring
zemindars to pay to him the revenue that had wont to be paid to the
Company. He caused to be proclaimed by beat of tom-tom, throughout
Cawnpore and the surrounding district, that he had entirely conquered
the British; and that, their period of reign in India having been
completed, he was preparing to drive them out foot by foot. During this
heyday of self-assumed power, he issued many remarkable proclamations,
worthy of note as indications of his ambitious views, of his hopes as
dependent on the mass of the native people, and of the stigma which he
sought to throw on the British government. Some of these proclamations
are given in full at the end of the present chapter. There are many
facts which lend support to the supposition that this grasp at power and
wealth was suggested to him by the gradual development of events. He
probably entertained crafty designs and suppressed vindictiveness from
the outset; but these did not shew themselves openly until the native
troops at the cantonment had rebelled. Seeing a door opened by others,
which might possibly lead him to power and to vengeance, he seized the
occasion and entered.
The last acts of the Cawnpore tragedy now await our attention.
What horrors the poor women suffered during their eighteen days of
captivity under this detestable miscreant, none will ever fully know;
partial glimpses only of the truth will ever come to light. According to
the ayah’s narrative, already noticed, the women and children who were
conveyed from the boats into captivity were a hundred and fifteen in
number. The poor creatures (the women and elder girls) were sought to be
tempted by an emissary of the Nena to enter quietly into his harem; but
they one and all expressed a determination to die where they were, and
with each other, rather than yield to dishonour. They were then destined
to be given up to the sensual licence of the sepoys and sowars who had
aided in their capture; but the heroic conduct of Sir Hugh Wheeler’s
daughter is said to have deterred the ruffians. What this ‘Judith of
Cawnpore’ really did, is differently reported. Her heroism was
manifested, in one version of the story, by an undaunted and indignant
reproach against the native troops for their treachery to the English
who had fed and clothed them, and for their cowardice in molesting
defenceless women; in another version, she shot down five sepoys in
succession with a revolver, and then threw herself into a well to escape
outrage; in a third, given by Mr Shepherd, this English lady, being
taken away by a trooper of the 2d native cavalry to his own hut, rose in
the night, secured the trooper’s sword, killed him and three other men,
and then threw herself into a well; while a fourth version, on the
authority of the ayah, represents the general’s daughter as cutting off
the heads of no less than five men in the trooper’s hut. These accounts,
incompatible one with another, nevertheless reveal to us a true
soldier’s daughter, an English gentlewoman, resolved to proceed to any
extremity in defence of her own purity.
The victims were detained three days at Nena’s camp, with only a little
parched grain to eat, dirty water to drink, and the hard ground to lie
upon, without matting or beds of any kind. The ayah states that the
Nena, after the events of the 27th of June, sent to ask the temporarily
successful King of Delhi what he should do with the women and children;
to which a reply was received, that they were not to be killed. Whether
this statement be right or wrong, the captives were taken from the camp
to Cawnpore, and there incarcerated in a house near the Assembly Rooms,
consisting of outbuildings of the medical depôt, shortly before occupied
by Sir George Parker. Here they were joined by more than thirty other
European women and children, the unhappy relics of the boat-expedition
that had been recaptured near Futtehpoor in the vain attempt to escape.
Without venturing to decide whether the ayah, Nujoor Jewarree, Mr
Shepherd, or Lieutenant Delafosse was most nearly correct in regard of
numbers; or whether Sir Hugh Wheeler was at that time alive or dead—it
appears tolerably certain that many unhappy prisoners were brought back
into Cawnpore on the 1st of July. All the men were butchered in cold
blood on the evening of the same day. One officer’s wife, with her
child, clung to her husband with such desperate tenacity that they could
not be separated; and all three were killed at once. The other women
were spared for the time. This new influx, together with five members of
the Greenway family, swelled the roll of prisoners in the small building
to a number that has been variously estimated from a hundred and fifty
to two hundred, nearly all women and children. Their diet was miserably
insufficient; and their sufferings were such that many died through want
of the necessaries of life. ‘It is not easy to describe,’ says Mr
Shepherd, ‘but it may be imagined, the misery of so many helpless
persons: some wounded, others sick, and all labouring under the greatest
agony of heart for the loss of those, so dear to them, who had so
recently been killed (perhaps before their own eyes); cooped up night
and day in a small low pukha-roofed house, in the hottest season of the
year, without beds or punkahs, for a whole fortnight—and constantly
reviled and insulted by a set of brutish ruffians keeping watch over
them.’
Added to all these suffering women and children, were those belonging to
the second boat-expedition from Futteghur. It will be remembered, from
the details given in a former page, that one party from this fort
reached Bithoor about the middle of June, and were at once murdered by
orders of Nena Sahib; while another body, after a manly struggle against
the rebels for two or three weeks, did not prosecute their voyage
downwards until July. It will throw light on the perils and terrors of
these several boat-adventures to transcribe a few sentences from an
official account by Mr G. J. Jones, a civil servant of the Company, who
left Futteghur with the rest on the 4th of July, but happily kept clear
of the particular boat-load which went down to Cawnpore: ‘We had not
proceeded far, when it was found that Colonel Goldie’s boat was much too
large and heavy for us to manage; it was accordingly determined to be
abandoned; so all the ladies and children were taken into Colonel
Smith’s boat. A little delay was thus caused, which the sepoys took
advantage of to bring a gun to bear on the boats; the distance, however,
was too great; every ball fell short. As soon as the ladies and children
were all safely on board, we started, and got down as far as
Singheerampore without accident, although fired upon by the villagers.
Here we stopped a few minutes to repair the rudder of Colonel Smith’s
boat; and one out of the two boatmen we had was killed by a matchlock
ball. The rudder repaired, we started again, Colonel Smith’s boat taking
the lead; we had not gone beyond a few yards, when our boat grounded on
a soft muddy sand-bank; the other boat passed on; all hands got into the
water to push her; but, notwithstanding all our efforts, we could not
manage to move her. We had not been in this unhappy position half an
hour, when two boats, apparently empty, were seen coming down the
stream. They came within twenty yards of us, when we discovered they
carried sepoys, who opened a heavy fire, killing and wounding several.
Mr Churcher, senior, was shot through the chest; Mr Fisher, who was just
behind me, was wounded in the thigh. Hearing him call out, I had
scarcely time to turn round, when I felt a smart blow on my right
shoulder; a bullet had grazed the skin and taken off a little of the
flesh. Major Robertson was wounded in the face. The boats were now
alongside of us. Some of the sepoys had already got into our boat. Major
Robertson, seeing no hope, begged the ladies to come into the water
rather than fall into their hands. While the ladies were throwing
themselves into the water, I jumped into the boat, took up a loaded
musket, and, going astern, shot a sepoy.... Mr and Mrs Fisher were about
twenty yards from the boat; he had his child in his arms, apparently
lifeless. Mrs Fisher could not stand against the current; her dress,
which acted like a sail, knocked her down, when she was helped up by Mr
Fisher.... Early the next morning a voice hailed us from the shore,
which we recognised as Mr Fisher’s. He came on board, and informed us
that his poor wife and child had been drowned in his arms.’
The occupants of the boat that prosecuted the voyage down to Cawnpore,
or rather Bithoor, suffered greatly: the hands of the gentlemen who were
on board, and who pulled the boat, were terribly blistered; the women
and children suffered sad hardships; and all were worn down by fatigue
and anxiety. At Bithoor, so far as the accounts are intelligible, Nena
Sahib’s son seized the boat, and sent all the unfortunate Europeans in
her into confinement at Cawnpore. As in other parts of this mournful
tragedy, it will be vain to attempt accuracy in the statement of the
numbers of those that suffered; but there is a subsidiary source of
information, possessing a good deal of interest in connection with the
July occurrences. When, at a later date, the reconquerors of Cawnpore
were in a position to attempt a solution of the terrible mystery; when
the buildings of Cawnpore were searched, and the inhabitants examined,
for any documents relating to the suffering Europeans—a paper was found,
written in the Mahratta language, in the house of a native doctor who
had been in charge of the prisoners, or some of them. It was, or
professed to be, a list of those who were placed under his care on
Tuesday the 7th of July; but whether invalids only, does not clearly
appear. All the names were given, with some inaccuracy in spelling;
which, however, cannot be considered as rendering the document
untrustworthy. In it were to be found large families of Greenways,
Reids, Jacobis, Fitzgeralds, Dempsters, and others known to have been in
Cawnpore about that time. They were a hundred and sixty-three in number.
To this hapless group was added another list, containing the names of
forty-seven fugitives belonging to the _second_ boat-party from
Futteghur, who are reported as having arrived on the 11th of July, and
who included many members of the families of the Goldies, Smiths,
Tuckers, Heathcotes, &c., already named in connection with the Futteghur
calamities. The Mahratta document gave altogether the names of two
hundred and ten persons; but it was silent on the question how many
other Europeans were on those days in the clutches of the ruthless
chieftain of Bithoor. A further list contained the names of about
twenty-six persons, apparently all women and children, who died under
this native doctor’s hands between the 7th and the 15th, diminishing to
that extent the number of those left for massacre. To most of the names
‘cholera,’ or ‘diarrhœa,’ or ‘dysentery’ was appended, as the cause of
death; to two names, ‘wounds;’ while one of the patients was ‘a baby two
days old.’ In what a place, and under what circumstances, for an infant
to be born, and to bear its two wretched days of life!
[Illustration:
House at Cawnpore in which the women and children were massacred.
]
Let us follow Mr Shepherd’s two narratives—one public, for government
information; one in a letter, relating more especially to his own
personal troubles and sufferings—concerning the crowning iniquity of
Nena Sahib at Cawnpore.
After his capture, on attempting to hasten from the intrenchment to the
city, the commissary was subjected to a sort of mock-trial, and
condemned to three years’ imprisonment with hard labour; on what plea or
evidence, is not stated. He implies that if he had been known as an
Englishman, he would certainly have been put to death. On the third day
after his capture he heard a rumour of certain movements among his
unfortunate compatriots in the intrenchment. ‘Oh! how I felt,’ he
exclaims, ‘when, in confinement, I heard that the English were going in
safety! I could not keep my secret, but told the subadar of the
prison-guard that I was a Christian; I nearly lost my life by this
exposure.’ Mr Shepherd was confined for twenty-four days in a miserable
prison, with heavy fetters on his legs, and only so much parched grain
for food as would prevent actual starvation. As days wore on, he
obtained dismal evidence that the departure from the intrenchment had
not been safely effected; that coward treachery had been displayed by
the Nena; that innocent lives had been taken; and that the survivors
were held in horrible thraldom by that cruel man. The commissary was a
prisoner within the city during all the later days of the tragedy;
whether he was within earshot of the sufferers, is not stated; but the
following contains portions of his narrative relating to that period:
‘Certain spies, whether real or imaginary is not known, were brought to
the Nena as being the bearers of letters supposed to have been written
to the British [at Allahabad] by the helpless females in their
captivity; and with these letters some of the inhabitants of the city
were believed to be implicated. It was therefore decreed by Nena Sahib
that the spies, together with all the women and children, as also the
few gentlemen whose lives had been spared, should be put to death.’ Mr
Shepherd connected these gentlemen with the Futteghur fugitives,
concerning whom, however, he possessed very little information. It was a
further portion of Nena’s decree, that all the baboos (Bengalees
employed as clerks) of the city, and every individual who could read or
write English, should have their right hands and noses cut off. At
length, on the 15th, just before quitting Cawnpore in the vain hope of
checking the advance of a British column, this savage put his decrees
into execution. ‘The native spies were first put to the sword; after
them the gentlemen, who were brought from the outbuildings in which they
had been confined, and shot with bullets. Then the poor females were
ordered to come out; but neither threats nor persuasions could induce
them to do so. They laid hold of each other by dozens, and clung so
closely that it was impossible to separate or drag them out of the
building. The troopers therefore brought muskets, and after firing a
great many shots through the doors, windows, &c., rushed in with swords
and bayonets. Some of the helpless creatures in their agony fell down at
the feet of their murderers, and begged them in the most pitiful manner
to spare their lives; but to no purpose. The fearful deed was done
deliberately and determinedly, in the midst of the most dreadful shrieks
and cries of the victims. From a little before sunset till dark was
occupied in completing the dreadful deed. The doors of the buildings
were then locked for the night, and the murderers went to their homes.
Next morning it was found, on opening the doors, that some ten or
fifteen females, with a few of the children, had managed to escape from
death by hiding under the murdered bodies of their fellow-prisoners. A
fresh command was thereupon sent to murder these also; but the survivors
not being able to bear the idea of being cut down, rushed out into the
compound, and seeing a well there, threw themselves into it. The dead
bodies of those murdered on the previous evening were then ordered to be
thrown into the same well; and julluds were appointed to drag them away
like dogs.’
Mr Shepherd himself did not witness this slaughter; no looker-on, so far
as is known, has placed upon record his or her account of the scene. Nor
does there appear any trustworthy evidence to shew what the poor women
endured in the period, varying from four to eighteen days, during which
they were in the Nena’s power; but the probability is fearfully great
that they passed through an ordeal which the mind almost shrinks from
contemplating. Mr Shepherd was evidently of this opinion. While telling
his tale of misery relating to those poor ill-used creatures, he hinted
at ‘sufferings and distresses such as have never before been experienced
or heard of on the face of the earth.’ It was in his agony of grief that
he wrote this; when, on the 17th of July, a victorious English column
entered Cawnpore; and when, immediately on his liberation, he hastened
like others to the house of slaughter. Only when the manacles had been
struck from his limbs, and he had become once more a free man, did he
learn the full bitterness of his lot. ‘God Almighty has been graciously
pleased to spare my poor life,’ was the beginning of a letter written by
him on that day to a brother stationed at Agra. ‘I am the only
individual saved among all the European and Christian community that
inhabited this station.’ [Nearly but not exactly true.] ‘My poor dear
wife, my darling sweet child Polly, poor dear Rebecca and her children,
and poor innocent children Emmeline and Martha, as also Mrs Frost and
poor Mrs Osborne’ [these being the members of his family whom he had
left in the intrenchment on the 24th of June, when he set out disguised
on his fruitless mission], ‘were all most inhumanly butchered by the
cruel insurgents on the day before yesterday;’ and his letter then
conveyed the outpourings of a heart almost riven by such irreparable
losses.
While reserving for a future chapter all notice of the brilliant
military movements by which a small band of heroes forced a way inch by
inch from Allahabad to Cawnpore; and of the struggle made by the Nena,
passionately but ineffectually, to maintain his ill-gotten honours as a
self-elected Mahratta sovereign—it may nevertheless be well in this
place to follow the story of the massacre to its close—to know how much
was left, and of what kind, calculated to render still more vividly
evident the fate of the victims.
Never, while life endures, will the English officers and soldiers forget
the sight which met their gaze when they entered Cawnpore on the 17th of
July. It was frequently observed that all were alike deeply moved by the
atrocities that came to light in many parts of Northern India. Calcutta,
weeks and even months afterwards, contained ladies who had escaped from
various towns and stations, and who entered the Anglo-Indian capital in
most deplorable condition: ears, noses, lips, tongues, hands, cut off;
while others had suffered such monstrous and incredibly degrading
barbarities, that they resolutely refused all identification, preferring
to remain in nameless obscurity, rather than their humiliation should be
known to their friends in England. Their children, in many instances,
had their eyes gouged out, and their feet cut off. Many were taken to
Calcutta in such hurry and confusion, that it remained long in doubt
from what places they had escaped; and an instance is recorded of a
little child, who belonged no one knew to whom, and whose only account
of herself was that she was ‘Mamma’s pet:’ mournfully touching words,
telling of a gentle rearing and a once happy home. An officer in command
of one of the English regiments, speaking of the effect produced on his
men by the sights and rumours of fiend-like cruelty, observed: ‘Very
little is said among the men or officers, the subject being too
maddening; but there is a curious expression discernible in every face
when it is mentioned—a stern compression of the lips, and a fierce
glance of the eye, which shew that when the time comes, no mercy will be
shewn to those who have shewn none.’ He told of fearful deeds; of two
little children tortured to death, and portions of their quivering flesh
forced down the throats of their parents, who were tied up naked, and
had been compelled to witness the slaughter of their innocent ones. The
feelings of those who were not actually present at the scenes of horror
are well expressed in a letter written by a Scottish officer, who was
hemmed in at Agra during many weeks, when he longed to be engaged in
active service chastising the rebels. He had, some months before, been
an officer in one of the native regiments that mutinied at Cawnpore;
and, in relation to the events at that place, he said: ‘I am truly
thankful that most of the officers of my late corps died of fever in the
intrenchment, previous to the awful massacre. Would that it had been the
will of Heaven that all had met the same fate, fearful as that was. For
weeks exposed to a scorching sun, without shelter of any kind, and
surrounded by the dying and the dead, their ears ringing with the groans
of the wounded, the shouts of sun-struck madmen, the plaintive cries of
children, the bitter sobs and sighs of bereaved mothers, widows, and
orphans. Even such a death was far better than what fell to the lot of
many. Not even allowed to die without being made witnesses of the bloody
deaths of all they loved on earth, they were insulted, abused, and
finally, after weeks of such treatment, cruelly and foully murdered. One
sickens, and shudders at the bare mention of it.... Oh! how thankful I
am that I have no wife, no sisters out here.’ It was a terrible crisis
that could lead officers, eight or ten thousand miles away from those
near and dear to them, to say this.
It is necessary, as a matter of historical truth, to describe briefly
the condition of the house of slaughter on the 17th of July; and this
cannot be better done than in the words employed by the officers and
soldiers in various letters written by them, afterwards made public. The
first that we shall select runs thus: ‘I have seen the fearful
slaughter-house; and I also saw one of the 1st native infantry men,
according to order, wash up part of the blood which stains the floor,
before being hanged.’ [This order will presently be noticed in the words
of Brigadier Neill.] ‘There were quantities of dresses, clogged thickly
with blood; children’s frocks, frills, and ladies’ underclothing of all
kinds; boys’ trousers; leaves of Bibles, and of one book in particular,
which seems to be strewed over the whole place, called _Preparation for
Death_; broken daguerreotypes; hair, some nearly a yard long; bonnets,
all bloody; and one or two shoes. I picked up a bit of paper with the
words on it, “Ned’s hair, with love;” and opened and found a little bit
tied up with ribbon. The first [troops] that went in, I believe, saw the
bodies with their arms and legs sticking out through the ground. They
had all been thrown in a heap in the well.’ A second letter: ‘The house
was alongside the Cawnpore hotel, where the Nena lived. I never was more
horrified. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that the soles of my
boots were more than covered with the blood of these poor wretched
creatures. Portions of their dresses, collars, children’s socks, and
ladies’ round hats, lay about, saturated with their blood; and in the
sword-cuts on the wooden pillars of the room, long dark hair was
sticking, carried by the edge of the weapon, and there hung their
tresses—a most painful sight. I picked up a mutilated Prayer-book; it
appeared to have been open at page 36 of the Litany, where I have little
doubt those poor creatures sought and found consolation in that
beautiful supplication; it is there sprinkled with blood.’ A third: ‘We
found that the Nena had murdered all the women and children that he had
taken prisoners, and thrown them naked down a well. The women and
children had been kept in a sort of zenana, and no attention whatever
paid to cleanliness. In that place they had been butchered, as the
ground was covered with clotted blood. One poor woman had evidently been
working, as a small work-box was open, and the things scattered about.
There were several children’s small round hats, evidently shewing that
that was their prison. The well close by was one of the most awful
sights imaginable.’ A fourth: ‘It is an actual and literal fact, that
the floor of the inner room was several inches deep in blood all over;
it came over men’s shoes as they stepped. Tresses of women’s hair,
children’s shoes, and articles of female wear, broad hats and bonnets,
books, and such like things, lay scattered all about the rooms. There
were the marks of bullets and sword-cuts on the walls—not high up, as if
men had fought—but low down, and about the corners where the poor
crouching creatures had been cut to pieces. The bodies of the victims
had been thrown indiscriminately into a well—a mangled heap, with arms
and legs protruding.’ Some of the officers, by carefully examining the
walls, found scraps of writing in pencil, or scratched in the plaster,
such as, ‘Think of us’—‘Avenge us’—‘Your wives and families are here in
misery and at the disposal of savages’—‘Oh, oh! my child, my child.’ One
letter told of a row of women’s shoes, _with bleeding amputated feet in
them_, ranged in cruel mockery on one side of a room; while the other
side exhibited a row of children’s shoes, filled in a similarly terrible
way; but it is not certain whether the place referred to was Cawnpore.
Another writer mentioned an incident which, unless supported by
collateral testimony, seems wanting in probability. It was to the effect
that when the 78th Highlanders entered Cawnpore, they found the remains
of Sir Hugh Wheeler’s daughter. They removed the hair carefully from the
head; sent some of it to the relations of the unfortunate lady; divided
the rest amongst themselves; counted every single hair in each parcel;
and swore to take a terrible revenge by putting to death as many
mutineers as there were hairs. The storm of indignant feeling that might
suggest such a vow can be understood easily enough; but the alleged mode
of manifestation savours somewhat of the melodramatic and improbable.
A slight allusion has been made above to Brigadier Neill’s proceedings
at Cawnpore, after the fatal 17th of July. In what relation he stood to
the reconquering force will be noticed in its due place; but it may be
well here to quote a passage from a private letter, written
independently of his public dispatches: ‘I am collecting all the
property of the deceased, and trying to trace if any have survived; but
as yet have not succeeded in finding one.’ [Captain Bruce’s research,
presently to be mentioned, had not then been made.] ‘Man, woman, and
child, seem all to have been murdered. As soon as that monster Nena
Sahib heard of the success of our troops, and of their having forced the
bridge about twenty miles from Cawnpore, he ordered the wholesale
butchery of the poor women and children. I find the officers’ servants
behaved shamefully, and were in the plot, all but the lowest-caste ones.
They deserted their masters and plundered them. Whenever a rebel is
caught, he is immediately tried, and unless he can prove a defence, he
is sentenced to be hanged at once; but the chief rebels or ringleaders I
make first clean up a certain portion of the pool of blood, still two
inches deep, in the shed where the fearful murder and mutilation of
women and children took place. To touch blood is most abhorrent to the
high-caste natives; they think by doing so they doom their souls to
perdition. Let them think so. My object is to inflict a fearful
punishment for a revolting, cowardly, barbarous deed, and to strike
terror into these rebels.... The well of mutilated bodies—alas!
containing upwards of two hundred women and children—I have had decently
covered in and built up as one grave.’
With one additional testimony, we will close this scene of gloomy
horror. The Earl of Shaftesbury, as was noticed in a former page, took
occasion soon after the news of the Cawnpore atrocities reached London,
to advert at a public meeting to the shrinking abhorrence with which
those deeds were regarded, and to the failure of the journalists to
present the full and fearful truth. He himself mentioned an incident,
not as an example of the worst that had been done by the incarnate
fiends at Cawnpore, but to indicate how much remains to be told if pen
dare write or tongue utter it: ‘I have seen a copy of a letter written
and sent to England by an officer of rank who was one of the first that
entered Cawnpore a few hours after the perpetration of the frightful
massacre.... To his unutterable dismay, he saw a number of European
women stripped stark naked, lying on their backs, fastened by the arms
and legs; and there many of them had been lying four or five days
exposed to a burning sun; others had been more recently laid down;
others again had been actually hacked to pieces, and so recently, that
the blood which streamed from their mangled bodies was still warm. He
found children of ten, twelve, thirteen, and fourteen years of age
treated in the same horrible manner at the corners of the streets and in
all parts of the town: attended by every circumstance of insult, the
most awful and the most degrading, the most horrible and frightful to
the conception, and the most revolting to the dignity and feelings of
civilised men. Cawnpore was only a sample of what was perpetrated in
various parts of that vast region, and that with a refinement of cruelty
never before heard of. Women and children have been massacred before;
but I don’t believe there is any instance on record where children have
been reserved in cold blood to be most cruelly and anatomically tortured
in the presence of their horrified parents before being finally put to
death.’
Something must be said here concerning the devastated property at
Cawnpore, in relation to the miserable beings to whom it had once
belonged. When the city was again in British hands, and the Rajah of
Bithoor driven out with the curses of all English hearts resting on him,
it was found to be in such a devastated state, so far as regarded
Europeans, that Brigadier Neill was at a loss what to do with the wrecks
of spoliated property. He requested Captain Bruce, of the 5th Punjaub
cavalry, whom he had appointed temporarily superintendent of police, to
write to the Calcutta newspapers, inviting the aid of any one able to
identify the property. The letter said: ‘The property of the unfortunate
people who lost their lives here has been collected in one spot; and any
which can be recognised will be handed over to the owners, or put up to
auction for the benefit of the estates of the deceased. There is a good
deal of property belonging to the different mercantile firms here, as
well as to the heirs of deceased officers, &c.; but when I mention that
every house was gutted, and the property scattered over sixty or seventy
square miles of country, it will be apparent how impossible it was to
take care of individual interests.... Almost all the former European
residents here having been murdered by the miscreant Nena Sahib, there
is no one forthcoming to recognise or give any information concerning
the property that has been saved.’ At a later date Captain Bruce
captured one of the boatmen who had come down from Futteghur with the
first party of unhappy fugitives from that place; the man had a large
amount of English jewellery in his possession, comprising brooches,
earrings, bracelets, clasps, studs, shawl-pins, hair-lockets, gold
chains, and similar articles. The boatman had probably secreted the
jewel-caskets of the unfortunate ladies, at or shortly before the
forcible landing of the boat-party at Bithoor.
A much more painful inquiry, than any relating to property, was that
relating to the loss of life. When Captain Bruce, after many days of
sedulous inquiry, had collected all the available information bearing on
the fate of the hapless sufferers, he arrived at these conclusions—that
the only Europeans who escaped from the boat-massacre, and really
obtained their liberty, were two officers and two soldiers—probably
Lieutenant Delafosse and three of his companions; that the only one who
remained in Cawnpore and yet preserved his life, was a pensioner of the
3d light dragoons, who was concealed in the city by a trooper of the 4th
light cavalry; and that there were, on the 31st of July, six Englishmen,
three Englishwomen, and three children, concealed and protected by the
Rajah of Calpee, across the Jumna; but it was not stated, and perhaps
not known, whether they had gone thither from Cawnpore. Mr Shepherd
himself was not included in this list. When Lieutenant Delafosse, about
a fortnight after the recapture of Cawnpore, was requested by Brigadier
Neill to furnish the best list he could of the English sufferers at that
place, he endeavoured to separate the victims into three groups,
according as they had died in the intrenchment, in the boats, or in the
house of slaughter. But this was necessarily a very imperfect list; for,
on the one hand, he knew nothing of the two parties of fugitives from
Futteghur; while, on the other, he speaks of many persons who came into
the station with their families on account of disturbance, and whose
names he did not know. Taking the matter in a military estimate,
however, he gave the names of one general (Wheeler), one brigadier
(Jack), three colonels, five majors, thirteen captains, thirty-nine
lieutenants, five ensigns, and nine doctors or army-surgeons; Lady and
Miss Wheeler, Sir George Parker, and two clergymen or missionaries, were
among the other members in his melancholy list. No guess can be made of
the total numbers from this document, for the persons included under the
word ‘family’ are seldom specified by name or number. The mournful truth
was indeed only too evident that many complete families—families
consisting of very numerous members—were among the slaughtered. When the
lists began to be made out, of those who had been known as Cawnpore
residents or Futteghur fugitives, and who were found dead when the
English recaptured the place, there were such entries as
these—‘Greenway: Mr, two Mrs, Martha, Jane, John, Henry’—‘Fitzgerald:
John, Margaret, Mary, Tom, Ellen’—‘Gilpin: Mrs, William, Harriet, Sarah,
Jane, F.’—‘Reid: Mr, Susan, James, Julia, C., Charles’—‘Reeve: Mrs,
Mary, Catherine, Ellen, Nelly, Jane, Cornelia, Deon.’
Religious men, thoughtful men—and, on the other hand, men wrought up to
a pitch of exasperated feeling—afterwards spoke of the fatal well as a
spot that should be marked in some way for the observance of posterity.
Two church missionaries were among the murdered at Cawnpore; and it was
urged in many quarters that a Christian church, built with the splendour
and resources of a great nation, would be a suitable erection at that
spot—as an appropriate memorial to the dead, a striking lesson to the
living, and the commencement of a grand effort to Christianise the
heathen millions of India. Whether a church be the right covering for a
hideous pit containing nearly two hundred mangled bodies of gentle
English women and children; and whether rival creeds would struggle for
precedency in the management of its construction, its details, and the
form of its service—may fairly admit of doubt; but with or without a
church, the English in no parts of the world are ever likely to forget
THE WELL AT CAWNPORE!
Note.
_Nena Sahib’s Proclamations._—When Generals Neill and Havelock were
at Cawnpore, during a period subsequent to that comprised within the
range of the present chapter, they found many proclamations which
had been printed in the Mahratta language by order of Nena Sahib, as
if for distribution among the natives under his influence. These
proclamations were afterwards translated into English, and included
among the parliamentary papers relating to India. A few of them may
fittingly be reproduced here, to shew by what means that consummate
villain sought to attain his ends.
The following appears to have been issued on or about the 1st of
July:—‘As, by the kindness of God and the ikbal or good-fortune of
the Emperor, all the Christians who were at Delhi, Poonah, Satara,
and other places, and even those 5000 European soldiers who went in
disguise into the former city and were discovered, are destroyed and
sent to hell by the pious and sagacious troops, who are firm to
their religion; and as they have all been conquered by the present
government, and as no trace of them is left in these places, it is
the duty of all the subjects and servants of the government to
rejoice at the delightful intelligence, and to carry on their
respective work with comfort and ease.’
This was accompanied by another: ‘As, by the bounty of the glorious
Almighty God and the enemy-destroying fortune of the Emperor, the
yellow-faced and narrow-minded people have been sent to hell, and
Cawnpore has been conquered, it is necessary that all the subjects
and landowners should be as obedient to the present government as
they had been to the former one; that all the government servants
should promptly and cheerfully engage their whole mind in executing
the orders of government; that it is the incumbent duty of all the
ryots and landed proprietors of every district to rejoice at the
thought that the Christians have been sent to hell, and both the
Hindoo and Mohammedan religions have been confirmed; and that they
should as usual be obedient to the authorities of the government,
and never to suffer any complaint against themselves to reach the
ears of the higher authority.’
On the 5th of the same month the Nena issued the following to the
kotwal or Mayor of Cawnpore: ‘It has come to our notice that some of
the city people, having heard the rumours of the arrival of the
European soldiers at Allahabad, are deserting their houses and going
out into the districts; you are, therefore, directed to proclaim in
each lane and street of the city that regiments of cavalry and
infantry and batteries have been despatched to check the Europeans
either at Allahabad or Futtehpoor; that the people should therefore
remain in their houses without any apprehension, and engage their
minds in carrying on their work.’
Another proclamation displayed in an extraordinary way the Rajah’s
mode of practising on the credulity of the natives, by the most
enormous and barefaced fictions: ‘A traveller just arrived in
Cawnpore from Calcutta states that in the first instance a council
was held to take into consideration the means to be adopted to do
away with the religion of the Mohammedans and Hindoos by the
distribution of cartridges. The council came to this resolution,
that, as this matter was one of religion, the services of seven or
eight thousand European soldiers would be necessary, as 50,000
Hindustanis would have to be destroyed, and then the whole of the
people of Hindostan would become Christians. A petition with the
substance of this resolution was sent to the Queen Victoria, and it
was approved. A council was then held a second time, in which
English merchants took a part, and it was decided that, in order
that no evil should arise from mutiny, large reinforcements should
be sent for. When the dispatch was received and read in England,
thousands of European soldiers were embarked on ships as speedily as
possible, and sent off to Hindostan. The news of their being
despatched reached Calcutta. The English authorities there ordered
the issue of the cartridges, for the real intention was to
Christianise the army first, and this being effected, the conversion
of the people would speedily follow. Pigs’ and cows’ fat was mixed
up with the cartridges; this became known through one of the
Bengalese who was employed in the cartridge-making establishment. Of
those through whose means this was divulged, one was killed and the
rest imprisoned. While in this country these counsels were being
adopted, in England the vakeel (ambassador) of the Sultan of Roum
(Turkey) sent news to the sultan that thousands of European soldiers
were being sent for the purpose of making Christians of all the
people of Hindostan. Upon this the sultan issued a firman to the
King of Egypt to this effect: “You must deceive the Queen Victoria,
for this is not a time for friendship, for my vakeel writes that
thousands of European soldiers have been despatched for the purpose
of making Christians the army and people of Hindostan. In this
manner, then, this must be checked. If I should be remiss, then how
can I shew my face to God; and one day this may come upon me also,
for if the English make Christians of all in Hindostan, they will
then fix their designs upon my country.” When the firman reached the
King of Egypt, he prepared and arranged his troops before the
arrival of the English army at Alexandria, for this is the route to
India. The instant the English army arrived, the King of Egypt
opened guns upon them from all sides, and destroyed and sunk their
ships, and not a single soldier escaped. The English in Calcutta,
after the issue of the order for the cartridges, and when the mutiny
had become great, were in expectation of the arrival of the army
from London; but the Great God, in his omnipotence, had beforehand
put an end to this. When the news of the destruction of the army of
London became known, then the governor-general was plunged in grief
and sorrow, and beat his head.
‘Done by order of the Peishwa Bahadoor, 13 Zekaida, 1273 Hegira.’
[Illustration:
The Well at Cawnpore.
]
-----
Footnote 16:
Report of Select Committee of House of Commons, 1832.
Footnote 17:
The number of persons in the intrenchment on that day will probably
never be accurately known; but Mr Shepherd, from the best materials
available to him, made the following estimate:
First company, 6th battalion, artillery, 61
Her Majesty’s 32d foot, 84
Her Majesty’s 84th foot, 50
1st European Fusiliers, 15
English officers, mostly of mutinied regiments, 100
Merchants, writers, clerks, &c., 100
English drummers of mutinied regiments, 40
Wives and children of English officers, 50
Wives and children of English soldiers, 160
Wives and children of civilians, 120
Sick, native officers, and sepoys, 100
Native servants, cooks, &c., 100
Footnote 18:
‘Mamma died, July 12.’ ‘Alice died, July 9.’ ‘George died, June 27.’
‘Entered the barracks, May 21.’ ‘Cavalry left, June 5.’ ‘First shot
fired, June 6.’ ‘Uncle Willy died, June 18.’ ‘Aunt Lilly, June 17.’
[Illustration:
House of the Rajah at ALLAHABAD.
]
CHAPTER IX.
BENGAL AND THE LOWER GANGES: JUNE.
When, through the media of telegrams, dispatches, and letters, the
tragical events at Cawnpore became known in England, and were invested
with an additional horror on account of a vague suspicion that worse
remained untold, a painful and widely spread sensation was produced.
Nay, more; in almost every part of the civilised world, whether or not
in harmony with the British government on political and international
questions, astonishment was excited by these recitals of unapproachable
barbarity among a people who had acquired a sort of traditional
character for mildness and gentleness. It was about the end of June when
news of the Meerut outbreak reached London; and from that time each
fortnightly mail revealed the truth that a larger and larger area of
India was becoming involved in the troubles of insurrection—that a
gradually increasing number of military officers and civil servants of
the Company, with their wives and children, were placed in circumstances
of imminent peril. Residents in the United Kingdom, any of whose
relations and friends were stationed at Cawnpore, sought eagerly and
anxiously, as each mail arrived, for indications that escape had been
effected, or a rescuing force obtained. No such news came, no such hopes
were realised; darker and more silent was everything relating to that
much-dreaded city, until at length the frightful climax became known.
There has been a designed avoidance, in the preceding chapters of this
work, of any account of the measures adopted by the British government
in military matters, or by the British nation in active benevolence, to
remedy the disasters and allay the sufferings to which the Anglo-Indians
had so suddenly been exposed; for, in truth, India knew little of such
measures until August was far advanced. Whether all was done that might
have been done to expedite the passage of British troops to India, is a
question that will have to be considered in its proper place; the
significant truth now to be borne in mind is that the Calcutta
government had to meet the difficulties as best it could, with the
scanty supply of troops at that time in India—sending to the Mauritius
and the Cape of Good Hope for such reinforcements as might be available,
but knowing that aid from England could not arrive for many months. The
mode of treatment adopted here is naturally suggested by the course of
events themselves. When the ramifications of the Revolt have been traced
throughout the month of June, a chapter will then be devoted to the
subjects above indicated; for, although Cawnpore carried us into July,
we have yet to watch what was concurrently passing at other places.
We begin with the region extending from the Burmese frontier to the
Doab, and forming the eastern portion of Northern India; it may for
convenience be called Bengal, without any rigid adherence to territorial
subdivision.
The Indian government was not as yet troubled with any serious outbreaks
at Chittagong or Dacca, or in any of the districts bounding the Bay of
Bengal on the north and east. There were a few native troops at the
first named of these two towns, belonging to one of the mutinous
regiments at Barrackpore; but tranquillity was not disturbed by them. It
is true that, when the disloyalty of the 34th became known, the
inhabitants of Chittagong and Tipperah experienced some alarm lest the
detachment of this regiment stationed at the first-named town might
follow the pernicious example; but the Company’s collector, having three
lacs of rupees in hand, quietly removed his treasure on board a steamer;
and all uneasiness was soon allayed. Along the extreme eastern border of
the Bengal presidency, from Assam down through Dacca to Chittagong, the
month of June similarly passed over without any disturbances calling for
notice, although a temporary panic was excited in more than one spot. At
Dacca, for instance, the approach of disbanded native mutineers was
apprehended; and a mischievous set of Mohammedans, under one Keramut
Ali, were detected in the endeavour to sow the seeds of disaffection;
but by the firmness of the civil authorities, and the arrival of a
hundred seamen in two pinnaces from the Company’s steamers _Zenobia_ and
_Punjaub_, tranquillity was soon restored.
In the Calcutta and Barrackpore district, although no actual mutiny
occurred, symptoms were presented that gave much anxiety to the
Europeans residing at the capital, and prompted energetic preventive
measures. We have seen, in Chapter II., that much discontent was
exhibited at Dumdum, Barrackpore, and Berhampore, between the months of
January and May, by the native troops; that this discontent was
(professedly) associated with the affair of the greased cartridges; that
insubordination led to disarming and disbandment; that the news of the
Meerut and Delhi atrocities in May greatly alarmed the Calcutta
inhabitants; and that many addresses of loyalty and sympathy with the
government were thenceforth presented. During the first half of June,
the European residents looked with a sort of suspicious watchfulness at
everything that was occurring around them, prepared to find the native
troops treacherous, yet hoping for better things. The reliable forces in
Calcutta at that time comprised H.M. 53d foot, nine hundred strong, and
five hundred of H.M. 37th. A company of the 3d battalion Madras
artillery; No. 2 horse field-battery; forty men of the royal artillery,
recently arrived from Ceylon; and a wing of H.M. 35th foot, were at
Barrackpore. The 78th Highlanders were at Chinsura. On the 13th of June,
Calcutta was thrown into great agitation. A messenger was captured by
the authorities, and confessed that the sepoys at Barrackpore and
Calcutta had agreed to mutiny on that very night. Arrangements were
immediately made for defending the city by the aid chiefly of
volunteers, who had before then begun to organise themselves. The
civilians took arms, marshalled themselves into companies and corps, and
paraded the streets in the English part of the city. During the two
following nights, this patrolling was conducted very vigilantly; and
every native met in the streets was required to give an account of his
movements. On one occasion, Lady Canning, accompanied by the
governor-general, the commander-in-chief, Generals Windham and Beatson,
and a glittering staff, went to the parade-ground; where, the volunteers
being all drawn up in full array, her ladyship presented them with
colours, and made a complimentary address; to which Major Turnbull
replied, as commandant of the ‘Calcutta Volunteer Guards.’
The military proceedings on this occasion were as follow. Before light
on Sunday morning the 14th, in consequence of a message received from
head-quarters, a body of the 78th Highlanders was sent off hastily from
Chinsura to Barrackpore, to disarm the native troops there; while five
hundred of her Majesty’s 37th foot, landed from Ceylon only the day
before, were marched off to a point about midway between Calcutta and
Barrackpore, to command the road during the disarming. About midnight an
order arrived that some of the 37th should return instantly to the
capital. It had been discovered that the deposed King of Oude, residing
in a handsome house at Garden Reach, was engaged in some machinations
with a prince of the Delhi family, inimical to the interests of the
Europeans. A military force marched to his house at four o’clock on the
morning of the 15th, surrounded the grounds, entered, and seized the
king and his prime minister, together with a large quantity of papers.
Arrangements were immediately made for the safe custody of the two
Oudians, until the papers could be fully examined. A document came to
light, containing a Mohammedan sketch-map of Calcutta, dividing the city
into sections; together with the plan for a general rising of natives on
the centenary day of the battle of Plassy, the murder of all the
Feringhees, and the establishment of a native ‘raj’ or dynasty on the
ruins of that of the Company. It was deemed proper to adopt prompt
measures on this occasion; all the native troops in Calcutta were
disarmed as a precautionary measure, including the Calcutta militia, but
excluding the governor-general’s body-guard. The sepoys, who made no
demur whatever, were disarmed in parties wherever they happened to be—at
the Government House guard, the treasury, the mint, the bank, and the
fort. Each party was confronted by a party of Europeans, and gave up
arms on being so commanded; the arms and ammunition were then taken away
by the European soldiers, nothing being left with the sepoys but their
ramrods, with which to ‘shoulder arms.’ It was explained to them that
the disarming was only a temporary precautionary measure; that they
would receive pay and perform sentinel-duty as before; and that the arms
would be restored to them as soon as public tranquillity was insured.
The inhabitants of Calcutta long continued to bear well in remembrance
the 14th of June. For nearly a month the civilians had been in the habit
of taking revolvers with them to church, balls, and parties; but on this
day, such were the vague terrors of slaughter whispered from mouth to
mouth, that the excitement rose to a height of panic. One who was there
at the time said: ‘The infection of terror raged through all classes.
Chowringhee and Garden Reach were abandoned for the fort and the vessels
in the river. The shipping was crowded with fugitives; and in houses
which were selected as being least likely to be attacked, hundreds of
people gladly huddled together, to share the peculiar comfort which the
presence of crowds imparts on such occasions. The hotels were fortified;
bands of sailors marched through the thoroughfares, happy in the
expectation of possible fighting and the certainty of grog. Every group
of natives was scanned with suspicion. The churches and the course were
abandoned for that evening. A rising, either of Hindoos or of
Mussulmans, or perhaps of both, was looked upon as certain to happen in
the course of the night. From Chandernagore the whole body of European
and East Indian inhabitants emigrated to Calcutta; the _personnel_ of
government, the staff of the army, all in short who had anything to
lose, preferred to come away and run the risk of losing it, rather than
encounter the unknown danger.’ A somewhat unworthy timidity seems, at
first sight, to mark all this; but the civilians and private families of
Calcutta, utterly unused to war, had been so horror-stricken by the
accounts of murders of officers, violations of women, mutilations of
little children, burnings of sick and wounded, and other atrocities
perpetrated in Upper India, as to become in a certain sense paralysed.
After the decisive measures adopted by the government on the 14th and
next following day, the inhabitants of the capital gradually recovered
their equanimity; and the month closed peacefully.
Early in June, the sepoys cantoned at Barrackpore made the same kind of
demonstration as at an earlier date—that is, they professed fidelity,
and asked to be furnished with the new Enfield rifle. In the 43d
regiment B. N. I., there was a general application made to Major
Matthews, by native officers as well as sepoys, to this effect;
accompanied by the expression of a desire to be sent to fight against
the rebels at Delhi. The 70th B. N. I., almost to a man, came forward on
the 5th of the month, and presented a petition to Colonel Kennedy, with
a similar prayer. The petition began somewhat boastfully: ‘From the day
on which his lordship the governor-general condescended to come in
person to answer our petition, on which occasion General Hearsey
translated to us his address, and which was fully explained to us by our
colonel, interpreter, adjutant, and all the other officers of the
regiment, our honour and name have been raised amongst our countrymen;’
and it ended with an abundant profession of loyalty towards the
government. The 34th regiment B. N. I., or such of the men as were at
Barrackpore, imitated the example of their fellow-soldiers; they sent a
petition to Lieutenant-colonel Wheler on the 9th of June, expressive of
their loyalty, and requesting that the new rifle might be served out to
them. The government, in reply to all these petitions and
demonstrations, stated that the supply of Enfield rifles received from
England was too small to permit the granting of the request; but that
the request itself was received with much gratification by the
governor-general, ‘proving as it does that the men of these regiments
consider there is nothing objectionable either in the rifles or in the
cartridges to their caste or religion.’
Little was it suspected in how short a time all these complimentary
exchanges of good words would be brought to nought. On the evening of
the 13th came to light those plottings or suspicions of plottings which
led to an imperative order for the disarming of the sepoys. In a private
letter on this subject, the major-general said: ‘Some villains in the
corps were trying to incite the good men and true to mutiny; these good
men ought to have given the villains up to justice;’ but as they did
not, he thought it a safe plan to disarm them all. When this
determination was made known by the authorities, many of the English
officers of the native regiments felt much vexed and hurt; they still
relied on their men, and deemed it a humiliation to themselves that such
a course should be deemed necessary. Captain Greene, of the 70th N. I.,
wrote to Major-general Hearsey, on the Sunday morning: ‘Is it of any use
my interceding with you on behalf of my old corps, which, for nigh
twenty-five years, has been my pride and my home? I cannot express to
you the pain with which I have just heard that they are this evening to
be subjected to the indignity of being disarmed. Had the men misbehaved,
I should have felt no sympathy for them; but they have not committed
themselves in any way; and surely after the governor-general’s laudatory
order and expression of confidence, it would not be too much to expect
that a fair trial of their sincerity should be afforded.’ Captain Greene
proceeded to say that he knew the men thoroughly, and had the most firm
and undoubted reliance on their fidelity. The authorities were not
affected by this appeal. At four o’clock in the afternoon, the 35th and
78th British regiments were marched to the parade-ground at Barrackpore,
with loaded muskets, and supported by six 12-pounders loaded with
grape-shot. The native troops were then summoned to the parade, and
ordered at once to surrender their arms; this they did quietly and
promptly, for even if disposed to resist, the force against them was too
formidable. In little more than an hour, the muskets of the disarmed
regiments were on the way to Calcutta. The sepoys bore the trial
quietly, but with many expressions of mortification.
Captain Greene, in the postscript to a letter written on the following
day to the major-general, mentioned certain facts which ought to have
opened his eyes to the possibility of deceit and danger. A Mussulman
sepoy of the 70th regiment came to him on the 9th of the month, and
after conversation on some contemplated movements of the captain, said:
‘Whatever you do, do not take your lady with you.’ He gave as a reason:
‘Because the minds of the native soldiers are now in a state of
inquietude; and it would be better to let the lady remain here till
everything is settled in the country, as there is no knowing what might
happen.’ On being asked whether he had reason to doubt the regiment, he
exclaimed: ‘Who can tell the hearts of a thousand men!’ He implied that
a few evil men were endeavouring to corrupt the rest. This communicative
sepoy went on to observe, that the cartridge grievance, although founded
on a misconception in the first instance, was afterwards used as a means
of imposing on the ignorant. There were men who went about saying that
the English endeavoured to destroy the caste and religion of the people;
that the government ought to be uprooted; and that as the Company had
been driven out of Cabool, so might it be driven out of the whole of
India, if the people acted resolutely and with one accord. Another
sepoy, a Hindoo, in the same regiment, told Captain Greene that the
Mussulmans generally in all regiments were in the habit of talking to
the effect that their ‘raj’ or supremacy was coming round again. Many
others spoke indistinctly to him about dangers, and promised to protect
him if peril arose. It may not be improbable that most of the men in
that regiment were really disposed to be faithful, and that the danger
arose from a smaller number of malcontents. Captain Greene went to see
his men in the lines after the disarming; it was a painful interview to
them all. ‘I have been for upwards of an hour,’ he wrote, ‘endeavouring
to allay the excited feelings of our men, who were in such a state of
depression, that many were crying bitterly, and none could cook their
food. Some, too, had sold their cooking utensils for a mere trifle in
the bazaar.’ The regiment had not been disbanded as if in disgrace, only
disarmed as if for precaution; but the men nevertheless regarded it as a
degradation. Some budmashes (scoundrels) had been amongst them in the
night, and had urged them to desert, telling them that handcuffs and
manacles had been sent for. The captain earnestly implored that their
arms should be given back to them: ‘Unless something be speedily done to
reassure them, the influence of their European officers will cease to
exist, and a good regiment will crumble away before hopelessness and
desertion. All of us, black and white, would be so thankful to you if
you would get us back our arms, and sent away from here at once.’ This
request was not acceded to.
Within ten days after the disarming, a hundred and thirty-three men of
the disarmed regiments (2d, 34th, 43d, and 70th) deserted from
Barrackpore and Calcutta, nearly all belonging to the 43d. The
magistrates and military authorities in many parts of Bengal were
troubled with the arrival of these deserters, who came two or three at a
time, and endeavoured to excite disaffection against a government which,
as they alleged, had disgraced them without a cause. A reward of fifty
rupees was offered for the apprehension of every deserter.
Departing from Calcutta and Barrackpore as centres, it may be well now
to sketch the state of the surrounding districts during the month of
June. Towards the northeast, many towns, especially Jessore, were thrown
occasionally into excitement by occurrences which would have been
regarded as trivial if happening at any other time, but which required
watchful attention on the part of the authorities in the peculiarly
sensitive state of the native mind. In the Dinagepore district, near the
Bhotan frontier, several moulvies spread reports of the intention of the
government forcibly to convert native children to Christianity: these
reports caused many of the children in the vernacular school at
Muthoorapore to be withdrawn by their parents; and on an examination of
the moulvies being ordered by the authorities, it was found that the
fakeers and other religious mendicants were accustomed to carry
treasonable letters and concealed correspondence within the bamboo
sticks with which most of them were provided. North and west of the
Anglo-Indian capital, a similar state of public affairs was presented; a
succession of troublous symptoms that required attention, but without
entailing serious consequences. In some instances disarmed sepoys were
detected exciting disaffection; in others, seditious placards were
posted up in the towns. In the country around Ramgurh a few
circumstances transpired to produce temporary disquietude. The Ramgurh
battalion was believed to be stanch; but as some discontent had spread
among the troops in relation to the cartridge grievance, and as two or
three petty chieftains exhibited symptoms of disloyalty, judicious and
early precautions were taken against disaster—especially at Hazarebagh,
where the treasury contained a lac of rupees, and where the jail,
containing nine hundred prisoners, was guarded solely by two companies
of a native regiment: a kind of guard which had proved very perilous at
Meerut a few weeks earlier. At Midnapore, a sepoy of the jail-guard,
detected in an attempt to excite mutiny among the men of the
Shekhawuttie battalion, was tried, found guilty, and hanged.
The most serious event in the districts around Calcutta, perhaps, was
one that occurred in the Sonthal Pergunnahs; in which the 5th irregular
cavalry displayed a tendency, fatal on a small scale, and likely to have
become much more disastrous if not speedily checked. Lieutenant Sir N.
R. Leslie was adjutant of that regiment at Rohnee. On the 12th of June,
this officer, Major Macdonald, and Assistant-surgeon Grant, while
sitting in Sir Norman Leslie’s compound, in the dusk of the evening,
were suddenly attacked by three men armed with swords. Major Macdonald
received a blow which laid his head open, and rendered him insensible
for many hours; Mr Grant received sword-wounds on the arm and the leg;
while Sir Norman was so severely wounded that he expired within half an
hour. The miscreants escaped after this ferocious attack, without
immediate detection.[19] At first it was hoped and believed that the
regiment had not been dishonoured by the presence of these murderers on
the muster-roll; Mr Grant was of this opinion; but Major Macdonald,
commandant of the regiment, took a less favourable view. The offenders,
it soon appeared, belonged to the regiment; a chase was ordered; two of
the men were found after a time, with their clothes smeared with blood;
while the third, when taken, candidly owned that it was his sword that
had given the death-stroke to Leslie. The murderers were speedily
executed, but without giving any information touching the motives that
led to their crime. Three sowars of the regiment, Ennus Khan, Kurreem
Shere Khan, and Gamda Khan, received encomiums and rewards for the
alacrity with which they had pursued the reckless men who had thus
brought discredit on their corps. The official dispatches relating to
this affair comprised two letters written by Major Macdonald to Captain
Watson, an officer commanding a squadron of the same regiment at
Bhagulpore; they afford curious illustration of the cheerful, daring,
care-for-naught spirit in which the British officers were often
accustomed to meet their difficulties during those exciting scenes: ‘I
am as fairly cut and neatly scalped as any Red Indian could do it. I got
three cracks in succession on the head before I knew I was attacked. I
then seized my chair by the arms, and defended myself successfully from
two of them on me at once; I guarded and struck the best way I could;
and at last Grant and self drove the cowards off the field. This is
against my poor head, writing; but you will be anxious to know how
matters really were; I expect to be in high fever to-morrow, as I have
got a bad gash into the skull besides being scalped.’ This was written
on the day after the murderous attack; and three days later the major
wrote: ‘My dear fellow, I have had a sad time of it, and am but little
able to go through such scenes, for I am very badly wounded; but, thank
God, my spirits and pluck never left me for a moment. When you see my
poor old head, you will wonder I could hold it up at all. I have
preserved my scalp in spirits of wine—such a jolly specimen!’
In Cuttack, bounding the northwest corner of the Bay of Bengal, many
Mohammedans were detected in the attempt to sap the loyalty of the
Shekhawuttie battalion. Lieutenant-colonel Forster, with the
head-quarters of that corps at Midnapore, succeeded by his personal
influence in keeping the men from anything beyond slight acts of
insubordination; but he had many proofs, in that town and in the Cuttack
district, that the Company’s ‘raj’ or rule was being preached against by
many emissaries of rebellion.
This rapid sketch will have shewn that the eastern divisions of Bengal
were not disturbed by any very serious tumults during the month of June.
Incipient proofs of disaffection were, it is true, manifested in many
places; but they were either unimportant in extent, or were checked
before they could rise to perilous magnitude. In the western divisions,
however, the troubles were more serious; the towns were further from
Calcutta, nearer to the turbulent region of Oude; and these conditions
of locality greatly affected the steadiness and honesty of the native
troops.
During the earlier days of the month, considerable excitement prevailed
in the districts of which Patna and Dinapoor are the chief towns; in
consequence of the general spread of a belief, inculcated by the
deserters from Barrackpore, that the government contemplated an active
interference with the religion of the people. A similar delusion, it was
speedily remembered, had existed in the same parts about two years
earlier; the government had adopted such measures as, it was hoped,
would remove the prejudice; but the events of 1857 shewed that the
healing policy of 1855 had not been effective for the purpose in view.
Until the 13th of June, the disaffection was manifested only by sullen
complainings and indistinct threats; but on that day matters presented a
more serious aspect. The various magistrates throughout the Patna
division reported to the lieutenant-governor of Bengal, that although no
acts of violence had been committed, the continuance of tranquillity
would mainly depend on the fidelity of the native troops at Dinapoor,
the most important military station in that part of India. Dinapoor may,
in fact, be regarded as the military post belonging to the great city of
Patna, which is about ten miles distant.[20] The magistrates also
reported, as one result of their inquiries, that the Mohammedans in that
division were thoroughly disaffected; and that if any disturbance
occurred at head-quarters (Dinapoor), a rapid extension of the revolt
would be almost inevitable. When these facts and feelings became known,
such precautionary measures were adopted as seemed best calculated to
avert the impending evils. An increase was made in the police force at
Behar; the ghats or landing-places were carefully watched and regulated;
the frontiers of the neighbouring disaffected districts were watched; a
portion of the Company’s treasure at Arrah and Chupra was sent off to
Calcutta, and the rest removed to Patna for safe custody under a guard
of Sikhs; a volunteer guard was formed in that city; measures were taken
to defend the collectorate and the opium factories; six companies of the
Sikh police battalion were marched from Soorie to Patna; and places of
rendezvous for European residents were appointed at many of the
stations, to facilitate a combined plan of action in the event of
mutinous symptoms appearing among the native troops. The Rajahs of
Bettiah and Hutwah addressed letters expressive of loyalty and affection
towards the government, and placed men and elephants at the disposal of
the local authorities, to assist in the maintenance of tranquillity.
Towards the middle of the month, an alarm prevailed at Chupra and Arrah,
consequent on the mutinous proceedings in certain towns further to the
west, presently to be noticed. Large works were under construction near
those places in connection with the East India Railway; and the
Europeans engaged in those operations, as well as others resident in the
two towns, made a hasty retreat, and sought for refuge at Dinapoor. The
magistrates and most of the civil officers remained at their posts, and
by their firmness prevented the alarm from degenerating into a panic. At
Gayah or Gya, a town between Patna and the great trunk-road—celebrated
for its Bhuddist and Hindoo temples, and the great resort of pilgrims of
both religions—considerable apprehension prevailed, on account of the
unprotected state of a large amount of Company’s treasure in the
collectorate; an apprehension increased by the presence of many
desperate characters at that time in the jail, and by the guard of the
jail being wholly composed of natives who would remain steady only so
long as those at Dinapoor were ‘faithful to their salt.’ Fortunately,
the authorities were enabled to obtain a guard of European soldiers,
chiefly from her majesty’s 64th regiment; and thus the ruffians, more to
be dreaded than even the rebellious sepoys, were overawed.
It is impossible to avoid seeing, in the course of events throughout
India, how much importance ought to be attached to the matter just
adverted to—the instrumentality of robbers and released prisoners in
producing the dreadful scenes presented. India swarms with depredators
who war on the peaceful and industrious inhabitants—not merely
individual thieves, but robber-tribes who infest certain provinces,
directing their movements by the chances of war or of plunder. Instead
of extirpating these ill-doers, as Asiatic sovereigns have sometimes
attempted to do, the East India Company has been accustomed to capture
and imprison them. Hence the jails are always full. At every important
station we have several hundred, sometimes two or three thousand, such
prisoners. The mutiny set loose these mischievous elements. The release
of crowds of murderers and robbers from prison, the flocking of others
from the villages, and the stimulus given to latent rogues by the
prospect of plunder, would account for a large amount of the outrage
committed in India—outrage which popular speech in England attaches to
the sepoys alone.
On the 13th of June, the first indications of a conspiracy at Patna were
detected. A nujeeb of the Behar station guards was discovered in an
attempt to tamper with the Sikhs of the police corps, and to excite them
to mutiny: he was tried, convicted, sentenced to death, and hanged;
while three Sikhs, who had been instrumental in his apprehension, were
publicly rewarded with fifty rupees each. In singular contrast to this,
three other nujeebs of the same force, on the same day, placed in the
commissioner’s hands a letter received from sepoys at Dinapoor, urging
the Behar guards to mutiny, and to seize the treasure at Patna before
the Sikhs could arrive to the rescue: this, as a valuable service
rendered at a critical period, was rewarded by donations of two hundred
rupees to each of the three men. The next symptoms were exhibited by
certain members of the Wahabee sect of Mohammedans at Patna. The
fanatical devotion of these Mussulmans to their spiritual leaders, their
abnegation of self, and their mode of confidential communication with
each other without written documents, render it at all times difficult
to produce legal proof of any machinations among them; while their
mutual fidelity enables them to resist all temptation to betrayal. The
commissioner of Patna, having suspicions of the proceedings of the
Wahabees in that city, deemed it politic to detain four of their number
as hostages for the sect generally—a sect formidable for its
organisation, and peculiarly hostile to Christians. They were placed in
a sort of honourable confinement, while a general disarming of the
inhabitants took place. On another occasion a police jemadar, Waris Ali,
was ascertained to be in possession of a large amount of treasonable
correspondence; he was known to be in some way related to the royal
family of Delhi; and the letters found in his house threw suspicion on
more than one native official in the service of the Company.
The most serious affair at Patna, however, occurred about the close of
the period to which this chapter more particularly relates. At about
eight o’clock in the evening of the 3d of July, a body of Mohammedans,
variously estimated from eighty to two hundred, assembled at the house
of one of their number, one Peer Ali Khan, a bookseller, and proceeded
thence to the Roman Catholic church and mission-house in Patna, with two
large green flags, a drum beating, and cries of ‘Ali! Ali!’ The priest,
whom they probably intended to murder, fortunately escaped. They emerged
into the street, reiterated their cries, and called on the populace to
join them. Dr Lyell, principal assistant to the opium agent, immediately
went to the spot, accompanied by nine Sikhs. He rode ahead of his
support, was shot down by the rioters, and his body mangled and
mutilated before the Sikhs could come up. A force of Sikhs and nujeebs
speedily recovered the unfortunate gentleman’s body, killed some of the
insurgents, and put the rest to flight. This appeared at first to be a
religious demonstration: a Mohammedan fanatic war-cry was shouted, and
the property of the Catholic mission was destroyed, but without any
plunder or removal. Thirty-six of the insurgents were afterwards
captured and tried; sixteen of the number, including Peer Ali Khan, who
was believed to be the murderer of Dr Lyell, were condemned to death;
eighteen, including a jemadar, were sentenced to various terms of
imprisonment; and two were acquitted. All the facts of this temporary
outbreak were full of significance; for it soon became evident that
something more than mere religious hostility had been intended. Peer Ali
Khan was offered a reprieve if he would divulge the nature of the
conspiracy; but, like a bold, consistent fanatic, he remained defiant to
the last, and nothing could be got out of him. It was afterwards
ascertained that he had been in secret communication with an influential
native at Cawnpore ever since the annexation of Oude, and that the
details of some widely-spread plot had been concerted between them. The
capture of the thirty-six rioters had been effected by the disclosures
of one of the band, who was wounded in the struggle; he declared that a
plot had been in existence for many months, and that men were regularly
paid to excite the people to fight for the Padishah of Delhi. Letters
found in Peer Ali’s house disclosed an organised Mussulman conspiracy to
re-establish Mohammedan supremacy on the ruins of British power; and
besides the correspondence with Cawnpore and Delhi, a clue was obtained
to the complicity of an influential Mohammedan at Lucknow.
Patna was sufficiently well watched and guarded to prevent the
occurrence of anything of more serious import. Nevertheless, the
European inhabitants were kept in great anxiety, knowing how much their
safety depended on the conduct of the sepoys at Dinapoor. The
commissioner at the one place, and the military commandant at the other,
were naturally rejoiced to receive any demonstrations of fidelity on the
part of the native troops, even if the sincerity of those demonstrations
were not quite free from doubt. On the 3d of June, Colonel Templer
assembled the 7th regiment B. N. I. on the military parade at Dinapoor,
to read to them the flattering address which Viscount Canning had made
to the 70th regiment at Barrackpore, on the manifestation of loyalty by
that corps. On the conclusion of this ceremony, the native commissioned
officers came up to the colonel, and presented to him a petition, signed
by two subadars and five jemadars on the part of the whole regiment. The
petition is worth transcribing,[21] to shew in what glowing language the
native troops could express their grateful allegiance—but whether
sincere or insincere, no European could at that time truly tell. Colonel
Templer desired that all the men who acknowledged the petition to
contain an expression of their real sentiments and wishes, would
shoulder their arms in token thereof; on which every one present
shouldered arms. The native officers afterwards assured the colonel,
with apparent earnestness, that it was the eager wish of the whole
regiment to be afforded an opportunity of removing even a suspicion of
their disaffection. When Colonel Templer repeated this to Major-general
Lloyd, the military commander of the Dinapoor division, and when Lloyd
forwarded the communication to Calcutta, the regiment of course received
thanks for the demonstration, and were assured that ‘their good conduct
will be kept in remembrance by the governor-general in council.’ It was
not until a later month that the small value of these protestations was
clearly shewn; nevertheless the Europeans at Dinapoor continued
throughout June to be very uneasy. Almost every one lived in the square;
the guns were kept ready loaded with grape; the few European troops were
on the alert; and pickets were posted all round the station. A motley
assemblage—planters, soldiers, civilians, railway men, and others—was
added to the ordinary residents, driven in from the surrounding
districts for protection. The officers gave up their mess-house to the
ladies, who completely filled it.
In Tirhoot, a district north of Patna, on the other side of the Ganges,
the planters and others were thrown into great excitement during the
month of June, by the events occurring around them. About the middle of
the month, planters left their estates and civilians their homes, to go
for refuge to the Company’s station at Mozufferpoor. Eighty gentlemen,
thirty ladies, and forty children, were all crowded into two houses; the
ladies and children shut up at night, while the men slept in verandahs,
or in tents, or took turns in patrolling. The nujeebs, stationed at that
place, were suspected of being in sympathy with the mutineers; one of
the Company’s servants, disguised as a native, went to their quarters
one night, and overheard them conversing about murdering the Europeans,
looting the treasury (which contained seven lacs of rupees), and
liberating the prisoners. This was the alarm that led to the assembling
of the Europeans at the station for mutual protection; and there can be
little doubt that the protection would have been needed had Dinapoor
fallen. One of the Mohammedan inhabitants was seized at Mozufferpoor,
with a quantity of treasonable correspondence in his possession; and the
commandant at Segowlie condemned to the gallows with very little scruple
several suspicious characters in various parts of the district.
Advancing up the Ganges, we come to Ghazeepore, on its northern or left
bank. This town, containing forty thousand inhabitants, is rendered
somewhat famous by a palace once belonging to the Nawab of Oude, but now
in a very ruinous state; also by the beautiful Grecian tomb erected to
the Marquis of Cornwallis; and by the rose-gardens in its vicinity,
where rose-leaves are gathered for making the celebrated otto or attar.
The bungalows of the Company’s civil servants are situated west of the
town; and beyond them is the military cantonment. During the early part
of the month of June, the 65th native infantry, stationed at Ghazeepore,
was sorely tempted by the mutinying of so many other regiments at
stations within forty or fifty miles; but they remained stanch for some
time longer.
Not so the sepoys at Azimghur, a town northwest of Ghazeepore,
containing twelve or fourteen thousand inhabitants, and a military
station. At this place the 17th regiment Bengal native infantry was
posted at the beginning of June. On the 3d of the month an escort of
thirty troopers of the 13th irregular cavalry brought in seven lacs of
rupees from Goruckpore, _en route_ to Benares. At six o’clock in the
evening the treasure was started again on its journey; and in three
hours afterwards the 17th mutinied, influenced apparently rather by the
hope of _loot_ than by any political or religious motives. During
several days previously the authorities had been employed in throwing up
a breastwork around the cutchery or government offices; but this was not
finished. The sepoys killed their quartermaster, and wounded the
quartermaster-sergeant and two or three others. The officer on guard at
the fort of the cutchery sent out a picket to the lines, and ordered the
native artillerymen to load their guns: this they refused to do; and
hence the infantry were left to follow out their plan of spoliation. The
officers were at mess when the mutiny began; seeing the danger, they
placed the ladies on the roof of the cutchery. When the sepoys came up,
they formed a square round the officers, and swore to protect them; but
stated that, as some men of the regiment were very hostile, it would be
better for all the officers to depart. The men brought carriages for
them, and escorted them ten miles on the road to Ghazeepore. Many of the
civilians hurried away to the same town, reaching that place in terrible
plight. The marauders from the neighbouring villages did not fail in
their usual course; they plundered the bungalows of the Europeans at
Azimghur, or such of them as were left unprotected.
Far more serious were the events at Benares, than at any city or station
eastward of it, during the month of June. It would in all probability
have been still more deplorable, had not European troops arrived just at
that time. Lieutenant-colonel Neill reached Benares on the 3d of June,
with sixty men and three officers of the 1st Madras Fusiliers
(Europeans), of which regiment five more companies were in the rear,
expecting to reach that city in a few days. The regiment had been
despatched in great haste by Viscount Canning, in the hope that it would
appear before Cawnpore in time to relieve Sir Hugh Wheeler and his
unfortunate companions. Neill intended, after a day’s repose, to have
started from Benares for Cawnpore on the 4th; but he received timely
notice from Lieutenant Palliser that the 17th B. N. I. had mutinied at
Azimghur; and that the treasure, passing through Azimghur in its way
from Goruckpore to Benares (mentioned in the last paragraph), had been
plundered by the mutinous sepoys. Brigadier Ponsonby, the commandant at
Benares, at once consulted with Colonel Neill concerning the propriety
of disarming the 37th regiment Bengal infantry, stationed at that city.
Neill recommended this to be done, and done at once. It was then
arranged that Neill should make his appearance on parade at five o’clock
that same afternoon, accompanied by a hundred and fifty of H.M. 10th
foot, sixty of the Madras Fusiliers, and three guns of No. 12
field-battery, with thirty artillerymen. They were to be joined on
parade by the Sikh regiment, in which Lieutenant-colonel Gordon placed
full confidence, and about seventy of the 13th irregular cavalry. The
37th, suspecting what was intended, ran to the bells of arms, seized and
loaded their muskets, and fired upon the Europeans; several men fell
wounded, and the brigadier was rendered powerless by a sun stroke.
Thereupon Colonel Neill, assuming the command, made a dash on the native
lines. What was now the perplexity of the colonel, and the mortification
of Gordon, at seeing the Sikhs halt, waver, turn round, wound several of
their officers, fire at the Europeans, and disperse! It was one of those
inexplicable movements so frequently exhibited by the native troops.
Neill, now distrusting all save the Europeans, opened an effective fire
with his three guns, expelled the 37th from their lines, burnt the huts,
and then secured his own men and guns in the barrack for the night.
Early on the morning of the 5th he sent out parties, and brought in such
of the arms and accoutrements of the 37th as had been left behind; he
also told off a strong body to bring the Company’s treasure from the
civil offices to the barracks. Colonel Neill fully believed that if he
had delayed his bold proceeding twelve hours, the ill-protected treasury
would have been seized by the 37th, and that the numerous European
families in the cantonment would have been placed in great peril before
he could reach them. The barracks were between the cantonment and the
city; and near them was a building called the mint. Into this mint,
before going on parade on the 4th, he had arranged that all the families
should go for refuge in the event of any disturbance taking place. A few
of the Sikhs and of the irregular cavalry remained faithful; and Colonel
Neill, with his two hundred and forty Europeans[22] and these fragments
of native regiments, contrived to protect the city, the barracks, the
mint, and the cantonment—a trying task, to defend so large an area from
mutinous sepoys and troopers, and predatory budmashes. He had to record
the deaths of Captain Guise, an army-surgeon, and two privates; and the
wounding of about double this number—casualties surprising for their
lightness, considering that there were nearly two thousand enemies to
contend against altogether. Of the insurgents, not less than two hundred
were killed or wounded. It was at once determined to strengthen the
neighbouring fort of Chunar or Chunargur; for which duty a small
detachment of Europeans was drafted off.
Such were the military operations of the 4th and 5th of June, as told in
the brief professional language of Colonel Neill. Various officers and
civilians afterwards dwelt more fully on the detailed incidents of those
two days. The 13th irregular cavalry and the Sikhs (Loodianah regiment)
had been relied on as faithful; and the 37th had greatly distinguished
itself in former years in the Punjaub and Afghanistan. This infantry
regiment, however, exhibited signs of insubordination on the 1st of the
month; and on the 3d, Lieutenant-colonel Gordon, second in command under
Ponsonby, told the brigadier that the men of the 37th were plotting with
the ruffians of the city. The brigadier, Mr Tucker the commissioner, and
Mr Gubbins the judge, thereupon conferred; and it was almost fully
determined, even before Colonel Neill’s arrival, and before the receipt
of disastrous news from Azimghur, that the disbandment of the regiment
would be a necessary measure of precaution. The irregular cavalry were
stationed at Sultanpore and Benares, and were called in to aid the
Europeans and Sikhs in the disarming. A few of the officers, unlike
their brethren, distrusted these troopers; and the distrust proved to be
well founded. The Sikhs, at the hour of need, fell away as soon as the
37th had seized their arms; and the irregulars were not slow to follow
their example; so that, in effect, the insurgents were to the Europeans
in the ratio of eight or ten to one. One of the English officers of the
37th has placed upon record a few facts shewing how strangely unexpected
was this among many of the Indian outbreaks, by the very men whose
position and experience would naturally lead them (one might suppose) to
have watched for symptoms. In the first instance, Major Barrett,
indignant at the slight which he believed to have been put upon the good
and faithful sepoys of the 37th, by the order for disarming, went openly
towards the regiment during the struggle at the bells of arms, to shew
his confidence in them; but when he saw some of his men firing at him,
and others approach him with fixed bayonets, he felt painfully that he
must both change his opinions and effect a retreat. Some of the 37th
did, however, remain ‘true to their salt;’ and these, under the major,
who had escaped the shots aimed at him, were among the troops sent to
guard Chunar Fort. As a second instance: after Captain Guise, of the
13th irregulars, had been shot down by men of the 37th, the brigadier
appointed Captain Dodgson to supply his place; but the irregulars,
instead of obeying him, flashed their swords, muttered some indistinct
observations, fired at him, and at once joined the rebels whom they had
been employed and expected to oppose. A third instance, in relation to
the Sikhs, shall be given in the words of the officer above adverted to:
‘Just as the irregulars were flashing their swords in reply to Captain
Dodgson’s short address, I was horrified by noticing about a dozen of
the Sikhs fire straight forward upon the European soldiers, who were
still kneeling and firing into the 37th. The next moment some half-dozen
of their muskets were staring me in the face, and a whole tempest of
bullets came whizzing towards me. Two passed through my forage-cap, and
set my hair on fire; three passed through my trousers, one just grazing
my right thigh. I rushed headlong at one of the fellows whom I had
noticed more especially aiming at me, but had scarcely advanced three
paces when a second volley of bullets saluted me.’ This volley brought
the officer low; he lay among the wounded, unrecognised for many hours,
but was fortunate enough to obtain surgical aid in time to avert a fatal
result. Many circumstances afterwards came to light, tending to shew
that, had not Neill and Ponsonby taken the initiative when they did, the
native troops would probably have risen that same night, and perhaps
imitated the Meerut outrages. One of the missionaries at Benares, who
escaped to Chunar as soon as the outbreak occurred, said in a letter:
‘Some of the 37th have confessed to their officers that they had been
told out in bands for our several bungalows, to murder all the Europeans
at ten o’clock that night; and that, too, at the time they were
volunteering to go to Delhi, and Colonel Spottiswoode was walking about
among them in plain clothes with the most implicit confidence.’
The fighting, during this exciting day at Benares, was practically over
as soon as the rebels began to retreat; but then the perils of the
civilians commenced. More correctly, however, it might be said that the
wild confusion began earlier; for while the brief but fierce military
struggle was still in progress on the parade-ground, the native guards
of the 37th at the treasury, the hospital, the mess-house, the bazaar,
and other buildings, broke from their duty, and proceeded to molest the
Europeans, with evident hopes of plunder. A Sikh, one Soorut Singh, has
been credited with an act which saved many lives and much treasure. He
was among the Sikhs of the treasury-guard; and when the rising began,
talked to his comrades, and prevented them from rising in mutiny; many
civilians, with their families, who had taken refuge in the collector’s
cutcherry, were saved through this friendly agency; while the treasure
was held intact till the following morning, when European troops
convoyed it to a place of safety. The Rev. Mr Kennedy, a resident in
Benares at that time, states that the faithfulness of these Sikhs, about
seventy in number, was deemed so remarkable under the circumstances,
that £1000 was given to them as a reward for their safe guardianship of
the £60,000 in the treasury. After the discomfiture on the
parade-ground, the rebels, maddened by defeat and thirsting for blood,
streamed through many of the compounds in the cantonment as they
retreated, and fired as they passed, but happily so much at random that
little danger was done. Several of the Europeans took refuge in stables
and outhouses. Others climbed to the roofs of their houses, and hid
behind the parapets. At the house of the commissioner, Mr Tucker, many
ladies and children found concealment under straw on the flat roof;
while the gentlemen stood by to defend them if danger should approach.
Three or four families took boat, and rowed out into the middle of the
Ganges, there to remain until news of returning tranquillity should
reach them; much booming of cannon and rattling of musketry, much
appearance of fire and smoke hovering over city and cantonment, kept the
occupants of the boats in constant anxiety; but when victory had
declared for the British, and these boat-parties had returned to land,
escorts arrived to convey the non-combatants and some of the officers to
the mint, in accordance with the arrangement already made. They arrived
at that building about midnight. Mr Kennedy described in a letter the
scene presented at the mint when he and his family reached it: ‘What a
scene of confusion and tumult was there. All in front, bands of English
soldiers, ready to act at a moment’s notice; men, women, and children,
high and low, huddled together, wondering at meeting at such a time and
in such a place, not knowing where they were to throw themselves down
for the night, and altogether looking quite bewildered.’ A young
officer, throwing into his narrative that light-heartedness which so
often bore up men of his class during the troubles of the period, gave a
little more detail of the first night and day at the place of refuge: ‘I
found everybody at the mint, which several had only reached after many
adventures. We bivouacked in the large rooms, and slept on the
roof—ladies, children, ayahs, and punkah-coolies; officers lying down
dressed, and their wives sitting up fanning them. In the compound or
enclosure below, there was a little handful of Europeans, perhaps a
hundred and fifty in all; others were at the barracks half a mile off.
There was a picknicking, gipsifying look about the whole affair, which
prevented one from realising that the small congregation were there
making a stand for a huge empire, and that their lives were upon the
toss-up of the next events.’
During a considerable portion of the month of June, the Europeans made
the mint their chief place of residence, the men going out in the
daytime to their respective duties, and the ladies and children
remaining in their place of refuge. On the 5th, few ventured out of the
building, unless heavily armed or strongly escorted. The mint had a most
warlike appearance, bristling with arms, and soon became almost
insupportably hot to the numerous persons congregated within it. The hot
winds of Benares at that time, nearly midsummer, were terrible for
Europeans to bear.
[Illustration:
Mess-house of the Officers of the 6th Native Infantry at ALLAHABAD.
]
On the 7th, which was Sunday, Mr Kennedy performed divine service at the
mint, and a church-missionary at the barracks. Gradually, on subsequent
days, whole families would venture out for a few hours at a time, to
take a hasty glance at homes which they had so suddenly been called upon
to quit; but the mint continued for two or three weeks to be the refuge
to which they all looked. As European troops, however, were arriving at
Benares every day, on the way to the upper provinces, it soon became
practicable, under the energetic Neill, to insure tranquillity in and
near that city with a very small number of these so much-valued Queen’s
troops. The capture and execution of insurgents, under the combined
orders of Neill, Tucker, and Gubbins, respectively the commandant,
commissioner, and judge, were conducted with such stern promptness as
struck terror into the hearts of evildoers. It may be instructive to see
in what light Mr Kennedy, as a clergyman, regarded these terrible
executions, which are admitted to have been very numerous: ‘The gibbet
is, I must acknowledge, a standing institution among us at present.
There it stands, immediately in front of the flagstaff, with three ropes
always attached to it, so that three may be executed at one time.
Scarcely a day passes without some poor wretches being hurled into
eternity. It is horrible, very horrible! To think of it is enough to
make one’s blood run cold; but such is the state of things here, that
even fine delicate ladies may be heard expressing their joy at the
rigour with which the miscreants are treated. The swiftness with which
crime is followed by the severest punishment strikes the people with
astonishment; it is so utterly foreign to all our modes of procedure, as
known to them. Hitherto the process has been very slow, encumbered with
forms, and such cases have always been carried to the Supreme Court for
final decision; but now, the commissioner of Benares may give
commissions to any he chooses (the city being under martial law), to
try, decide, and execute on the spot, without any delay and without any
reference.’
Jounpoor or Juanpoor, a town about thirty miles northwest of Benares,
was one of those which shared with that city the troubles of the month
of June. A detachment of the Loodianah Sikh regiment, under Lieutenant
Mara, stationed at that place, mutinied most suddenly and unexpectedly
on the 5th, within less than an hour after they had shaken hands with
some of the European residents as a token of friendly feeling. The men
revolted through some impulse that the English in vain endeavoured to
understand at the time; but it was afterwards ascertained that some of
the mutinous 37th from Benares had been tampering with them. In the
first whirl of the tumult, the lieutenant and a civilian were shot down,
and the rest of the Europeans sought safety by flight. Information
reached Benares, after some days, that the fugitives were in hiding; and
a small detachment was at once despatched for their relief. It was now
found, as in many other instances, that amid all the brutality and
recklessness of the mutineers and budmashes, there were not wanting
humane natives in the country villages, ready to succour the distressed;
one such, named Hingun Lall, had sheltered and fed the whole of the
fugitives from Jounpoor for five days.
There were many stations at which the number of insurgent troops was
greater; there were many occasions on which the Europeans suffered more
general and prolonged miseries; there were many struggles of more
exciting character between the dark-skinned soldiers and the light—but
there was not perhaps, throughout the whole history of the Indian
mutinies, an outbreak which excited more astonishment than that at
Allahabad in the early part of June. It was totally unexpected by the
authorities, who had been blinded by protestations of loyalty on the
part of the troops. This place (see p. 107) occupies a very important
position in relation to Upper India generally; being at the point where
the Jumna and Ganges join, where the Benares region ends and the Oude
region begins, where the Doab and Bundelcund commence, where the
river-traffic and the road-traffic branch out in various directions, and
where the great railway will one day have a central station. As stated
in a former page, the 6th Bengal Native Infantry, stationed at
Allahabad, voluntarily came forward and offered their services to march
against the Delhi mutineers. For this demonstration they were thanked by
their officers, who felt gratified that, amid so much desertion,
fidelity should make itself apparent in this quarter. Rather from a
vague undefined uneasiness, than from any suspicion of this particular
regiment, the Europeans at Allahabad had for some time been in
uneasiness; there had been panics in the city; there had been much
patrolling and watching; and the ladies had been looking anxiously to
the fort as a place of refuge, whither most of them had taken up their
abode at night, returning to their homes in the cantonment or the city
in the daytime. From Benares, Lucknow, or other places, they apprehended
danger—but not from within.
It was on the 5th of June that Colonel Simpson, of the 6th regiment,
received Viscount Canning’s instructions to thank his men for their
loyal offer to march and fight against the rebels at Delhi; and it was
on the same day that news reached Allahabad, probably by telegraph, of
the occurrences at Benares on the previous day, and of the possible
arrival of some of the insurgents from that place. The officers still
continued to trust the 6th regiment, not only in virtue of the recent
protestation of fidelity by the men, but on account of their general
good conduct; indeed, this was one of the most trusted regiments in the
whole native army. Nevertheless, instructions were given to arm the
civilians as well as the military, and to prepare for making a good
stand at the fort. Many civilians, formed into a militia, under the
commandant of the garrison, slept in the fort that night, or relieved
each other as sentinels at the ramparts. There were at that time in the
fort, besides the women and children, about thirty invalid artillerymen,
under Captain Hazelwood; a few commissariat and magazine sergeants;
about a hundred volunteer civilians; four hundred Sikhs, of the
Ferozpore regiment, under Lieutenant Brasyer; and eighty men of the 6th
regiment, guarding the main gate. Several Europeans with their families,
thinking no danger nigh, slept outside the fort that night. Two
companies of the native regiment under three English officers, and two
guns under Captain Harward, were sent to guard the bridge of boats
across the Ganges in the direction of Benares. Captain Alexander, with
two squadrons of the 3d regiment Oude irregular cavalry, was posted in
the Alopee Bagh, a camping-ground commanding the roads to the station.
The main body of the 6th remained in their lines, three miles from the
fort. All proceeded quietly until about nine o’clock on the evening of
the 6th of June; when, to the inexpressible astonishment and dismay of
the officers, the native regiment rose in revolt. The two guns were
seized by them at the bridge-head, and Harward had to run for his life.
In the cantonment the officers were at mess, full of confidence in their
trusted troops, when the sepoys sounded the alarm bugle, as if to bring
them on parade; those who rushed out were at once aimed at, and nearly
all shot dead; while no fewer than nine young ensigns, mere boys who had
just entered on the career of soldiering, were bayoneted in the
mess-room itself. It was a cruel and bloody deed, for the poor youths
had but recently arrived, and were in hostility with none. Captain
Alexander, when he heard of the rising, hastened off to the lines with a
few of his troopers; but he was caught in an ambush by a body of the
sepoys, and at once shot down. The sepoys, joined by released prisoners
and habitual plunderers, then commenced a scene of murder and
devastation in all directions; Europeans were shot wherever they could
be seen; the few English women who had not been so fortunate as to seek
refuge in the fort, were grossly outraged before being put to death; the
telegraph wires were cut; the boats on the river were seized; the
treasury was plundered; the houses of native bankers, as well as those
of European residents, were pillaged; and wild licence reigned
everywhere. Terrible were the deeds recorded—a whole family roasted
alive; persons killed by the slow process of cutting off in succession
ears, nose, fingers, feet, &c.; others chopped to pieces; children
tossed on bayonets before their mother’s eyes.
An affecting incident is related of one of the unfortunate young
officers so ruthlessly attacked at the mess-house. An ensign, only
sixteen years of age, who was left for dead among the rest, escaped in
the darkness to a neighbouring ravine. Here he found a stream, the
waters of which sustained his life for four days and nights. Although
desperately wounded, he contrived to raise himself into a tree at
night-time, for protection from wild beasts. On the fifth day he was
discovered, and dragged by the brutal insurgents before one of their
leaders. There he found another prisoner, a Christian catechist,
formerly a Mohammedan, whom the sepoys were endeavouring to terrify and
torment into a renunciation of Christianity. The firmness of the native
was giving way as he knelt before his persecutors; but the boy-officer,
after anxiously watching him for a short time said: ‘Oh, my friend, come
what may, do not deny the Lord Jesus!’ Just at this moment the arrival
of Colonel Neill and the Madras Fusiliers (presently to be noticed) at
Allahabad was announced; the ruffians made off; the poor catechist’s
life was saved; but the gentle-spirited young ensign sank under the
wounds and privations he had endured. When this incident became known
through the medium of the public journals, the father of the young
officer, town-clerk of Evesham, told how brief had been the career thus
cut short. Arthur Marcus Hill Cheek had left England so recently as the
20th of March preceding, to commence the life of a soldier; he arrived
at Calcutta in May, was appointed to the 6th native regiment, reached
Allahabad on the 19th of the same month, and was shot down by his own
men eighteen days afterwards.
The inmates of the fort naturally suffered an agony of suspense on the
night of the 6th. When they heard the bugle, and the subsequent firing,
they believed the mutineers had arrived from Benares; and as the
intensity of the sound varied from time to time, so did they picture in
imagination the varying fortunes of the two hypothetical opposing
forces—the supposed insurgents from the east, and the supposed loyal 6th
regiment. Soon were they startled by a revelation of the real truth—that
the firing came from their own trusted sepoys. The Europeans in the
fort, recovering from their wonder and dismay, were fortunately enabled
to disarm the eighty sepoys at the gate through the energy of Lieutenant
Brasyer; and it was then found that these fellows had loaded and capped
their muskets, ready to turn out. Five officers succeeded in entering
during the night, three of them naked, having had to swim the Ganges.
For twelve days did the Europeans remain within the fort, not daring to
emerge for many hours at a time, lest the four hundred Sikhs should
prove faithless in the hour of greatest need. The chief streets of the
city are about half a mile from the fort; and during several days and
nights troops of rioters were to be seen rushing from place to place,
plundering and burning. Day and night the civilians manned the ramparts,
succeeding each other in regular watches—now nearly struck down by the
hot blazing sun; now pouring forth shot and shell upon such of the
insurgents as were within reach. The civilians or volunteers formed
themselves into three corps; one of which, called the Flagstaff
Division, was joined by about twenty railway men—sturdy fellows who had
suffered like the rest, and were not slow to avenge themselves on the
mutineers whenever opportunity offered. After a time, the volunteers
sallied forth into the city with the Sikhs, and had several skirmishes
in the streets with the insurgents—delighted at the privilege of
quitting for a few hours the hot crowded fort, even to fight. It was by
degrees ascertained that conspiracy had been going on in the city before
the actual outbreak occurred. The standard of insurrection was unfurled
by a native unknown to the Europeans: some supposed him to be a moulvie,
or Mohammedan religious teacher; but whatever may have been his former
position, he now announced himself as viceroy of the King of Delhi. He
quickly collected about him three or four thousand rebels, sepoys and
others, and displayed the green flag that constitutes the Moslem symbol.
The head-quarters of this self-appointed chieftain were in the higher
part of the city, at the old Mohammedan gardens of Sultan Khoosroo;
there the prisoners taken by the mutineers were confined—among whom were
the native Christian teachers belonging to the Rev. Mr Hay’s mission.
The movements of Colonel Neill must now be traced. No sooner did this
gallant and energetic officer hear of the occurrences at Allahabad, than
he proceeded to effect at that place what he had already done at
Benares—re-establish English authority by a prompt, firm, and stern
course of action. The distance between the two cities being about
seventy-five miles, he quickly made the necessary travelling
arrangements. He left Benares on the evening of the 9th, accompanied by
one officer and forty-three men of the Madras Fusiliers. The horses
being nearly all taken off the road, he found much difficulty in
bringing in the dâk-carriages containing the men; but this and all other
obstacles he surmounted. He found the country between Mirzapore and
Allahabad infested with bands of plunderers, the villages deserted, and
none of the authorities remaining. Major Stephenson, with a hundred more
men, set out from Benares on the same evening as Neill; but his
bullock-vans were still more slow in progress; and his men suffered much
from exposure to heat during the journey. Neill reached Allahabad on the
afternoon of the 11th. He found the fort almost completely invested; the
bridge of boats over the Ganges in the hands of a mob, and partly
broken; and the neighbouring villages swarming with insurgents. By
cautious manœuvring at the end of the Benares road, he succeeded in
obtaining boats which conveyed him and his handful of men over to the
fort. He at once assumed command, and arranged that on the following
morning the enemy should be driven out of the villages, and the bridge
of boats recaptured. Accordingly, on the morning of the 12th he opened
fire with several round-shot, and then attacked the rebels in the
village of Deeragunge with a detachment of Fusiliers and Sikhs: this was
effectively accomplished, and a safe road opened for the approach of
Major Stephenson’s detachment on the evening of that day. On the 13th
the insurgents were driven out of the village of Kydgunge. Neill had now
a strange enemy to combat within the fort itself—drunkenness and relaxed
discipline. The Sikhs, during their sallies into the city before his
arrival, had gained entrance into some of the deserted warehouses of
wine-merchants and others in the town, had brought away large quantities
of beverage, and had sold these to the European soldiers within the
fort—at four _annas_ (sixpence) per bottle for wine, spirits, or beer
indiscriminately; drunkenness and disorganisation followed, requiring
determined measures on the part of the commandant. He bought all the
remaining liquors obtainable, for commissariat use; and kept a watchful
eye on the stores still remaining in the warehouses in the town. Neill
saw reason for distrusting the Sikhs; they had remained faithful up to
that time, but nevertheless exhibited symptoms which required attention.
As soon as possible, he got them out of the fort altogether, and placed
them at various posts in the city where they might still render service
if they chose to remain faithful. His opinion of the native troops was
sufficiently expressed in this passage in one of his dispatches: ‘I felt
that Allahabad was really safe when every native soldier and sentry was
out of the fort; and as long as I command I shall not allow one to be on
duty in it.’ Nothing can be more striking than the difference of views
held by Indian officers on this point; some distrusted the natives from
the first, while others maintained faith in them to a very disastrous
extent.
From the time when Neill obtained the upper-hand in Allahabad, he was
incessantly engaged in chastising the insurgents in the neighbourhood.
He sent a steamer up the Jumna on the 15th, with a howitzer under
Captain Harward, and twenty fusiliers under Lieutenant Arnold; and these
worked much execution among the rebels on the banks. A combined body of
fusiliers, Sikhs, and irregular cavalry made an attack on the villages
of Kydgunge and Mootingunge, on the banks of the Jumna, driving out the
insurgents harboured there, and mowing them down in considerable
numbers. On subsequent days, wherever Neill heard of the presence of
insurgents in any of the surrounding villages, he at once attacked them;
and great terror seized the hearts of the malcontents in the city at the
celerity with which guns and gibbets were set to work. On the 18th he
sent eighty fusiliers and a hundred Sikhs up the river in a steamer, to
destroy the Patan village of Durriabad, and the Meewattie villages of
Sydabad and Russelpore. It was not merely in the villages that these
active operations were necessary; a large number of the mutinous sepoys
went off towards Delhi on the day after the outbreak, leaving the
self-elected chief to manage his rabble-army as he liked; and it was
against this rabble that many of the expeditions were planned. The city
suffered terribly from this double infliction; for after the spoliation
and burning effected by the marauders, the English employed cannon-balls
and musketry to drive those marauders out of the streets and houses; and
Allahabad thus became little other than a mass of blackened ruins.
Colonel Neill organised a body of irregular cavalry by joining Captain
Palliser’s detachment of the 13th irregulars with the few men of Captain
Alexander’s corps still remaining true to their salt. A force of about a
hundred and sixty Madras Fusiliers started from Benares on the 13th,
under Captain Fraser; he was joined on the road by Captain Palliser’s
detachment of troopers, just adverted to, of about eighty men, and the
two officers then proceeded towards Allahabad. They found the road
almost wholly in the hands of rebels and plunderers; but by fighting,
hanging, and burning, they cleared a path for themselves, struck terror
into the evildoers, and recovered much of the Company’s treasure that
had fallen into hostile hands. It is sad to read of six villages being
reduced to ashes during this one march; but stringent measures were
absolutely necessary to a restoration of order and obedience. Fraser and
Palliser reached Allahabad on the 18th, and their arrival enabled Neill
to prosecute two objects which he had at heart—the securing of
Allahabad, and the gradual collection of a force that might march to the
relief of poor Sir Hugh Wheeler and the other beleaguered Europeans at
Cawnpore. During these varied operations, the officers and men were
often exposed during the daytime to a heat so tremendous that nothing
but an intense interest in their work could have kept them up. ‘If I can
keep from fever,’ wrote one of them, ‘I shan’t care; for excitement
enables one to stand the sun and fatigue wonderfully. At any other time
the sun would have knocked us down like dogs; but all this month we have
been out in the middle of the day, toiling like coolies, yet I have
never been better in my life—such an appetite!’ To meet temporary
exigencies, the church, the government offices, the barracks, the
bungalows—all were placed at the disposal of the English troops, as fast
as they arrived up from Calcutta. These reinforcements, during the
second half of the month, consisted chiefly of detachments of her
Majesty’s 64th, 78th, and 84th foot. The peaceful inhabitants began to
return to the half-ruined city, shattered houses were hastily rebuilt or
repaired, trade gradually revived, bullocks and carriages arrived in
considerable number, supplies were laid in, the weather became cooler,
the cholera abated, and Colonel Neill found himself enabled to look
forward with much confidence to the future. The fort, during almost the
whole of the month, had been very much crowded, insomuch that the
inmates suffered greatly from heat and cholera. Two steam-boat loads of
women and children were therefore sent down the river towards Calcutta;
and all the non-combatants left the fort, to reoccupy such of their
residences as had escaped demolition. Some of the European soldiers were
tented on the glacis; others took up quarters in a tope of trees near
the dâk-bungalow; lastly, a hospital was fitted up for the cholera
patients.
With the end of June came tranquillity both to Benares and to Allahabad,
chiefly through the determined measures adopted by Colonel Neill; and
then he planned an expedition, the best in his power, for Cawnpore—the
fortunes of which will come under our notice in due time.
Notes.
_The Oude Royal Family._—When the news reached England that the
deposed King of Oude had been arrested at Calcutta, in the way
described in the present chapter, on suspicion of complicity with
the mutineers, his relations, who had proceeded to London to appeal
against the annexation of Oude by the Company, prepared a petition
filled with protestations of innocence, on his part and on their
own. The petition was presented to the House of Lords by Lord
Campbell, though not formally received owing to some defect in
phraseology. A memorial to Queen Victoria was couched in similar
form. The petition and memorial ran as follows:
‘The petition of the undersigned Jenabi Auliah Tajara Begum, the
Queen-mother of Oude; Mirza Mohummud Hamid Allie, eldest son and
heir-apparent of his Majesty the King of Oude; and Mirra Mohummud
Jowaad Allie Sekunder Hushmut Bahadoor, next brother of his Majesty
the King of Oude, sheweth:
‘That your petitioners have heard with sincere regret the tidings
which have reached the British kingdom of disaffection prevailing
among the native troops in India; and that they desire, at the
earliest opportunity, to give public expression to that solemn
assurance which they some time since conveyed to her Majesty’s
government, that the fidelity and attachment to Great Britain which
has ever characterised the royal family of Oude continues unchanged
and unaffected by these deplorable events, and that they remain, as
Lord Dalhousie, the late governor-general of India, emphatically
declared them, “a royal race, ever faithful and true to their
friendship with the British nation.”
‘That in the midst of this great public calamity, your petitioners
have sustained their own peculiar cause of pain and sorrow in the
intelligence which has reached them, through the public papers, that
his Majesty the King of Oude has been subjected to restraint at
Calcutta, and deprived of the means of communicating even with your
petitioners, his mother, son, and brother.
‘That your petitioners desire unequivocally and solemnly to assure
her Majesty and your lordships, that if his Majesty the King of Oude
has been suspected of any complicity in the recent disastrous
occurrences, such suspicion is not only wholly and absolutely
unfounded, but is directed against one, the whole tenor of whose
life, character, and conduct directly negatives all such
imputations. Your petitioners recall to the recollection of your
lordships the facts relating to the dethronement of the King of
Oude, as set forth in the petition presented to the House of Commons
by Sir Fitzroy Kelly on the 25th of May last, that when resistance
might have been made, and was even anticipated by the British
general, the King of Oude directed his guards and troops to lay
aside their arms, and that when it was announced to him that the
territories of Oude were to be vested for ever in the Honourable
East India Company, the king, instead of offering resistance to the
British government, after giving vent to his feelings in a burst of
grief, descended from his throne, declaring his determination to
seek for justice at her Majesty’s throne, and from the parliament of
England.
‘That since their resort to this country, in obedience to his
Majesty’s commands, your petitioners have received communications
from his Majesty which set forth the hopes and aspirations of his
heart; that those communications not only negative all supposition
of his Majesty’s personal complicity in any intrigues, but fill the
minds of your petitioners with the profound conviction that his
Majesty would feel, with your petitioners, the greatest grief and
pain at the events which have occurred. And your petitioners desire
to declare to your lordships, and to assure the British nation, that
although suffering, in common with his heart-broken family, from the
wrongs inflicted on them, from the humiliations of a state of exile,
and their loss of home, authority, and country, the King of Oude
relies only on the justice of his cause, appeals only to her
Majesty’s throne and to the parliament of Great Britain, and
disdains to use the arm of the rebel and the traitor to maintain the
right he seeks to vindicate.
‘Your petitioners therefore pray of your lordships that, in the
exercise of your authority, you will cause justice to be done to his
Majesty the King of Oude, and that it may be forthwith explicitly
made known to his Majesty and to your petitioners wherewith he is
charged, and by whom, and on what authority, so that the King of
Oude may have full opportunity of refuting and disproving the unjust
suspicions and calumnies of which he is now the helpless victim. And
your petitioners further pray that the King of Oude may be permitted
freely to correspond with your petitioners in this country, so that
they may also have opportunity of vindicating here the character and
conduct of their sovereign and relative, of establishing his
innocence of any offence against the crown of England, or the
British government or people, and of shewing that, under every
varying phase of circumstance, the royal family of Oude have
continued steadfast and true to their friendship with the British
nation.
‘And your petitioners will ever pray, &c.’
Some time after the presentation of this petition and memorial, a
curious proof was afforded of the complexity and intrigue connected
with the family affairs of the princes of India. A statement having
gone abroad to the effect that a son of the King of Oude had escaped
from Lucknow during the troubles of the Revolt, a native
representative of the family in London sought to set the public mind
right on the matter. He stated that the king had had only three
legitimate sons; that one of these, being an idiot, was confined to
the zenana or harem at Lucknow; that the second died of small-pox
when twelve years of age; that the third was the prince who had come
to London with the queen-mother; and that if any son of the king had
really escaped from Lucknow, he must have been illegitimate, a boy
about ten years old. This communication was signed by Mahmoud
Museehooddeen, residing at Paddington, and designating himself
‘Accredited Agent to his Majesty the King of Oude.’ Two days
afterwards the same journal contained a letter from Colonel R.
Ouseley, also residing in the metropolis, asserting that _he_ was
‘Agent in Chief to the King of Oude,’ and that Museehooddeen had
assumed a title to which he had no right.
_Castes and Creeds in the Indian Army_.—The Indian officers being
much divided in opinion concerning the relative insubordination of
Mohammedans and Hindoos in the native regiments, it may be useful to
record here the actual components of one Bengal infantry regiment,
so far as concerns creed and caste. The information is obtained from
an official document relating to the cartridge grievance, before the
actual Revolt began.
The 34th regiment Bengal native infantry, just before its
disbandment at Barrackpore in April, comprised 1089 men, distributed
as follows:
┌─────────────────┬────────┬─────┬─────┬──────┬─────┬─────┬─────┬─────┐
│ │Subadar-│Suba-│Jema-│Havil-│ Na- │Drum-│ Se- │ To- │
│ │ major. │dars.│dars.│dars. │iks. │mers.│poys.│tal. │
├─────────────────┼────────┼─────┼─────┼──────┼─────┼─────┼─────┼─────┤
│Brahmin Caste, │ 1│ 2│ 4│ 24│ 10│ —│ 294│ 335│
│Lower Castes, │ —│ 5│ 5│ 25│ 26│ 1│ 406│ 468│
│Christians, │ —│ —│ —│ —│ —│ 10│ 2│ 12│
│Mussulmans, │ —│ 2│ 1│ 12│ 24│ 8│ 153│ 200│
│Sikhs, │ —│ —│ —│ —│ —│ —│ 74│ 74│
├─────────────────┼────────┼─────┼─────┼──────┼─────┼─────┼─────┼─────┤
│ │ 1│ 9│ 10│ 61│ 60│ 19│ 929│ 1089│
└─────────────────┴────────┴─────┴─────┴──────┴─────┴─────┴─────┴─────┘
The portion of this regiment present at Barrackpore—the rest being
at Chittagong—when the mutinous proceedings took place, numbered
584, thus classified under four headings:
┌─────────────────┬────────┬─────┬─────┬──────┬─────┬─────┬─────┬─────┐
│ │Subadar-│Suba-│Jema-│Havil-│ Na- │Drum-│ Se- │ To- │
│ │ major. │dars.│dars.│dars. │iks. │mers.│poys.│tal. │
├─────────────────┼────────┼─────┼─────┼──────┼─────┼─────┼─────┼─────┤
│Brahmin Caste, │ 1│ 2│ 1│ 12│ 5│ —│ 175│ 196│
│Lower Castes, │ —│ 1│ 4│ 13│ 14│ 1│ 193│ 226│
│Mussulmans, │ —│ 1│ —│ 7│ 14│ 4│ 85│ 111│
│Sikhs, │ —│ —│ —│ —│ —│ —│ 51│ 51│
├─────────────────┼────────┼─────┼─────┼──────┼─────┼─────┼─────┼─────┤
│ │ 1│ 4│ 5│ 32│ 33│ 5│ 504│ 584│
└─────────────────┴────────┴─────┴─────┴──────┴─────┴─────┴─────┴─────┘
When 414 of these men were dismissed from the Company’s service,
their religions appeared as follows:
┌─────────────────┬─────────────┬─────────────────┬─────────┬────────┐
│ │Commissioned │Non-commissioned │ Sepoys. │ Total. │
│ │ Officers. │ Officers. │ │ │
├─────────────────┼─────────────┼─────────────────┼─────────┼────────┤
│Brahmin Caste, │ 2│ 12│ 135│ 149│
│Lower Castes, │ 4│ 19│ 150│ 173│
│Mussulmans, │ —│ 14│ 49│ 63│
│Sikhs, │ —│ —│ 29│ 29│
├─────────────────┼─────────────┼─────────────────┼─────────┼────────┤
│ │ 6│ 45│ 363│ 414│
└─────────────────┴─────────────┴─────────────────┴─────────┴────────┘
It is not clearly stated how many Rajpoots, or men of the military
caste, were included in the Hindoos who were not Brahmins.
If the regiment thus tabulated had been cavalry, instead of
infantry, the preponderance, as implied in Chapter I., would have
been wholly on the side of the Mussulmans.
[Illustration:
Sikh Cavalry.
]
-----
Footnote 19:
The following is an extract of a letter written by Major Macdonald,
after the attack upon him and his brother-officers: ‘Two days after,
my native officer said he had found out the murderers, and that they
were three men of my own regiment. I had them in irons in a crack,
held a drumhead court-martial, convicted, and sentenced them to be
hanged the next morning. I took on my own shoulders the responsibility
of hanging them first, and asking leave to do so afterwards. That day
was an awful one of suspense and anxiety. One of the prisoners was of
very high caste and influence, and this man I determined to treat with
the greatest ignominy, by getting the lowest caste man to hang him. To
tell you the truth, I never for a moment expected to leave the hanging
scene alive; but I was determined to do my duty, and well knew the
effect that pluck and decision had on the natives. The regiment was
drawn out; wounded cruelly as I was, I had to see everything done
myself, even to the adjusting of the ropes, and saw them looped to run
easy. Two of the culprits were paralysed with fear and astonishment,
never dreaming that I should dare to hang them without an order from
government. The third said he would not be hanged, and called on the
Prophet and on his comrades to rescue him. This was an awful moment;
an instant’s hesitation on my part, and probably I should have had a
dozen of balls through me; so I seized a pistol, clapped it to the
man’s ear, and said, with a look there was no mistake about: “Another
word out of your mouth, and your brains shall be scattered on the
ground.” He trembled, and held his tongue. The elephant came up, he
was put on his back, the rope adjusted, the elephant moved, and he was
left dangling. I then had the others up, and off in the same way. And
after some time, when I had dismissed the men of the regiment to their
lines, and still found my head on my shoulders, I really could
scarcely believe it.’
Footnote 20:
Dinapoor is remarkable for the fine barracks built by the Company for
the accommodation of troops—for the officers, the European troops, and
the native troops; most of the officers have commodious bungalows in
the vicinity; and the markets or bazaars, for the supply of Europeans
as well as natives, are unusually large and well supplied.
Footnote 21:
‘At present the men of bad character in some regiments, and other
people in the direction of Meerut and Delhi, have turned from their
allegiance to the bountiful government, and created a seditious
disturbance, and have made choice of the ways of ingratitude, and
thrown away the character of sepoys true to their salt.
‘At present it is well known that some European regiments have started
to punish and coerce these rebels; we trust that by the favour of the
bountiful government, we also may be sent to punish the enemies of
government, wherever they are; for if we cannot be of use to
government at this time, how will it be manifest and known to the
state that we are true to our salt? Have we not been entertained in
the army for days like the present? In addition to this, government
shall see what their faithful sepoys are like, and we will work with
heart and soul to do our duty to the state that gives us our salt.
‘Let the enemies of government be who they may, we are ready to fight
them, and to sacrifice our lives in the cause.
‘We have said as much as is proper; may the sun of your wealth and
prosperity ever shine.
‘The petition of your servants:
HEERA SING, Subadar,
ELLAHEE KHAN, Subadar,
BHOWANY SING, Jemadar,
MUNROOP SING, Jemadar,
HEERA SING, Jemadar,
ISSEREE PANDY, Jemadar,
MURDAN SING, Jemadar,
of the Burra Crawford’s, or 7th regiment, native infantry, and of
every non-commissioned officer and sepoy in the lines. Presented on
the 3d June 1857.’
Footnote 22:
The exact components of this gallant little band appear to have been
as follow:
Guns. Officers. Men.
Artillery, 3 1 30
Queen’s troops, 0 3 150
Madras Fusiliers, 0 3 60
— — ———
3 7 240
Irrespective of the officers belonging to the mutinous regiments.
CHAPTER X.
OUDE, ROHILCUND, AND THE DOAB: JUNE.
The course of events now brings us again to that turbulent country,
Oude, which proved itself to be hostile to the British in a degree not
expected by the authorities at Calcutta. They were aware, it is true,
that Oude had long furnished the chief materials for the Bengal native
army; but they could not have anticipated, or at least did not, how
close would be the sympathy between those troops and the Oude irregulars
in the hour of tumult. Only seven months before the beginning of the
Revolt, and about the same space of time after the formal annexation, a
remarkable article on Indian Army Reform appeared in the _Calcutta
Review_, attributed to Sir Henry Lawrence; in which he commented freely
on the government proceedings connected with the army of Oude. He
pointed out how great was the number of daring reckless men in that
country; how large had been the army of the king before his deposition;
how numerous were the small forts held by zemindars and petty
chieftains, and guarded by nearly sixty thousand men; how perilous it
was to raise a new British-Oudian army, even though a small one, solely
from the men of the king’s disbanded regiments; how serious was the fact
that nearly a hundred thousand disbanded warlike natives were left
without employment; how prudent it would have been to send Oudians into
the Punjaub, and Punjaubees into Oude; and how necessary was an increase
in the number of British troops. The truth of these comments was not
appreciated until Sir Henry himself was ranked among those who felt the
full consequence of the state of things to which the comments referred.
Oude was full of zemindars, possessing considerable resources of various
kinds, having their retainers, their mud-forts, their arsenals, their
treasures. These zemindars, aggrieved not so much by the annexation of
their country, as by the manner in which territorial law-proceedings
were made to affect the tenure of their estates, shewed sympathy with
the mutineers almost from the first. The remarks of Mr Edwards,
collector at Boodayoun, on this point, have already been adverted to (p.
115). The zemindars did not, as a class, display the sanguinary and
vindictive passions so terribly evident in the reckless soldiery; still
they held to a belief that a successful revolt might restore to them
their former position and influence as landowners; and hence the
formidable difficulties opposed by them to the military movements of the
British.
Sir Henry Lawrence, as chief authority both military and civil in Oude,
found himself very awkwardly imperiled at Lucknow in the early days of
June. Just as the previous month closed, nearly all the native troops
raised the standard of rebellion (see p. 96); the 13th, 48th, and 71st
infantry, and the 7th cavalry, all betrayed the infection, though in
different degrees; and of the seven hundred men of those four regiments
who still remained faithful, he did not know how many he could trust
even for a single day. The treasury received his anxious attention, and
misgivings arose in his mind concerning the various districts around the
capital, with their five millions of inhabitants. Soon he had the
bitterness of learning that his rebellious troops, who had fled towards
Seetapoor, had excited their brethren at that place to revolt. The
Calcutta authorities were from that day very ill informed of the
proceedings at Lucknow; for the telegraph wires were cut, and the
insurgents stopped all dâks and messengers on the road. About the middle
of the month, Colonel Neill, at Allahabad, received a private letter
from Lawrence, sent by some secret agency, announcing that Seetapoor and
Shahjehanpoor were in the hands of the rebels; that Secrora, Beraytch,
and Fyzabad, were in like condition; and that mutinous regiments from
all those places, as well as from Benares and Jounpoor, appeared to be
approaching Lucknow on some combined plan of operations. He was
strengthening his position at the Residency, but looked most anxiously
for aid, which Neill was quite unable to afford him. Again, it became
known to the authorities at Benares that Lawrence, on the 19th, still
held his position at Lucknow; that he had had eight deaths by cholera;
and that he was considering whether, aid from Cawnpore or Allahabad
being unattainable, he could obtain a few reinforcements by steamer up
the Gogra from Dinapoor. Another letter, but without date, reached the
chief-magistrate of Benares, to the effect that Lawrence had got rid of
most of the remaining native troops, by paying them their due, and
giving them leave of absence for three months; he evidently felt
disquietude at the presence even of the apparently faithful sepoys in
his place of refuge, so bitterly had he experienced the hollowness of
all protestations on their part. He had been very ill, and a provisional
council had been appointed in case his health should further give way.
Although the Residency was the stronghold, the city and cantonment also
were still under British control: a fort called the Muchee Bhowan, about
three-quarters of a mile from the Residency, and consisting of a strong,
turreted, castellated building, was held by two hundred and twenty-five
Europeans with three guns. The cantonment was northeast of the
Residency, on the opposite side of the river, over which were two
bridges of approach. Sir Henry had already lessened from eight to four
the number of buildings or posts where the troops were stationed—namely,
the Residency, the Muchee Bhowan, a strong post between these two, and
the dâk-bungalow between the Residency and the cantonment; but after the
mutiny, he depended chiefly on the Residency and the Muchee Bhowan.
News, somewhat more definite in character, was conveyed in a letter
written by Sir Henry on the 20th of June. So completely were the roads
watched, that he had not received a word of information from Cawnpore,
Allahabad, Benares, or any other important place throughout the whole
month down to that date; he knew not what progress was being made by the
rebels, beyond the region of which Lucknow was more immediately the
centre; he still held the fort, city, Residency, and cantonment, but was
terribly threatened on all sides by large bodies of mutineers. On the
27th he wrote another letter to the authorities at Allahabad, one of the
very few (out of a large number despatched) that succeeded in reaching
their destination. This letter was still full of heart, for he told of
the Residency and the Muchee Bhowan being still held by him in force; of
cholera being on the decrease; of his supplies being adequate for two
months and a half; and of his power to ‘hold his own.’ On the other
hand, he felt assured that at that moment Lucknow was the only place
throughout the whole of Oude where British influence was paramount; and
that he dared not leave the city for twenty-four hours without danger of
losing all his advantages. His sanguine, hopeful spirit shone out in the
midst of all his trials; he declared that with one additional European
regiment, and a hundred artillerymen, he could re-establish British
supremacy in Oude; and he added, in a sportive tone, which shewed what
estimate he formed of some, at least, of the contingent corps, ‘a
thousand Europeans, a thousand Goorkhas, and a thousand Sikhs, with
eight or ten guns, will thrash anything.’ The Sikhs were irregulars
raised in the Punjaub; and throughout the contests arising out of the
Revolt, their fidelity towards the government was seldom placed in
doubt.
The last day of June was a day of sad omen to the English in Lucknow. On
the evening of the 29th, information arrived that a rebel force of six
or seven thousand men was encamped eight miles distant on the Fyzabad
road, near the Kookra Canal. Lawrence thereupon determined to attack
them on the following day. He started at six o’clock on the morning of
the 30th, with about seven hundred men and eleven guns.[23] Misled,
either by accident or design, by informants on the road, he suddenly
fell into an ambush of the enemy, assembled in considerable force near
Chinhut. Manfully struggling against superior numbers, Lawrence looked
forward confidently to victory; but just at the most critical moment,
the Oude artillerymen proved traitors—overturning their six guns into
ditches, cutting the traces of the horses, and then going over to the
enemy. Completely outflanked, exposed to a terrible fire on all sides,
weakened by the defection, having now few guns to use, and being almost
without ammunition, Sir Henry saw that retreat was imperative. A
disastrous retreat it was, or rather a complete rout; the heat was
fearful, the confusion was dire; and the officers and men fell rapidly,
to rise no more. Colonel Case, of H.M. 32d, receiving a mortal wound,
was immediately succeeded by Captain Steevens; he in like manner soon
fell, and was succeeded by Captain Mansfield, who escaped the day’s
perils, but afterwards died of cholera.
Sir Henry Lawrence now found himself in a grave difficulty. The English
position at Lucknow needed all the strengthening he could impart to it.
He had held, as already explained, not only the Residency, but the fort
of Muchee Bhowan and other posts. The calamity of the 30th, however,
having weakened him too much to garrison all, or even more than one, he
removed the troops, and then blew up the Muchee Bhowan, at midnight on
the 1st of July, sending 240 barrels of gunpowder and 3,000,000
ball-cartridges into the air. From that hour the whole of the English
made the Residency their stronghold. Later facts rendered it almost
certain that, if this abandonment and explosion had not taken place,
scarcely a European would have lived to tell the tale of the subsequent
miseries at Lucknow. By incessant exertions, he collected in the
Residency six months’ food for a thousand persons. The last hour of the
gallant man was, however, approaching. A shell, sent by the insurgents,
penetrated into his room on this day; his officers advised him to remove
to another spot, but he declined the advice; and on the next day, the 2d
of July, another shell, entering and bursting within the same room, gave
him a mortal wound. Knowing his last hour was approaching, Sir Henry
appointed Brigadier Inglis his successor in military matters, and Major
Banks his successor as chief-commissioner of Oude.
Grief, deep and earnest, took possession of every breast in the
Residency, when, on the 4th of July, it was announced that the good and
great Sir Henry Lawrence had breathed his last. He was a man of whom no
one doubted; like his gifted brother, Sir John, he had the rare power of
drawing to himself the respect and love of those by whom he was
surrounded, almost without exception. ‘Few men,’ said Brigadier Inglis,
at a later date, ‘have ever possessed to the same extent the power which
he enjoyed of winning the hearts of all those with whom he came in
contact, and thus insuring the warmest and most zealous devotion for
himself and the government which he served. All ranks possessed such
confidence in his judgment and his fertility of resource, that the news
of his fall was received throughout the garrison with feelings of
consternation only second to the grief which was inspired in the hearts
of all by the loss of a public benefactor and a warm personal friend....
I trust the government of India will pardon me for having attempted,
however imperfectly, to portray this great and good man. In him every
good and deserving soldier lost a friend and a chief capable of
discriminating, and ever on the alert to reward merit, no matter how
humble the sphere in which it was exhibited.’ Such was the soldier whom
all men delighted to honour,[24] and to whom the graceful compliment was
once paid, that ‘Sir Henry Lawrence enjoyed the rare felicity of
transcending all rivalry except that of his illustrious brother.’
How the overcrowded Residency at Lucknow bore all the attacks directed
against it; how the inmates, under the brave and energetic Inglis, held
on against heat, disease, cannon-balls, thirst, hunger, and fatigue; how
and by whom they were liberated—will come for notice in proper course.
The other districts of Oude fell one by one into the hands of the
insurgents. The narratives subsequently given by such English officers
as were fortunate enough to escape the perils of those evil days, bore a
general resemblance one to another; inasmuch as they told of faith in
native troops being rudely broken, irresolute loyalty dissolving into
confirmed hostility, treasuries of Company’s rupees tempting those who
might otherwise possibly have been true to their salt, military officers
and their wives obliged to flee for succour to Nynee Tal or some other
peaceful station, the families of civilians suddenly thrown homeless
upon the world, and blood and plunder marking the footsteps of the
marauders who followed the example set by the rebellious sepoys and
troopers. A few examples will suffice to illustrate the general
character of these outbreaks.
The mutiny at Fyzabad, besides being attended with a sad loss of life,
was note-worthy for certain peculiarities in the tactics of the
insurgents—a kind of cool audacity not always exhibited in other
instances. A brief description will shew the position and character of
this city. In a former chapter (p. 83) it was explained that Oude or
Ayodha, the city that gave name to the province, is very ancient as a
Hindoo capital, but has become poor and ruinous in recent times; and
that the fragments of many of its old structures were employed in
building Fyzabad, the Mohammedan Ayodha, nearly adjoining it on the
southwest. It was scarcely more than a hundred and thirty years ago that
the foundation of Fyzabad was established, by Saadut Ali Khan, the first
nawab-vizier of Oude; its advance in prosperity was rapid; but since the
selection of Lucknow as the capital in 1775, Fyzabad has fallen in
dignity; the chief merchants and bankers have migrated to Lucknow, and
the remaining inhabitants are mostly poor.
On the 3d of June, rumours circulated in Fyzabad that the mutinous 17th
regiment B. N. I. was approaching from Azimghur. Colonel Lennox, the
military commandant, at once conferred with the other officers, and
formed a plan for defending the place. The immediate alarm died away. On
the 7th, however, renewed information led the colonel to propose an
advance to Surooj-khoond, a place about five miles away, to repel the
mutineers before they could reach Fyzabad. The native troops objected to
go out, on the plea of disinclination to leave their families and
property behind; but they promised to fight valiantly in the cantonment
if necessary, and many of them shook hands with him in token of
fidelity. The evening of the 8th revealed the hypocrisy of this display.
The native troops, cavalry, infantry, and artillery, joined in a
demonstration which rendered all the officers powerless; every officer
was, in effect, made a prisoner, and placed under armed guard for the
night; two tried to escape, but were fired at and brought back. The
leader of the mutiny, Dhuleep Singh, subadar-major of the 22d regiment,
came to Colonel Lennox in the morning, and told him plainly that he and
the other officers must yield to the course of circumstances; that boats
would be provided to take them down the river Gogra towards Dinapoor,
but that he would not guarantee their safety after once they had
embarked. There was a cool impudence about the proceeding, unlike the
wild confusion exhibited at many of the scenes of outbreak. A moulvie,
who had been imprisoned in the quarter-guard for a disturbance created
in the city, and who had just been liberated by the mutineers, sent the
sub-assistant surgeon to Colonel Lennox with a message; thanking him for
kindnesses received during the imprisonment, and requesting that the
colonel’s full-dress regimentals might be sent to the moulvie. The
native surgeon begged pardon for his change of allegiance; urging that
times were altered, and that he must now obey the mutineers. There was
something more than mere effrontery, however, in the proceedings of
these insurgents;[25] there was a subordination amid insubordination.
‘The men,’ said one of the narrators, ‘guarded their officers and their
bungalows after mutinying, placed sentries over the magazines and all
public property, and sent out pickets to prevent the towns-people and
servants from looting. They held a council of war, in which the cavalry
proposed to kill the officers; but the 22d, objecting to this, informed
their officers that they would be allowed to leave, and might take with
them their private arms and property, but no public property—as that all
belonged to the King of Oude.’
Let us briefly trace the course of some of the European fugitives.
Colonel Lennox, powerless to resist, gave up his regimentals, and
prepared for a melancholy boat-departure with his wife and daughter.
They were escorted to the banks of the Gogra, and pushed off on their
voyage. From two in the afternoon on the 8th of June, until nearly
midnight, their boat descended the stream—often in peril from sentries
and scouts on shore, but befriended by two sepoys who had been sent to
protect them for a short distance. Much care and manœuvring were
required to effect a safe passage near the spot where the mutinous 17th
regiment was encamped; for it now became manifest that the 22d had in
effect sold the fugitives to the other corps. Early on the following
morning, information received on shore rendering evident the danger of a
further boat-voyage, the houseless wanderers, leaving in the boat the
few fragments of property they had brought away from Fyzabad, set out on
foot towards Goruckpore. With nothing but the clothes on their backs,
the family began their weary flight. After stopping under trees and by
the side of wells to rest occasionally, they walked until the heat of
day rendered necessary a longer pause. By a narrow chance they avoided
being dragged to the camp of the 17th regiment, by a trooper who
professed to have been offered two hundred rupees for the head of each
member of the family. A friendly chieftain, one Meer Mohammed Hossein
Khan, came to their rescue just at the moment of greatest peril. One of
the retainers of this man, however, more disposed for enmity than amity,
spoke to the colonel with great bitterness and fierceness of manner,
shewing that the prevalent rumours had made a deep impression in Oude;
he expressed a longing to shoot the English, ‘who had come to take away
their caste, and make them Christians.’ Meer Mohammed rebuked this man
for saying that a stable would do to shelter the refugees, for that he
was prepared ‘to kill them like dogs.’ The fugitives were taken to a
small fort, one of the numerous class lately adverted to, where the
zemindars and petty chieftains maintained a kind of feudal or clannish
independence. On the second day, the danger to sheltered Europeans
becoming apparent, Colonel Lennox, his wife, and daughter, put on native
dresses, and remained nine days concealed in a reed-hut behind the
zenana, treated very kindly and considerately by their protector. Meer
Mohammed went once or twice to Fyzabad, to learn if possible the plans
of the mutineers; he was told that they meant to attack Lucknow, and
then depart for Delhi. On the 10th day of the hiding, when news arrived
that the fort was likely to be attacked, the ladies went for shelter
into the zenana, while the colonel was hid in a dark woodshed. Happily,
however, it turned out that the suspected strangers were a party sent by
the collector of Goruckpore for the rescue of the family. Danger was now
nearly over. The fugitives reached Amorah, Bustee, Goruckpore, Azimghur,
and Ghazeepore, at which place they took steamer down to Calcutta. This
fortunate escape from great peril was almost wholly due to ‘the noble
and considerate’ Meer Mohammed, as Colonel Lennox very properly
characterises him.
Far more calamitous were the boat-adventures of the main body of Fyzabad
officers, of which an account was afterwards written, for the
information of government, by Farrier-sergeant Busher, of the light
field-battery. On the morning of the 8th, the wives and families of many
civilians, and of five non-commissioned European officers, had been sent
by Captain Orr to a place called Sheergunge, under the protection of a
friendly native, Rajah Maun Singh, to be free from peril if tumult
should arise. Early on the 9th, while Colonel Lennox was still at the
station, all or nearly all the other English were sent off by the
mutineers in four boats. One of these boats (mere dinghees, in which
little more than a bundle for each person could be put) contained eight
persons, one six, one five, and the remaining boat three. Only one
female was of the party, Mrs Hollum, wife of Sergeant-major Hollum of
the 22d native regiment. The first and second boats got ahead of the
other two, and proceeded about twenty miles down the river without
molestation; but then were seen troopers and sepoys approaching the
banks, with an evidently hostile intent. The firing soon became so
severe that the occupants of the first boat struck in for the off-shore,
and seven of them took to their heels—the eighth being unequal to that
physical exertion. They ran on till checked by a broad stream; and while
deliberating how to cross, persons approached who were thought to be
sepoys; the alarm proved false, but not before Lieutenants Currie and
Parsons had been drowned in an attempt to escape by swimming. The other
five, running on till quite exhausted, were fortunate enough to meet
with a friendly native, who sheltered them for several hours, and
supplied them with food. At midnight they started again, taking the road
to Amorah, which they were enabled to reach safely through the influence
of their kind protector—although once in great peril from a gang of
freebooters. They were glad to meet at Amorah the three occupants of the
fourth boat, who, like themselves, had escaped the dangers of the voyage
by running across fields and fording streams. At seven in the morning of
the 10th, the fugitives, now eight in company, recommenced their anxious
flight—aided occasionally by friendly natives, but at length betrayed by
one whose friendship was only a mask. They had to cross a nullah or
stream knee-deep, under pursuit by a body of armed men; here Lieutenant
Lindesay fell, literally cut to pieces; and when the other seven had
passed to the opposite bank, five were speedily hewn to the ground and
butchered—Lieutenants Ritchie, Thomas, and English, and two English
sergeants. The two survivors ran at their topmost speed, pursued by a
gang of ruffians; Lieutenant Cautley was speedily overtaken, and killed;
and then only Sergeant Busher remained alive. He, outrunning his
pursuers, reached a Brahmin village, where a bowl of sherbet was given
to him. After a little rest, he ran on again, until one Baboo Bully
Singh was found to be on the scent after him; he endeavoured to hide
under some straw in a hut; but was discovered and dragged out by the
hair of the head. From village to village he was then carried as an
exhibition to be jeered and scoffed at by the rabble; the Baboo
evidently intended the cruel sport to be followed by murder; but this
intention underwent a change, probably from dread of some future
retribution. He kept his prisoner near him for ten days, but did not
further ill treat him. On the eleventh day, Busher was liberated; he
overtook Colonel Lennox and his family; and safely reached Ghazeepore
seventeen days after his departure from Fyzabad. The boat containing
Colonel O’Brien, Lieutenants Percival and Gordon, Ensign Anderson, and
Assistant-surgeon Collinson, pursued its voyage the whole way down to
Dinapoor; but it was a voyage full of vicissitudes to the fugitives. At
many places they were obliged to lie flat in the boat to prevent
recognition from the shore; at others they had to compel the native
boatmen, on peril of sabring, to continue their tugging at the oars; on
one occasion they narrowly escaped shooting by a herd of villagers who
followed the boat. For three days they had nothing to eat but a little
flour and water; but happening to meet with a friendly rajah at Gola,
they obtained aid which enabled them to reach Dinapoor on the 17th.
The occupants of the remaining boat, the civilians, and the ladies and
children who had not been able to effect a safe retreat to Nynee Tal,
suffered terribly; many lives were lost; and those who escaped to
Goruckpore or Dinapoor arrived in distressing plight—especially a party
of women and children who had been robbed of everything while on the
way, and who had been almost starved to death during a week’s
imprisonment in a fort by the river-side. When it is stated that, among
a group of women and children who reached a place of safety after
infinite hardships, _an infant was born on the road_, the reader will
easily comprehend how far the sufferings must have exceeded anything
likely to appear in print. Many persons were shot, many drowned, while
the fate of others remained doubtful for weeks or even months. Colonel
Goldney and Major Mill were among the slain. The wanderings of Mrs Mill
and her three children were perhaps among the most affecting incidents
of this mutiny. Amid the dire haste of departure, she became separated
from her husband, and was the last Englishwoman left in Fyzabad. How she
escaped and how she fared, was more than she herself could clearly
narrate; for the whole appeared afterwards as a dreadful dream, in which
every kind of misery was confusedly mixed. During two or three weeks,
she was wandering up and down the country, living in the jungle when man
refused her shelter, and searching the fields for food when none was
obtainable elsewhere. Her poor infant, eight months old, died for want
of its proper nourishment; but the other two children, seven and three
years old, survived all the privations to which they were exposed. On
one occasion, seeing some troopers approaching, and being utterly
hopeless, she passionately besought them, if their intentions were
hostile, to kill her children without torturing them, and then to kill
her. The appeal touched the hearts of the rude men; they took her to a
village and gave her a little succour; and this facilitated their
conveyance by a friendly native to Goruckpore, where danger was over.
Sultanpore was another station at which mutiny and murder occurred. On
the 8th of June, a wing of the 15th irregular cavalry entered that place
from Seetapoor, in a state of evident excitement. Lieutenant Tucker, who
was a favourite with them, endeavoured to allay their mutinous spirit,
and succeeded for a few hours; but on the following morning they rose in
tumult, murdered Colonel Fisher, Captain Gubbings, and two other
Europeans, and urged the lieutenant to escape, which he did. After much
jungle-wanderings, and concealment in a friendly native’s house, he
safely arrived at Benares, as did likewise four or five other officers,
and all the European women and children at the station. In this as in
other instances, the revolt of the troops was followed by marauding and
incendiarism on the part of the rabble of Sultanpore; in this, too, as
in other instances, the mutineers had a little affection for some one or
more among their officers, whom they endeavoured to save.
The station of Pershadeepore experienced its day of trouble on the 10th
of June. The 1st regiment Oude irregular infantry was there stationed,
under Captain Thompson. He prided himself on the fidelity of his men;
inasmuch as they seemed to turn a deaf ear to the rumours and suspicions
circulating elsewhere; and he had detected the falsity of a
mischief-maker, who had secretly caused ground bones to be mixed with
the attah (coarse flour with which chupatties are made) sold in the
bazaar, as the foundation for a report that the government intended to
take away the caste of the people. This pleasant delusion lasted until
the 9th; when a troop of the 3d Oude irregular cavalry arrived from
Pertabghur, followed soon afterwards by news of the rising at
Sultanpore. The fidelity of the infantry now gave way, under the
temptations and representations made to them by other troops. When
Captain Thompson rose on the morning of the 10th, he found his regiment
all dressed, and in orderly mutiny (if such an expression may be used).
He tried with an aching heart to separate the good men from the bad, and
to induce the former to retire with him to Allahabad; but the temptation
of the treasure was more than they could resist; they all joined in the
spoliation, and then felt that allegiance was at an end. At four in the
afternoon all the Europeans left the station, without a shot or an angry
word from the men; they were escorted to the fort of Dharoopoor,
belonging to a chieftain named Rajah Hunnewaut Singh, who treated them
courteously, and after some days forwarded them safely to Allahabad.
There was not throughout India a mutiny conducted with more quietness on
both sides than this at Pershadeepore; the sepoys had evidently no angry
feeling towards their officers. Captain Thompson remained of opinion
that his men had been led away by rumours and insinuations brought by
stragglers from other stations, to the effect that any Oude regiment
which did _not_ mutiny would be in peril from those that had; and that,
even under this fear, they would have remained faithful had there been
no treasure to tempt their cupidity. It is curious to note Colonel
Neill’s comment on this incident, in his official dispatch; his reliance
on the native troops was of the smallest possible amount; and in
reference to the captain’s honest faith, he said: ‘This is absurd; they
were as deeply in the plot as the rest of the army; the only credit due
to them is that they did not murder their officers.’
Seetapoor, about fifty miles north of Lucknow, was the place towards
which the insurgent troops from that city bent their steps at the close
of May. Whether those regiments kept together, and how far they
proceeded on the next few days, are points not clearly made out; but it
is certain that the native troops stationed at Seetapoor—comprising the
41st Bengal infantry, the 9th and 10th Oude irregular infantry, and the
2d Oude military police, in all about three thousand men—rose in mutiny
on the 3d of June. The 41st began the movement. A sepoy came to one of
the officers in the morning, announced that the rising was about to take
place, declared that neither he nor his companions wished to draw blood,
and suggested that all the officers should retreat from the station. The
regiment was in two wings, one in the town and one in the cantonment;
the plundering of the treasury was begun by the first-named party; the
other wing, obedient at first, broke forth when they suspected they
might be deprived of a share in the plunder. After the 41st had thus set
the example, the 9th revolted; then the military police; and then the
10th. Lieutenant Burnes, of the last-named regiment, entreated his men
earnestly to remain faithful, but to no effect. Seeing that many
officers had been struck down, the remainder hastily retired to the
house of Mr Christian the commissioner; and when all were assembled,
with the civilians, the ladies, and the children, it was at once
resolved to quit the burning bungalows and ruthless soldiers and seek
refuge at Lucknow. Some made their exit without any preparation; among
whom was Lieutenant Burnes—roaming through jungles for days, and aiding
women and children as best they could, suffering all those miseries
which have so often been depicted. The great body of Europeans, however,
left the station in buggies and other vehicles; and as the high roads
were perilous, the fugitives drove over hills, hollows, and ploughed
fields, where perhaps vehicles had never been driven before.
Fortunately, twenty troopers remained faithful to them, and escorted
them all the way to Lucknow, which place they reached on the night of
the third day—reft of everything they possessed, like many other
fugitives in those days. Many of the Europeans did not succeed in
quitting Seetapoor in time; and among these the work of death was
ruthlessly carried on—the sepoys being either unwilling or unable to
check these scenes of barbarity.
As at Lucknow, Fyzabad, Sultanpore, Pershadeepore, Seetapoor; so at
Secrora, Durriabad, Beraytch, Gouda, and other places in Oude—wherever
there was a native regiment stationed, or a treasury of the Company
established, there, in almost every instance, were exhibited scenes of
violence attended by murder and plunder. The lamented Lawrence, in the
five weeks preceding his death, was, as has been lately pointed out,
placed in an extraordinary position. Responsible to the supreme
government both for the political and the military management of Oude,
and knowing that almost every station in the province was a focus of
treachery and mutiny, he was notwithstanding powerless to restore
tranquillity. So far from Cawnpore assisting him, he yearned to assist
Cawnpore; Rohilcund was in a blaze, and could send him only mutineers
who had thrown off all allegiance; Meerut, after sending troops to
Delhi, was doing little but defending itself; Agra, with a mere handful
of European troops, was too doubtful of its Gwalior neighbours to do
anything for Lucknow and Oude; Allahabad and Benares were too recently
rescued, by the gallant Neill, from imminent peril, to be in a position
to send present assistance to Sir Henry; and the Nepaul sovereign, Jung
Bahadoor, had not yet been made an ally of the English in such a way as
might possibly have saved Oude, and as was advocated by many
well-wishers of India.
The position of the sovereignty just named may usefully be adverted to
here. Nepaul, about equal in area to England, is one of the few
independent states of Northern India; it reaches to the Himalaya on the
north; and is bounded on the other sides by the British territories of
Behar, Oude, and Kumaon. The region is distinguished by the magnificent
giant mountain-chain which separates it from Tibet; by the dense
forest-jungle of the Terai on the Oude frontier; by the beautiful valley
in which the capital, Khatmandoo, lies, and which is dotted with
flourishing villages, luxuriant fields, and picturesque streams; and by
its healthy and temperate climate. It is with the people, however, that
this narrative is more particularly concerned. The Nepaulese, about two
millions in number, comprise Goorkhas, Newars, Bhotias, Dhauwars, and
Mhaujees. The Goorkhas are the dominant race; they are Hindoos in
religion, but very unlike Hindoos in appearance, manners, and customs.
The Newars are the aborigines of Nepaul, decidedly Mongolian both in
faith and in features; they are the clever artisans of the kingdom,
while the Goorkhas are the hardy soldiers. The other three tribes are
chiefly cultivators of the soil. In the latter half of the last century,
Nepaul was for a short time a dependency of the Chinese Empire; but a
treaty of commerce with the British in 1782 initiated a state of affairs
which soon enabled Nepaul to throw off Chinese supremacy. Conventions,
subsidies, border encroachments, and family intrigues, checkered
Nepaulese affairs until 1812; when the Company made formal war on the
ground of a long catalogue of injuries and insults—such a catalogue as
can easily be concocted by a stronger state against a weaker. The war
was so badly conducted, that nothing but the military tact of Sir David
Ochterlony, who held one-fourth of a command which seems to have had no
head or general commander, saved the British from ignominious defeat.
Broken engagements led to another war in 1816, which terminated in a
treaty never since ruptured; the Nepaulese court has been a focus of
intrigue, but the intrigues have not been of such a character as to
disturb the relations of amity with the British. Jung Bahadoor—a name
well known in England a few years ago, as that of a Nepaulese ambassador
who made a sensation by his jewelled splendor—was the nephew of a man
who became by successive steps prime minister to the king. Instigated by
the queen, and by his own unscrupulous ambition, Jung Bahadoor caused
his uncle to be put to death, and became commander-in-chief under a new
ministry. Many scenes of truly oriental slaughter followed—that is,
slaughter to clear the pathway to power. Jung Bahadoor treated kings and
queens somewhat as the Company was accustomed to do in the last century;
setting up a son against a father, and treating all alike as puppets. At
a period subsequent to his return from England, he caused a marriage to
be concluded between his daughter, six years old, and the heir-apparent
to the Nepaulese throne, then in his ninth year. Whether king or not, he
was virtually chief of Nepaul at the time when the Revolt broke out; and
had managed, by astuteness in his diplomacy, to remain on friendly terms
with the authorities at Calcutta: indeed he took every opportunity,
after his English visit, to display his leaning towards his neighbours.
Like Nena Sahib, he had English pianos and English carpets in his house,
and prided himself in understanding English manners and the English
language; and it is unquestionable that both those men were favourites
among such of the English as visited the one at Bithoor or the other at
Khatmandoo.
It has been mentioned in a former chapter (p. 115) that Goorkha troops
assisted to defend Nynee Tal when that place became filled with
refugees; and Goorkha regiments have been adverted to in many other
parts of the narrative. Jung Bahadoor permitted the Nepaulese of this
tribe to enlist thus in the Company’s service; and he also offered the
aid of a contingent, the non-employment of which brought many strictures
upon the policy of the Calcutta government. At a later date, as we shall
see, this contingent was accepted; and it rendered us good service at
Juanpore and Azimghur by protecting Benares from the advance of Oude
mutineers. About the middle of June, fifteen Europeans (seven gentlemen,
three ladies, and five children) escaped from the Oude mutineers into
the jungle region of Nepaul, and sought refuge in a post-station or
serai about ten days’ journey from Goruckpore and eighteen from
Khatmandoo. The officer at that place wrote to Jung Bahadoor for
instruction in the matter; to which he received a speedy reply—‘Treat
them with every kindness, give them elephants, &c., and escort them to
Goruckpore.’ Major Ramsey, the Company’s representative at Khatmandoo,
sent them numerous supplies in tin cases; and all the English were
naturally disposed to bless the Nepaulese chieftain as a friend in the
hour of greatest need, without inquiring very closely by what means he
had gained his power.
The course of the narrative now takes us from Oude northwestward into
the province of Rohilcund; the districts of which, named after the towns
of Bareilly, Mooradabad, Shahjehanpoor, Boodayoun, and Bijnour, felt the
full force of the mutinous proceedings among the native troops. The
Rohillas were originally Mussulman Afghans, who conquered this part of
India, gradually settled down among the Hindoo natives, and imparted to
them a daring reckless character, which rendered Rohilcund a nursery for
irregular cavalry—and afterwards for mutineers.
Brigadier Sibbald was commandant of Bareilly, one of the towns of
Rohilcund in which troops were stationed. These troops were entirely
native, comprising the 18th and 68th Bengal native infantry, the 8th
irregular cavalry, and a battery of native artillery—not an English
soldier among them except the officers. The brigadier, although these
troops appeared towards the close of the month of May to be in an
agitated state, nevertheless heard that all was well at Mooradabad,
Shahjehanpoor, Almora, and other stations in Rohilcund, and looked
forward with some confidence to the continuance of tranquility—aided by
his second in command, Colonel Troup, and the commissioner, Mr
Alexander. As a precaution, however, the ladies and children were sent
for safety to Nynee Tal; and the gentlemen kept their horses saddled,
ready for any emergency. Bareilly being a city of a hundred thousand
inhabitants, the temper of the natives was very anxiously watched.
Scarcely had the month closed, before the hopes of Brigadier Sibbald
received a dismal check, and his life a violent end. We have already
briefly mentioned (p. 114) that on Sunday the 31st, Bareilly became a
scene of violence and rapine; the brigadier himself being shot by a
trooper, the treasure seized, the bungalows plundered and burned, and
the Europeans either murdered or impelled to escape for their lives.
When Colonel Troup, who commanded the 68th native infantry, and who
became chief military authority after the death of Sibbald, found
himself safe at Nynee Tal, he wrote an official account of the whole
proceeding, corroborating the chief facts noted by the brigadier, and
adding others known more especially to himself. From this dispatch it
appears that the colonel commanded at Bareilly from the 6th to the 19th
of May, while the brigadier was making a tour of inspection through his
district; that from the 19th to the 29th, Sibbald himself resumed the
command; and that during those twenty-three days nothing occurred to
shew disaffection among the troops, further than a certain troubled and
agitated state. On that day, however, the Europeans received
information, from two native officers, that the men of the 18th and 68th
native regiments had, _while bathing in the river_, concerted a plan of
mutiny for that same afternoon. Most of the officers were quickly on the
alert; and, whether or not through this evidence of preparedness, no
émeute took place on that day. On the 30th, Colonel Troup, who had
relied on the fidelity of the 8th irregular cavalry, received
information that those sowars had sworn not to act against the native
infantry and artillery if the latter should rise, although they would
refrain from molesting their own officers. After a day and night of
violent excitement throughout the whole station, the morning of Sunday
the 31st (again Sunday!) ushered in a day of bloodshed and rapine.
Messages were despatched to all the officers, warning them of some
intended outbreak; but the bearers, sent by Troup, failed in their duty,
insomuch that many of the officers remained ignorant of the danger until
too late to avert it. Major Pearson, of the 18th, believed his men to be
stanch; Captain Kirby, of the artillery (6th company, 6th battalion), in
like manner trusted his corps; and Captain Brownlow, the brigade major,
disbelieved the approach of mutiny—at the very time that Colonel Troup
was impressing on all his conviction that the sinister rumours were well
founded. At eleven o’clock, the truth appeared in fatal colours; the
roar of cannon, the rattle of musketry, and the yells of men, told
plainly that the revolt had begun, and that the artillery had joined in
it. The 8th irregular cavalry, under Captain Mackenzie, were ordered or
invited by him to proceed against the lines of the insurgent infantry
and artillery; but the result was so disastrous, that all the Europeans,
military as well as civilians, found their only safety would be in
flight. Ruktawar Khan, subadar of artillery, assumed the rank of
general, and paraded about in the carriage of the brigadier, attended by
a numerous string of followers as a ‘staff.’ Colonel Troup, writing on
the 10th of June, had to report the deaths of Brigadier Sibbald and
three or four other officers, together with that of many of the civil
servants. About twenty-five military officers escaped; but the list of
‘missing’ was large, and many of those included in it were afterwards
known to have been brutally murdered. Captain Mackenzie, who clung to
his troopers in the earnest hope that they would remain faithful, found
only nineteen men who did so, and who escorted their officers all the
way to Nynee Tal.
A despicable hoary traitor, Khan Bahadoor Khan, appears to have headed
this movement. He had for many years been in receipt of a double pension
from the Indian government—as the living representative of one of the
early Rohilla chieftains, and as a retired judge of one of the native
courts. He was an old, venerable-looking, insinuating man; he was
thoroughly relied on by the civil authorities at Bareilly; he had loudly
proclaimed his indignation against the Delhi mutineers; and yet he
became ringleader of those at Bareilly—deepening his damning atrocities
by the massacre of such of the unfortunate Europeans as did not succeed
in making their escape. It was by his orders, as self-elected chief of
Rohilcund, that a rigorous search was made for all Europeans who
remained in Bareilly; and that Judge Robertson, and four or five other
European gentlemen, were hung in the Kotwal square, after a mock-trial.
During the month of June, Bareilly remained entirely in the hands of the
rebels; not an Englishman, probably, was alive in the place; and the
Mussulmans and Hindoos were left to contend for supremacy over the
spoil.
Of Boodayoun it will be unnecessary to say more here; Mr Edwards’s
narrative of an eventful escape (pp. 115, 116), pointed to the 1st of
June as the day when the Europeans deemed it necessary to flee from that
station—not because there were any native troops at Boodayoun, but
because the mutineers from Bareilly were approaching, and joyfully
expected by all the scoundrels in the place, who looked forward to a
harvest of plunder as a natural result.
Mooradabad, which began its season of anarchy and violence on the 3d of
June, stands on the right bank of the Ramgunga, an affluent of the
Ganges, at a point about midway between Meerut and Bareilly. It is a
town of nearly 60,000 inhabitants—having a civil station, with its
cutcherry and bungalows; a cantonment west of the town; a spacious serai
for the accommodation of travellers; and an enormous jail sufficiently
large to contain nearly two thousand prisoners. In this, as in many
other towns of India, the Company’s troops were wont to be regarded
rather as guardians of the jail and its inmates, than for any active
military duties. So early as the 19th of May, nine days after the
mutineers of Meerut had set the example, the 29th regiment native
infantry proceeded to the jail at Mooradabad, and released all the
prisoners. Although Mr Saunders, collector and magistrate, wrote full
accounts to Agra of the proceedings of that and the following days, the
dâks were so completely stopped on the road that Mr Colvin remained
almost in ignorance of the state of affairs; and on that account
Saunders could obtain no assistance from any quarter. The released
prisoners, joined by predatory bands of Goojurs, Meewatties, and Jâts,
commenced a system of plunder and rapine, which the European authorities
were ill able to check. The 29th, however, had not openly mutinied; and
it still remained possible to hold control within the town and the
surrounding district; several native sappers and miners were stopped and
captured on their way from Meerut, and several of the mutinous 20th
regiment on the way from Mozuffernugger. When, however, news of the
Bareilly outbreak on the 31st reached Mooradabad, the effect on the men
of the 29th regiment, and of a native artillery detachment, became very
evident. On the 3d of June, the sepoys in guard of the treasury
displayed so evident an intention of appropriating the money, that Mr
Saunders felt compelled to leave it (about seventy thousand rupees)
together with much plate and opium in their hands—being powerless to
prevent the spoliation. The troops manifested much irritation at the
smallness of the treasure, and were only prevented from wreaking their
vengeance on the officials by an oath they had previously taken. To
remain longer in the town was deemed a useless risk, as bad passions
were rising on every side. The civil officers of the Company, with their
wives and families, succeeded in making a safe retreat to Meerut; while
Captain Whish, Captain Faddy, and other officers of the 29th, with the
few remaining Europeans, laid their plans for a journey to Nynee Tal.
All shared an opinion that if the Bareilly regiments had not mutinied,
the 29th would have remained faithful—a poor solace, such as had been
sought for by many other officials similarly placed. Mr Colvin
afterwards accepted Mr Saunders’s motives and conduct in leaving the
station, as justifiable under the trying circumstances.
Rohilcund contained three military stations, Bareilly, Mooradabad, and
Shahjehanpoor—Boodayoun and the other places named being merely civil
stations. As at Bareilly and Mooradabad, so at Shahjehanpoor; the native
troops at the station rose in mutiny. On Sunday the 31st of May—a day
marked by so many atrocities in India—the 28th native infantry rose,
surrounded the Christian residents as they were engaged in divine
worship in church, and murdered nearly the whole of them, including the
Rev. Mr M’Callum in the sacred edifice itself. The few who escaped were
exposed to an accumulation of miseries; first they sought shelter at
Mohammerah in Oude; then they met the 41st regiment, after the mutiny at
Seetapoor, who shot and cut them down without mercy; and scarcely any
lived to tell the dismal tale to English ears.
Thus then it appears that, in Rohilcund, the 18th, 68th, 28th, and 29th
regiments native infantry, together with the 8th irregular cavalry and a
battery of native artillery, rose in revolt at the three military
stations, and murdered or drove out nearly the whole of the Europeans
from the entire province—European troops there were none; only officers
and civilians. They plundered all the treasuries, containing more than a
quarter of a million sterling, and marched off towards Delhi, five
thousand strong—unmolested by the general who commanded at Meerut.
Nynee Tal became more crowded than ever with refugees from Oude and
Rohilcund. Under the energetic command of Captain Ramsey, this
hill-station remained in quiet during the month of May (p. 115); but it
was not so easily defended in June. Some of the native artillery at
Almora, not far distant, gave rise to uneasiness towards the close of
the month; yet as the ill-doers were promptly put into prison, and as
the Goorkhas remained stanch, confidence was partially restored. The
sepoys from the rebel regiments dreaded a march in this direction, on
account of the deadly character of the Terai, a strip of swampy forest,
thirty miles broad, which interposes between the plains and the hills;
but that jungle-land itself contained many marauders, who were only
prevented by fear of the Goorkhas from going up to Nynee Tal. At the end
of June, there were five times as many women and children as men among
the Europeans at that place; hence the anxious eye with which the
proceedings in surrounding districts were regarded.
The third region to which this chapter is appropriated—the Doab—now
calls for attention. Like Oude and Rohilcund, it was the scene of
terrible anarchy and bloodshed in the month of June. In its two
parts—the Lower Doab, from Allahabad to a little above Furruckabad; and
the Upper Doab, from the last-named city up to the hill-country—it was
nearly surrounded by mutineers, who apparently acted in concert with
those in the Doab itself.
Of Allahabad and Cawnpore, the two chief places in the Lower Doab,
sufficient has been said in Chapters VIII. and IX. to trace the course
of events during the month of June. About midway between the two is
Futtehpoor, a small civil station in the centre of a group of Mohammedan
villages; it contained, at the beginning of June, about a dozen civil
servants of the Company, and a small detachment of the 6th native
regiment from Allahabad. The residents, as a precautionary measure, had
sent their wives and children to that stronghold, and had also arranged
a plan for assembling at the house of the magistrate, if danger should
appear. On the 5th of the month, disastrous news arriving from Lucknow
and Cawnpore, the residents took up their abode for the night on the
flat roof of the magistrate’s house, with their weapons by their sides;
and on the following day they hauled up a supply of tents, provisions,
water, and ammunition—a singular citadel being thus extemporised in the
absence of better. On the 7th, their small detachment aided in repelling
a body of troopers who had just arrived from Cawnpore on a plundering
expedition; and the residents congratulated themselves on the fidelity
of this small band. Their reliance was, however, of short duration; for,
on the receipt of news of the Allahabad outbreak, the native officials
in the collector’s office gave way, like the natives all around them,
and Futtehpoor soon became a perilous spot for Europeans. On the 9th,
the residents held a council on their roof, and resolved to quit the
station. A few troopers befriended them; and they succeeded, after many
perils and sufferings, in reaching Banda, a town southward of the Jumna.
Not all of them, however. Mr Robert Tucker, the judge, resisting
entreaty, determined to remain at his post to the last. He rode all over
the town, promising rewards to those natives who would be faithful; he
endeavoured to shame others by his heroic bearing; he appealed to the
gratitude and good feeling of many of the poorer natives, who had been
benefited by him in more peaceful times. But all in vain. The jail was
broken open, the prisoners liberated, and the treasury plundered; and Mr
Tucker, flying to the roof of the cutcherry, there bravely defended
himself until a storm of bullets laid him low. Robert Tucker was one of
those civilians of whom the Company had reason to be proud.
Advancing to the northwest, we come to a string of towns and
stations—Etawah, Minpooree, Allygurh, Futteghur, Muttra, Bolundshuhur,
Mozuffernugger, &c.—which shared with Oude and Rohilcund the wild
disorders of the month of June. The mutiny at Futteghur has already
engaged our notice (p. 133), in connection with the miserable fugitives
who swelled the numbers put to death by Nena Sahib at Bithoor and
Cawnpore. It needs little further mention here. The 10th native
infantry, and a small body of artillery, long resisted the temptation
held out by mutineers elsewhere; but, on the appearance of the insurgent
regiments from Seetapoor, their fidelity gave way. Four companies went
off with the treasure; the remainder joined the other mutinous regiments
in besieging the fort to which so many Europeans had fled for refuge,
and from which so disastrous a boat-voyage was made down the Ganges. Mr
Colvin, at Agra, knew of the perilous state of things at Futteghur; he
knew that a native nawab had been chosen by the mutineers as a sort of
sovereign; but, as we shall presently see, he was too weak in reliable
troops to afford any assistance whatever. Thus it happened that the two
boat-expeditions, of June and July, ended so deplorably to the
Europeans, and left Futteghur so wholly in the hands of the rebels. It
was a great loss to the British in many ways; for most of the Company’s
gun-carriages were made, or at least stored, at Futteghur; and the
agency-yard was surrounded by warehouses containing a large supply of
material belonging to the artillery service. Indeed it was this
court-yard of the gun-carriage agency that constituted the fort, as soon
as a few defensive arrangements had been made. Many circumstances had
drawn rather a large English population to Futteghur; and hence the
terrible severity of the tragedy. There were officers of the 10th
regiment; other military officers on leave; gun-carriage agents; civil
servants; merchants and dealers; a few tent-makers and other artisans;
indigo-planters from the neighbouring estates; and many native
Christians under the care of the American Presbyterian mission.
We have already seen (pp. 112, 113) by how small a number of native
troops several stations were set in commotion in May. The 9th regiment
Bengal native infantry was separated into four portions, which were
stationed at Allygurh, Bolundshuhur, Etawah, and Minpooree,
respectively; and all mutinied nearly at the same time. The fortune of
war, if war it can be called, at these stations during the month of
June, may be traced in a very few words. It was on the 20th of May that
the four companies at Allygurh mutinied; and on the 24th that one-half
of Lieutenant Cockburn’s Gwalior troopers, instead of assisting him to
retain or regain the station, rose in mutiny and galloped off to join
the insurgents elsewhere. There were, however, about a hundred who
remained faithful to him; and these, with fifty volunteers, made an
advance to Allygurh, retook it, drove out the detachment of the 9th
native regiment, released a few Europeans who had been in hiding there,
captured one Rao Bhopal Singh, and hanged him as a petty chieftain who
had continued the rapine begun by the sepoys. Throughout the month of
June this station was maintained in British hands—not so much for its
value in a military sense, as for its utility in keeping open the roads
to Agra and Meerut; but, in the direction of Delhi, the volunteers could
obtain very little news, the dâks being all cut off by the Goojurs and
other predatory bands. At Minpooree the three companies of the 9th
checked, it will be remembered, by the undaunted courage and tact of
Lieutenant de Kantzow, departed to join the insurgents elsewhere; but
Minpooree remained in British hands. The remaining companies mutinied at
Etawah and Bolundshuhur without much violence.
[Illustration:
SIMLA, the summer residence of the Governor-general of India.
]
Agra, when the narrative last left it (p. 111), had passed through the
month of May without any serious disturbances. The troops consisted of
the 44th and 67th regiments Bengal native infantry, the 3d Europeans,
and a few artillery. After two companies of these native troops had
mutinied while engaged in bringing treasure from Muttra to Agra, Mr
Colvin deemed it necessary to disarm all the other companies; and this
was quietly and successfully effected on the 1st of June, by the 3d
Europeans and Captain D’Oyley’s field-battery. Many facts afterward came
to light, tending to shew that if this disarming had not taken place,
the 44th and 67th would have stained their hands with the same bloody
deeds as the sepoys were doing elsewhere. The native lines had been more
than once set on fire during the later days of May—in the hope, as
afterwards appears, that the handful of Europeans, by rushing out
unarmed to extinguish the flames, would afford the native troops a
favourable opportunity to master the defences of the city, and the six
guns of the field-battery. A curious proof was supplied of the little
knowledge possessed by the Europeans of the native character, and the
secret springs that worked unseen as moving powers for their actions.
There had long seemed to be an angry feeling between the 44th and the
67th; and Mr Colvin, or the brigadier acting with him, selected one
company from each regiment for the mission to Muttra, in the belief that
each would act as a jealous check upon the other; instead of which, the
two companies joined in revolt, murdered many of their officers, and
carried off their treasure towards Delhi. After the very necessary
disarming of the two regiments, the defence of this important city was
left to the 3d European Fusiliers, Captain D’Oyley’s field-battery of
six guns, and a corps of volunteer European cavalry under Lieutenant
Greathed. Most of the disarmed men deserted, and swelled the ranks of
the desperadoes that wrought so much ruin in the surrounding districts—a
result that led many military officers to doubt whether disarming
without imprisonment was a judicious course under such circumstances;
for the men naturally felt exasperated at their humbled position,
whether deserved or not; and their loyalty, as soldiers out of work, was
not likely to be in any way increased. Whether or not this opinion be
correct, the Europeans in Agra felt their only reliance to be in each
other. During the early days of June, most of the ladies resorted at
night to certain places of refuge allotted by the governor, such as the
fort, the post-office, the office of the _Mofussilite_ newspaper, and
behind the artillery lines; while the gentlemen patrolled the streets,
or maintained a defensive attitude at appointed places. Trade was
continued, British supremacy was asserted, bloodshed was kept away from
the city, and the Europeans maintained a steady if not cheerful
demeanour. Nevertheless Mr Colvin was full of anxieties; he was
responsible to the Calcutta government, not only for Agra, but for the
whole of the Northwest Provinces; yet he found himself equally unable to
send aid to other stations, and receive aid from them. Agra was troubled
on the night of the 23d of June by the desertion of the jail-guard, to
whom had been intrusted the custody of the large central prison. A guard
from the 3d Europeans was thereupon placed on the outside; while the
inside was guarded by another force under Dr Walker the superintendent.
So far as concerned military disturbances within the city, Mr Colvin was
not at that time under much apprehension; but he knew that certain
regiments from Neemuch—the mutiny of which will be described in the next
chapter—had approached by the end of the month to a point on the high
road between Agra and Jeypoor, very near the first-named city; and he
heard that they contemplated an attack. He estimated their strength at
two regiments of infantry, four or five hundred cavalry, and eight guns;
but as the whole of the civil and military authorities at Agra were on
the alert, he did not regard this approaching force with much alarm. To
strengthen his position, and maintain public confidence, he organised a
European militia of horse and foot, among the clerks, railway men, &c.,
to which it was expected and desired that nearly all civilians should
belong. This militia, placed under the management of Captains
Prendergast and Lamb, Lieutenants Rawlins and Oldfield, and Ensign
Noble, who had belonged to the disarmed native regiments, was divided
into two corps, to which the defence of the different parts of the
station was intrusted. How the Europeans, both military and civilians,
became cooped up in the fort during July, we shall see in a future
chapter.
Meerut, during June, remained in the hands of the British; but there was
much inactivity on the part of the general commanding there, in relation
to the districts around that town. On the 10th of May, when the mutiny
began (p. 50), there were a thousand men of the 60th Rifles, six hundred
of the Carabiniers, a troop of horse-artillery, and five hundred
artillery recruits—constituting a force unusually large, in relation to
the general distribution of English troops in India. Yet these fine
soldiers were not so handled as to draw from them the greatest amount of
service. They were not sent after the three mutinous regiments who
escaped to Delhi; and during the urgent and critical need of Lawrence,
Colvin, and Wheeler, Major-general Hewett kept his Europeans almost
constantly in or near Meerut. It is true that he, and others who have
defended him, asserted that the maintenance of the position at Meerut, a
very important consideration, could not have been insured if he had
marched out to intercept rebels going from various quarters towards
Delhi; but this argument was not deemed satisfactory at Calcutta;
Major-general Hewett was superseded, and another commander appointed in
his place. It was not until June that dâks were re-established between
Meerut and Agra on the one hand, and Meerut and Kurnaul on the other.
Some of the Europeans were sent off to join the besieging army before
Delhi; while a portion of the remainder were occasionally occupied in
putting down bands of Goojurs and other predatory robbers around Meerut.
The town of Sirdhana, where the Catholic nuns and children had been
placed in such peril (p. 57), was too near Meerut to be held by the
rebels. Early in June, one Wallee Dad Khan set himself up as subadar or
captain-general of Meerut, under the King of Delhi; raised a rabble
force of Goojurs; held the fort of Malagurh with six guns; and seized
the district of Bolundshuhur. News arriving that he was advancing with
his force towards Meerut, about a hundred European troops, Rifles and
Carabiniers, with a few civilians and two guns, started off to intercept
him. They had little work to do, however, except to burn villages held
by the insurgents; for the robber Goojurs having quarrelled with the
robber Jâts about plunder, the latter compelled Wallee Dud Khan and his
general, Ismail Khan, to effect a retreat before the English came up. In
the last week of the month the force at Meerut, chiefly in consequence
of the number sent off to Delhi, was reduced to about eight hundred;
these were kept so well on the alert, and the whole town and cantonment
so well guarded, that the Europeans felt little alarm; although vexed
that they could afford no further assistance to the besiegers of Delhi,
nor even chastise a portion of the 4th irregular cavalry, who mutinied
at Mozuffernugger. All the English, civilians and their families as well
as military officers, lived at Meerut either in barracks or tents—none
venturing to sleep beyond the immediate spot where the military were
placed.
Simla, during these varied operations, continued to be a place where, as
at Nynee Tal, ladies and children, as well as some of the officers and
civilians, took refuge after being despoiled by mutineers. A militia was
formed after the hasty departure of General Anson; Simla was divided
into four districts under separate officers; and the gentlemen aided by
a few English troops, defended those districts, throughout June. The
people at the bazaar, and all the native servants of the place, were
disarmed, and the arms taken for safe custody to Kussowlie.
Delhi—a place repeatedly mentioned in every chapter of this
narrative—continued to be the centre towards which the attention of all
India was anxiously directed. Fast as the native regiments mutinied in
Bengal, Oude, Rohilcund, the Doab, Bundelcund, and elsewhere, so did
they either flee to Delhi, or shape their course in dependence on the
military operations going on there; and fast as the British troops could
be despatched to that spot, so did they take rank among the besiegers.
But in truth this latter augmentation came almost wholly from the
Punjaub and other western districts. Lloyd, Neill, Wheeler, Lawrence,
Hewett, Sibbald, were so closely engaged in attending to the districts
around Dinapoor, Benares, Allahabad, Cawnpore, Lucknow, Meerut, and
Bareilly, that they could not send aid to the besiegers of Delhi, during
several weeks of siege operations. These operations will be noticed in
systematic order, when the other threads of the narrative have been
traced to the proper points. Meanwhile the reader will bear in mind that
the siege of Delhi was in progress from the middle of June to an
advanced period in the summer.
[Illustration:
Tomb at Futtehpore Sikri.
]
-----
Footnote 23:
_Artillery_: 4 guns, horse light field-battery; 6 guns, Oude
field-battery; and 1 8-inch howitzer. _Cavalry_: 120 troopers of 1st,
2d, and 3d Oude irregular cavalry; and 40 volunteer cavalry, under
Captain Radcliffe. _Infantry_: 300 of H.M. 32d foot; 150 of 13th
native infantry; 60 of the 48th native infantry; and 20 of the 71st.
Footnote 24:
‘Every boy has read, and many living men still remember, how the death
of Nelson was felt by all as a deep personal affliction. Sir Henry
Lawrence was less widely known, and his deeds were in truth of less
magnitude than those of the great sea-captain; but never probably was
a public man within the sphere of his reputation more ardently
beloved. Sir Henry Lawrence had that rare and happy faculty (which a
man in almost every other respect unlike him, Sir Charles Napier, is
said also to have possessed) of attaching to himself every one with
whom he came in contact. He had that gift which is never acquired, a
gracious, winning, noble manner; rough and ready as he was in the
field, his manner in private life had an indescribable charm of
frankness, grace, and even courtly dignity. He had that virtue which
Englishmen instinctively and characteristically love—a lion-like
courage. He had that fault which Englishmen so readily forgive, and
when mixed with what are felt to be its naturally concomitant good
qualities, they almost admire—a hot and impetuous temper; he had in
overflowing measure that Godlike grace which even the base revere and
the good acknowledge as the crown of virtue—the grace of charity. No
young officer ever sat at Sir Henry’s table without learning to think
more kindly of the natives; no one, young or old, man or woman, ever
heard Sir Henry speak of the European soldier, or ever visited the
Lawrence Asylum, without being excited to a nobler and truer
appreciation of the real extent of his duty towards his neighbour. He
was one of the few distinguished Anglo-Indians who had attained to
something like an English reputation in his lifetime. In a few years,
his name will be familiar to every reader of Indian history; but for
the present it is in India that his memory will be most deeply
cherished; it is by Anglo-Indians that any eulogy on him will be best
appreciated, it is by them that the institutions which he founded and
maintained will be fostered as a monument to his memory.’—_Fraser’s
Magazine_, No. 336.
Footnote 25:
The troops stationed at that time at Fyzabad comprised the 22d
regiment native infantry; the 6th regiment irregular Oude infantry;
the 5th troop of the 15th regiment irregular cavalry; No. 5 company of
the 7th battalion of artillery; and No. 13 horse-battery. The chief
officers were Colonels Lennox and O’Brien; Major Mill; Captain Morgan;
Lieutenants Fowle, English, Bright, Lindesay, Thomas, Ouseley,
Cautley, Gordon, Parsons, Percival, and Currie; and Ensigns Anderson
and Ritchie. Colonel Goldney held a civil appointment as commissioner.
CHAPTER XI.
CENTRAL REGIONS OF INDIA: JUNE.
In the political and territorial arrangements of the East India Company,
the name of Central India is somewhat vaguely employed to designate a
portion of the region lying between the Jumna and Bundelcund on the
northeast, and the Nizam’s territory and Gujerat on the southwest; a
designation convenient for general reading, without possessing any very
precise acceptation. In the present chapter, we shall change the
expression and enlarge the meaning so as to designate a belt of country
that really forms Central India in a geographical sense, extending from
Lower Bengal to Rajpootana, and separating Northern India from the
southern or peninsular portion of the empire. This will carry the
narrative into regions very little mentioned in former chapters—such as
Nagpoor, the Saugor and Nerbudda territories, Bundelcund and Rewah, the
Mahratta states and the Rajpoot states—regions that will be briefly
described, so far as to render the proceedings of the native troops
intelligible.
We begin with Nagpoor, a country now belonging to the British
government, and considerably larger than England and Wales.
This province was acquired, not so much by conquest, as by one of those
intricate arrangements concerning dynasty which have brought so many
native states under British rule. It is in general an elevated country,
containing many offshoots from the Vindhya range of mountains. Some
parts of it, towards the southeast, have never been explored by
Europeans, but are believed to be hilly, wooded, and full of jungles,
inhabited by the semi-barbarous tribe of Ghonds. The remainder is better
known and better cultivated; and being on the high road from Calcutta to
Bombay, possesses much political importance. The population exceeds four
millions and a half. Early in the last century, one of the Mahratta
chieftains conquered Nagpoor from the rajahs who had before governed it;
and he and his descendants, or other ambitious members of the Mahratta
family, continued to hold it as Rajahs of Nagpoor or Berar. Although
constantly fighting one with another, these Mahrattas were on fair terms
with the East India Company until 1803, when, unluckily for the
continuance of his rule, the native rajah joined Scindia in the war
against the British. As a consequence, when peace was restored in 1804,
he was forced to yield Cuttack and other provinces to the conquerors. In
1817, another Rajah of Nagpoor joined the Peishwa of the Mahrattas in
hostilities against the British—a course which led to his expulsion from
the raj, and to a further increase of British influence. Then followed a
period during which one rajah was imbecile, another under age, and many
unscrupulous chieftains sought to gain an ascendency one over another.
This was precisely the state of things which rendered the British
resident more and more powerful, setting up and putting down rajahs, and
allowing the competitors to weaken the whole native rule by weakening
each other. The history of British India may be almost told in such
words as these. At length, in 1853, the last rajah, Ragojee, died—not
only without heirs, but without any male relations who could support a
legitimate claim to the raj. Thereupon, the governor-general quietly
annexed this large country to the Company’s dominions. It will be
remembered (p. 4) that the Marquis of Dalhousie, in his minute,
despatched this subject in a very few lines; not asserting that the
British had actually any right to the country; but ‘wisely incorporated
it,’ as no one else could put in a legitimate claim for it, and as it
would have been imprudent ‘to bestow the territory in free gift upon a
stranger.’ The Nagpoor territory was placed under the management of a
commissioner, who was immediately subordinate to the governor-general in
council; seeing that the Bengal Presidency was already too large to have
this considerable country attached to it for governmental purposes.
At and soon after the time of the outbreak, there were the 1st regiment
irregular infantry, the Kamptee irregulars, an irregular horse-battery,
and a body of European gunners, stationed in the city of Nagpoor, or in
Kamptee, eleven miles distant; the 2d infantry and a detachment of the
1st were at Chandah; a detachment of the 1st at Bhandara; the chief
portion of the 3d at Rajpoor; and the remainder of the same regiment at
Bilaspoor. The arsenal, containing guns, arms, ammunition, and military
stores of every description; and the treasury of the province, with a
large amount of Company’s funds—were close to the city. Mr Plowden
filled the office of commissioner at that period. With a mere handful of
Europeans in the midst of a very extensive territory, he often trembled
in thought for the safety of his position, and of British interests
generally, in the region placed under his keeping. He had numerous
native troops with him, and a large city under his control; if anything
sinister should arise, he was far away from any extraneous aid—being
nearly six hundred miles distant from Madras, and still further from
Calcutta. But, whatever were his anxieties (and they were many), he put
on a calm bearing towards the natives of Nagpoor. This city, the capital
of the territory bearing the same name, is a dirty, irregular,
straggling place, nearly seven miles in circumference. Most of the
houses are mud-built; and even the palace of the late rajah is little
more than a clumsy pile of unfinished masonry. The city has become
rather famous for its banking business, and for its manufactures of
cottons, chintzes, turbans, silks, brocades, woollens, blankets,
tent-cloths, and other textile goods. The population exceeds a hundred
thousand. There is nothing of a military appearance about the city; but
whoever commands the Seetabuldee, commands Nagpoor itself. This
Seetabuldee is a hilly ridge close to the city on the west, having two
summits, the northern the higher, the southern the larger, but every
part overlooking the city, and fortified. Such being the topographical
position of his seat of government, Mr Plowden proceeded to disarm such
of his troops as excited disquietude in his mind, and to strengthen the
Seetabuldee. A corps of irregular cavalry shewed symptoms of disloyalty;
and indeed rumours were afloat that on a particular day the ascent of a
balloon was to be a signal for the revolt of the troops. Under these
circumstances, Mr Plowden arranged with Colonel Cumberlege, the
commandant, to disarm them on the morning of the 23d of June—the colonel
having the 4th regiment of Madras cavalry, on whom he fully relied, to
enforce the order for disbanding. The irregulars were paraded, mounted
and fully armed, to shew that the authorities were not afraid of them.
Mr Plowden having addressed them, they quietly gave up their arms and
their saddles, which were taken in carts to the arsenal; and thus six
hundred and fifty troopers were left with nothing but their bare horses,
and ropes to picket them. Some of the men and of the native officers
were arrested, and put on their trial for an attempt to excite mutiny.
The roll was called over every four hours, and every native soldier
absent, or found outside the lines without a pass, was treated as a
deserter. The 1st regiment irregular infantry assisted in the disarming
of the troopers. Following up the measures thus promptly taken, the
commissioner strengthened the defences on the Seetabuldee hill, as a
last refuge for the Europeans at Nagpoor in the event of any actual
mutiny at that place. The Residency became a barrack at night for all
the civil and military officers; and a watchful eye was kept on the
natives generally. At present, all was safe in Nagpoor.
Another province, and another commissioner in charge of it, now come for
notice. This province, bearing the rather lengthened name of the Saugor
and Nerbudda Territories, is about half the size of England, and is
bounded by the various provinces or regions of Nagpoor, Mirzapore,
Allahabad, Banda, Bundelcund, Gwalior, Bhopal, and the Nizam’s state of
Hyderabad. It corresponds more nearly with the exact centre of India
than any other portion of territory. One half of its name is derived
from the town of Saugor, the other half from the river Nerbudda. To
describe the scraps and patches of which it consists, and the means by
which they were acquired, would be neither easy nor necessary. Within
its limits is the small independent state of Rewah, the rajah of which
was bound to the British government by a treaty of alliance. Four other
petty states—Kotee, Myhir, Oocheyra, and Sohawul—were in the hands of
native chieftains, mere feudatories of the Company, under whose grants
they held their possessions; allowed to govern their small
sovereignties, but subject at any moment to the supervision and
interference of the paramount power. The larger portion, now entirely
British, is marked by the towns and districts of Saugor, Jubbulpoor,
Hosungabad, Seuni, Nursingpore, Baitool, Sohagpoor, and others of less
importance. There are still many aboriginal Ghonds in the province, as
in Nagpoor, lurking in the gloomiest recesses of dense forests, and
subsisting for the most part on wild roots and fruits. There are other
half-savage tribes of Koles, Palis, and Panwars; while the more
civilised population comprises a singular mixture of Brahmins, Bundelas,
Rajpoots, Mahrattas, and Patans. The Mahrattas at one time claimed this
region, on the same plea as those east and west of it—the right of
conquest; and the British obtained it from the Mahrattas, about forty
years ago, by cession after a course of hostilities.
Major Erskine was commissioner of the Saugor and Nerbudda territories
during the early weeks of the mutiny; responsible, not immediately to
the governor-general at Calcutta, but to the lieutenant-governor of the
Northwest Provinces at Agra. Like Mr Plowden at Nagpoor, he felt how
imperiled he and his fellow-Europeans would be if the native troops were
to rebel. At Jhansi and at Nuseerabad, as we shall presently see, revolt
and massacre marked the first week in June; and Major Erskine sought
earnestly for means to prevent his own Saugor troops from being tempted
to a similar course. He was with the 52d native infantry at Jubbulpoor.
He wrote on the 9th of June to Brigadier Prior at Kamptee, praying
him—while keeping that station and Seuni intact—to prevent, if possible,
all news of the mutineers from passing to Jubbulpoor by that route; he
feared lest his 52d should yield to the influence of pernicious example.
Seuni was a small civil station, nearly midway between Jubbulpoor and
Nagpoor, and about eighty miles distant from each; while Kamptee was a
cantonment of Madras regulars, eleven miles north of Nagpoor. The four
places named, in fact, stand nearly in a line north and south, and
interpose between the Mahratta states and Lower Bengal. Mr Plowden at
Nagpoor, Major Erskine at Jubbulpoor, and Brigadier Prior at Kamptee,
thereupon concerted measures for preserving, so far as they could, that
region of India from disturbance; they all three agreed that
‘tranquillity will be most effectually secured by crushing disaffection
before it approaches too near to agitate men’s minds dangerously.’ One
consequence of this arrangement was, that a force was sent on the 13th
to Seuni, under Major Baker; consisting of the 32d native infantry, a
squadron of the 4th light cavalry, a squadron of irregular cavalry, and
three field-guns.
The Europeans at Jubbulpoor were not allowed to pass through the month
of June without many doubts and anxieties. The native troops, though not
actually in mutiny, were seized with a mingled feeling of fear and
exasperation when European troops were mentioned; they were in perpetual
apprehension, from the countless rumours at that time circulating
throughout India, that Europeans were about to approach and disarm them,
as degraded and distrusted men. Jubbulpoor is a large thriving town,
which at the time of the mutiny contained a small cantonment for native
troops, and a political agency subsidiary to that at Saugor. On one
occasion, this report of the approach of European troops seized so
forcibly on the minds of the sepoys, that the subadar-major, a trusted
and influential man, lost all control over them; and they were not
satisfied until their English colonel allowed two or three from each
company to go out and scour the country, to satisfy themselves and the
rest whether the rumour were true or false. On another occasion, one of
the sepoys rose with a shout of ‘Death to the Feringhees,’ and
endeavoured to bayonet the adjutant; but his companions did not aid him;
and the authorities deemed it prudent to treat him as a madman, to be
confined and not shot. When troops were marched from Kamptee to Seuni,
in accordance with the arrangements mentioned in the last paragraph, the
sepoys at Jubbulpoor were at once told of it, lest their excited minds
should be again aroused on the subject of Europeans. Some of the English
officers felt the humiliation involved in this kind of petting and
pampering; but danger was around them, and they were obliged to
temporise. A few ladies had been sent to Kamptee; all else remained with
their husbands, seldom taking off their clothes at night, and holding
themselves ready to flee at an hour’s warning. Such a state of affairs,
though less perilous, was almost as mentally distressing as actual
mutiny. As the month drew to a close, and the perpetual anxiety and
expectation were becoming wearisome to all, the Europeans resolved to
fortify the Residency. This they did, and moreover stored it with six
months’ provision for about sixty persons, including thirty ladies and
children; and for several civilians, who had also to be provided for.
Saugor was placed in some such predicament as Jubbulpoor; its European
officers had much to plan, much to execute, to enable them to pass
safely through the perils of the month of June. This town, the capital
of the province in political matters, possessed a military cantonment on
the borders of a lake on which the town stands; a large fort, which had
been converted into an ordnance depôt; and a population of fifty
thousand souls, chiefly Mahrattas. At the time of the outbreak,
Brigadier Sage commanded the Saugor district force, and had under him
the 31st and 42d native infantry regiments, a regiment of native
cavalry, and about seventy European gunners. The fort, the magazine, and
the battering-train were at one end of the cantonment; an eminence,
called the Artillery Hill, was at the other end, three miles off; and
the brigadier felt that if mutiny should occur, he would hardly be able
to hold both positions. During many minor transactions in the district,
requiring the presence of small detachments from Saugor, the temper of
the troops was made sufficiently manifest; sometimes the 31st shewed bad
symptoms, sometimes the 42d; two or three men were detected in plans for
murdering their officers; and petty rajahs in the district offered the
sepoys higher pay if they would change their allegiance. The European
inhabitants of Saugor becoming very uneasy, the brigadier cleared out
the fort, converted it into a place of refuge for women and children,
supplied it with useful furniture and other articles, and succeeded in
supplanting sepoys by Europeans in guard of the fort, the magazine, and
the treasury. The fort being provisioned for six months, and the guns
secured, Brigadier Sage felt himself in a position to adopt a resolute
tone towards the native troops, without compromising the safety of the
numerous persons congregated within it—comprising a hundred and thirty
officers and civilians, and a hundred and sixty women and children, all
the Europeans of the place. Thus ended June. It may simply be added
here, that during the early part of the following month, the 31st and
42d regiments had a desperate fight, the former willing to be faithful,
and the latter to mutiny. The brigadier, not feeling quite sure even of
the 31st, would not place either his officers or his guns at their
mercy, but he sent out of the fort a few men to aid them. The irregular
cavalry joined the 42d; but both corps were ultimately beaten off by the
31st—to carry wild disorder into other towns and districts.[26]
Without dwelling on minor mutinies at Dumoh and other places in the
Saugor province, we will transfer our attention northward to Bundelcund;
where Jhansi was the scene of a terrible catastrophe, and where riot and
plunder were in the ascendant throughout the month of June. Bundelcund,
the country of the Bundelas, affords a curious example of the mode in
which a region became in past times cut up into a number of petty
states, and then fell in great part into British hands. It is a strip of
country, about half the size of Scotland, lying south or southwest of
the Jumna, and separated by that river from the Doab. The country was in
the hands of the Rajpoots until the close of the fourteenth century;
when another tribe, the Bundelas, began a system of predatory incursions
which led to their ultimate possession of the whole tract. Early in the
last century there was a chief of Western Bundelcund tributary to the
Great Mogul, and another in Eastern Bundelcund supported by the
Mahrattas against that sovereign. How one chief rose against another,
and how each obtained a patch of territory for himself, need not be
told; it was only an exemplification of a process to which Asiatics have
been accustomed from the earliest ages. About the close of the century,
the East India Company began to obtain possession here, by conquest or
by treaty; and in 1817, after a war with the Mahrattas, a large increase
was made in this ownership. These are matters needful to be borne in
mind here; for, though the country is but small, it now contains five or
six districts belonging to the British, and nine native princedoms or
rajahships; besides numerous petty jaghires or domains that may in some
sense be compared to the smallest states of the Germanic confederation.
At the time of the mutiny, the British districts were managed under the
lieutenant-governor of the Northwest Provinces; while the ‘political
superintendence,’ as it was called, of the native states was in the
hands of an agent appointed by, and directly responsible to, the
governor-general. With the principal native states, of which Jhansi was
one, the British government had engagements, varying on minor points
according to circumstances, but all recognising its supremacy, and
binding the dependent state to the relinquishment of all political
relations except with the superior power. Some were tributary; some
exempt from that obligation. The chief towns in the portion of
Bundelcund belonging to the British are Jhansi, Banda, and Jaloun.
Bundelcund, we have said, was the scene of much outrage, especially at
Jhansi. This town, lying on the main route from Agra to Saugor, was much
frequented in the last century by caravans of merchants who traded
between the Doab and the Deccan; and it is still a prosperous commercial
place, rendered conspicuous by the castellated residence of the former
rajahs. The Jhansi mutiny was not followed by so many adventures and
wanderings as that at other places—for a very mournful reason; nearly
all the Europeans were at once put to death. A fort in the town had been
previously supplied with food and ammunition, and had been agreed on as
a place of refuge in time of danger. Major Skene and Captain Gordon,
civil officers of the Company, received information which tended to shew
that a petty chieftain near Jhansi was tampering with the troops; and
Captain Dunlop, in command there, made what defensive preparations he
could. Besides the fort in the town, there was one called the Star Fort
in the cantonment, containing the guns and the treasure. The native
troops—portions of the 12th infantry and of the 14th irregular cavalry,
and a few artillery—rose on the afternoon of the 4th of June, seized the
Star Fort, and shot at all the officers in the cantonment; many were
killed, and the rest ran to the Town Fort, which they barricaded as well
as they were able. The little garrison of Europeans then prepared for a
siege; but it could be only of short duration, as the place was too weak
to contend against the rebel besiegers. Musketry and sword-cuts (for the
garrison often met their assailants hand to hand at the gates) brought
down many; and some of the civilians, who tried to escape disguised as
natives, were caught by the insurgents and killed. At last, when
Captains Dunlop and Gordon, and many other officers had fallen, and when
the remaining Europeans had become disheartened, by the scarcity of
ammunition and of food, Major Skene accepted terms offered to him, on
oath—that the whole of the garrison should be spared if he opened the
gate and surrendered. The blood-thirsty villains soon shewed the value
of the oath they had taken. They seized all—men, women, and children—and
bound them in two rows to ropes, the men in one row and the women and
children in the other. The whole were then deliberately put to death;
the poor ladies stood with their infants in their arms, and their elder
children clinging to their gowns; and when the husbands and fathers had
been slaughtered, then came the other half of the tragedy. It is even
said that the innocent children were cut in halves before their mothers’
eyes. One relief, and one only, marked the scene; there was not, so far
as is known, torture and violation of women as precursors of death. The
death-list was a sad one. Skene, Dunlop, Gordon, Ryves, Taylor,
Campbell, Burgess, Turnbull—all were military officers in the Company’s
service, employed either on military or civil duties; and all were
killed. Twenty-four civil servants and non-commissioned officers
likewise met with their death; and most painful of all, nineteen ladies
and twenty-three children were butchered by the treacherous miscreants.
Mr Thornton, the collector for a district between Jhansi and Cawnpore,
was afterwards in a position to inform the government that the mutinous
troops intended to have left Jhansi after they had captured the
treasure; that a Bundelcund chieftainess, the Ranee of Jhansi, wishing
to regain power in the district, bribed them with large presents to take
the fort and put all the Europeans to death before they finally departed
for Delhi; and that it was thus to a _woman_ that was due the inhuman
slaughtering of more than forty European ladies and children. One
account, that reached the ears of officers at other stations, was to the
effect that when Major Skene became aware of the miscreant treachery, he
kissed his wife, shot her, and then shot himself, to avert apprehended
atrocities worse than death; while another narrative or rumour
represented the murderers as having chopped off the heads of the
victims, instead of merely shooting them; but, in truth, the destruction
was so complete that scarcely one was left to tell the tale except
natives, who contradicted each other in some of the particulars.
Jhansi of course soon became a prey to lawless marauders; while the
mutineers marched off to Delhi or elsewhere. Lieutenant Osborne, at
Rewah, was placed in a difficult position at that time. Rewah is a small
Rajpoot state, ruled by a native rajah, who is bound by treaties with
the British government, and who has a British agent as resident at his
court. Rewah was nearly surrounded by mutinous districts, such as
Benares, Allahabad, Futtehpoor, Jhansi, Saugor, and Jubbulpoor; and it
became a difficult problem for Lieutenant Osborne, the British agent,
how to keep wild disorder away from that place. On the 8th of June, by
an energetic use of his influence, he was able to announce that the
Maharajah of Rewah had placed his troops at the disposal of the
government; that the offer had been accepted; and that eight hundred of
those troops, with two guns, had been sent off to Ummapatan, a place
which commanded the roads to Jubbulpoor, Nagode, and Saugor—ready to
oppose insurgents from any of those towns, and to intercept
communication with other mutinous towns on the Jumna. He also sent
eleven hundred of the Maharajah’s troops, with five guns, to Kuttra
Pass: a spot whence a rapid advance could be made to Benares, Chunar, or
Mirzapore, according as military exigencies might render desirable. A
week later, he obtained permission from the Maharajah to send seven
hundred troops to Banda; and at the same time to issue a proclamation,
promising rewards to any of his soldiers who should distinguish
themselves by their gallantry and fidelity. With no higher military rank
than that of lieutenant did this active officer thus lay plans, not only
for the peace of the Rewah territory itself, but also in aid of the
Company’s officers all around him. His position at a later date was very
perilous.
If the destruction of life was less at Nowgong than at Jhansi, the
proceedings of mutinous troops were followed by much more adventure and
varied interest. Nowgong or Nowgaon is situated about a hundred miles
southeast of the last-named town, but, like it, in the Bundelcund
territory. At the beginning of June there were stationed at that place
about four hundred men of the 12th native infantry, and rather over two
hundred of the 14th irregular cavalry—wings of the same two regiments as
at Jhansi; together with a company of the 9th battalion of artillery,
and a light field bullock-battery. Major Kirke, commanding the station,
had in earlier weeks often discussed the cartridge question with his
men, and believed he had removed from their minds all misgivings on that
unfortunate subject. Nevertheless, as June approached, the major deemed
the appearance of affairs so suspicious, that he made such precautionary
arrangements as were practicable to resist an outbreak. Bungalows were
now and then discovered to be in flames, without any means of detecting
the incendiaries. When the atrocities at Meerut and elsewhere became
known, the troops stationed at Nowgong made ardent demonstrations of
loyalty—so ardent, that Kirke almost upbraided himself for his momentary
distrust of them; the infantry embraced their colours, the artillery
embraced their guns, and all asserted their burning desire to chastise
the rebels who had proved faithless to the Company Bahadoor. So late as
the 6th of June, even while whisperings and ominous signs were passing
between them, these unreliable men sent in a grandiloquent petition, in
which they said: ‘As it is necessary to avenge the government on those
cowardly rascals who now, in Delhi and other places, are exciting
rebellion, and for which purpose many European regiments are being
despatched; we, hearing of this, are exceedingly desirous that we be
sent as volunteers to chastise these scoundrels. And that we may shew
from our hearts our faithfulness, we are ready to go wherever sent’—and
more to the same purpose. This petition or address was presented to
Major Kirke by the wing of the 12th regiment. On that same day news
arrived that the other wing of the same regiment had mutinied at Jhansi;
and the Neemuch men, either with childish indecision or with profound
duplicity, sent off a letter to them, reproving them for their
insubordination! On the 10th, a petition was presented by the commandant
of the artillery (4th company, 9th battalion), couched in similar
language; demanding that the artillery might be sent against the rebels;
‘in order,’ as the petition averred, ‘that we may fulfil the wish of our
hearts by shewing our bravery and loyalty.’
Never were words uttered more hollow and treacherous. By nightfall on
that same 10th of June, the native troops at Nowgong were nearly all
rebels, and the Europeans nearly all fugitives. A few hours sufficed to
shew the English officers that they were powerless to contend against
their opponents. Flight commenced. The officers and civilians, with
their families, and Europeans of humbler station, all took their
departure from Nowgong—some in buggies, some on horseback, and some on
foot; but all equally reft of their worldly property. Were it not that
this Chronicle has already contained examples, mournfully numerous, of
similar wanderings over the scorching roads and through the thick jungle
of India, the fate of the Nowgong party might afford materials for a
very exciting narrative; but with the reader’s experience on this
matter, a few lines of description will suffice. The party was a large
one. It comprised Major Kirke, Captain Scot, Lieutenants Townshend,
Jackson, Remington, Ewart, Franks, and Barber, about forty other
Europeans of both sexes and all ages, and about ninety sepoys of the
mutinous infantry, who had not joined their brethren. The fugitives
lessened in number every day; some or other of them sank under the heat
and fatigue; while the sepoys deserted when they approached towns where
insurgents were in the ascendant. Either collectively or separately the
wanderers found themselves on different days at Chutterpore, at
Logassee, at Churkaree, at Mahoba, at Callingurh, at Kabrai, at
Banda—places mostly belonging to petty rajahs of Bundelcund. The
principal survivors of the party were about ten or twelve days on the
roads and fields, before they reached friendly quarters at Banda. On one
occasion they were attacked by a band of marauders, and had to buy
security with rupees; on another, their sepoys were seized with a panic,
and ran off in large numbers; on a third, a body of matchlockmen
suddenly confronted them, and shot down Lieutenant Townshend. On one
part of the journey, Captain Scot found himself in the midst of a
distressing group of women and children: having poor Townshend’s horse
with him, he loaded both horses with as many as he could carry; but it
made him heart-sick to see the others fall away one by one, utterly
broken down by fatigue, and with insufficient men to help them along—for
the flight appears to have been wanting in every semblance of
organisation. A bandsman’s wife dropped dead through a sun-stroke; then
an artillery sergeant, worn out, went into a hut to die. Captain Scot
came up with a lady and her child, reeling along the road as if
delirious; he readjusted his horse-load, took up the fugitives, and the
lady very speedily died in his arms. Shortly after this a fine hale
sergeant-major sank, to rise no more; Major Kirke died through a
sun-stroke; and others dropped off in a similar way. Dr Mawe died from
illness and fatigue; and then his wife, while laving her blistered feet
in a pool, was set upon by ruffians and robbed of the little she had
about her. Captain Scot, after many changes in his horse-load, took up
Dr Mawe’s child; and ‘little Lotty,’ of two years’ old, seemed to him a
blessing rather than a burden; for on the few occasions when he met
friendly natives, their friendship was generally gained for him by the
sight of the little girl, whose head he endeavoured to shield from the
burning sun by a portion of his shirt—the only resource for one who had
lost both hat and coat, and whose own head was nearly driven wild by the
intense solar heat. It is pleasant to know that the captain and ‘little
Lotty’ were among the few who reached a place of safety.
Banda was another of the stations affected; but the details of its
troubles need not be traced here. Suffice it to say that, on the 14th of
June, there was a mutiny of a detachment of native infantry, and a few
troops belonging to the Nawab of Banda—a titular prince, possessing no
political power, but enjoying a pension from the Company, and having a
sort of honorary body-guard of native troops. The officers and their
families were at first in great peril; but the nawab aided them in
making a safe retreat to Nagode. On the 16th of June, Major Ellis had to
announce to the government that his station at Nagode was beginning to
be filled with anxious fugitives from Banda, Futtehpoor, Humeerpoor, and
Ameerpoor; comprising military officers, magistrates, salt-agents,
revenue servants, railway officials, and private persons. Twenty-eight
of these fugitives arrived on one day. He sent to many petty chieftains
of Bundelcund, who were pensioners under the Company or had treaties
with it, to exert themselves to the utmost in recovering all property
seized during the events of the preceding two or three days in the Banda
district. Major Ellis at Nagode, and Mr Mayne at Banda, applied
earnestly to Calcutta for military assistance; but they were told
plainly that none could be sent to them, every European soldier being
needed in the Ganges and Jumna regions.
It now becomes necessary, on removing the scene further to the west, to
know something concerning the Mahrattas, their relations to the two
great families of Scindia and Holkar, the conventions existing between
those two families and the British government, and the military
arrangements of the Mahratta territories at the time of the outbreak.
These matters can be rendered intelligible without any very lengthened
historical narrative.
After the death of the Emperor Aurungzebe, a century and a half ago,
India was distracted and impoverished by the contentions of his sons and
descendants; each of whom, in claiming the throne, secured the
partisanship of powerful nobles, and the military aid of fighting-men in
the pay of those nobles. A civil war of terrible kind was the natural
result; and equally natural was it that other chieftains, in nowise
related to the imperial family, should take advantage of the anarchy to
found dynasties for themselves. One such chieftain was Sevajee, a
Mahratta in the service of the King of Bejapore, in the southern part of
India. The Mahrattas were (and are) a peculiar tribe of Hindoos, more
fierce and predatory than most of their fellow-countrymen. Long before
Europeans settled in India, the Mahrattas were the chief tribe in the
region north, south, and east of the present city of Bombay. After many
struggles against the competitors for the throne of Delhi, the Mahrattas
were left in possession of a sovereign state, of which Satara and Poonah
were the chief cities. From 1707 till 1818, the nominal sovereign or
rajah of the Mahrattas had no real power; he was a sort of state or
honorary prisoner, confined in the hill-fortress of Satara; while the
government was administered by the Peishwa or prime minister, whose
office became hereditary in a particular family, and whose seat of
government was at Poonah. After many Peishwas had held this singular
kind of sovereignty at the one city—the nominal rajah being all the time
powerless at the other—circumstances occurred which led to an
intermeddling of the East India Company with Mahratta politics, followed
by the usual results. Narrain Rao Peishwa was murdered in 1773; many
relations of the murdered man competed for the succession; and as the
Company greatly desired to possess the island of Salsette and the town
of Bassein, at that time belonging to the Mahrattas, it was soon seen
that this wish might be gratified by aiding one competitor against
another. Battles and intrigues followed, ending in the possession of the
two coveted places by the British, and in the appointment of a British
resident at the Peishwa’s court at Poonah. Thus matters remained until
1817, when the Peishwa engaged in intrigues with other Mahratta chiefs
against the British; a course that led to his total overthrow after a
few fierce contests in the field. The Mahratta sovereignty at Poonah was
entirely put an end to, except a small principality assigned to the
Rajah of Satara, the almost forgotten representative of the founder of
the Mahratta rule. The British took all the remaining territory,
pensioning off the Peishwa; and as to Satara, after several rajahs had
reigned, under the close control of the British resident at that city,
the principality ‘lapsed’ in 1848, in default of legitimate male heirs—a
lapse that led to the preparation of many ponderous blue books
concerning the grievances and complaints of a certain adopted son of the
last rajah.
Thus much for the south Mahratta country, having Poonah and Satara for
its chief cities; but the British have had fully as much to do with the
northern portion of the Mahratta region, represented by the two cities
of Gwalior and Indore, and held by the two great Mahratta families of
Scindia and Holkar. As the Peishwas in past years cared little for the
nominal head of the Mahrattas at Satara, so did the Scindias and Holkars
care little for the Peishwas. Each chieftain endeavoured to become an
independent sovereign. The Scindia family is traceable up to the year
1720, when Ranojee Scindia was one of the dependents of the Peishwa.
From that year, by predatory expeditions and by intrigues, the
successive heads of the Scindia family became more and more
powerful—contending in turn against the Mogul, the Rajpoots, the
Peishwa, and the British; until at length, in 1784, Madhajee Scindia was
recognised as an independent sovereign prince, with the hill-fortress of
Gwalior as his stronghold and seat of government. In 1794, when Madhajee
died, the Scindia dominions extended from beyond Delhi on the north to
near Bombay on the south, and from the Ganges to Gujerat—a vast region,
held and acquired by means as atrocious as any recorded in the history
of India. Early in the present century, the power of the Scindia family
received a severe check. Hostilities having broken out with the British,
Sir Arthur Wellesley (afterwards Duke of Wellington) defeated Dowlut Rao
Scindia at Assaye in 1803, while Lord Lake drove the Mahrattas from the
whole of the Doab. Many desperate wars occurred in later years, ending,
in 1844, by a treaty which left Bajerut Rao Scindia king or rajah of a
state barely equalling England in area, with Gwalior as his capital. A
contingent or body of troops was to be supplied by him for the service
of the British, beyond which he was permitted to have an independent
army of nine thousand men; and there were numerous minor details which
gave much influence to the British resident at Gwalior.
Of the family of Holkar, almost the same account may be given as of that
of Scindia; inasmuch as it has sprung from a Mahratta leader who
acquired power a century and a half ago. The city of Indore has always
been the centre of dominion belonging to this family—a dominion
extending over a very wide region at some periods, but greatly
contracted in recent times. The ruler of the Indore territory at the
time of the mutiny was one Mulkerjee Holkar, who had been appointed by
the Calcutta government at a time of disputed succession, in such a way
as to imply that the territory might pass into British hands whenever
the Company chose. Holkar’s territory is now much smaller than
Scindia’s, scarcely exceeding Wales in area.
It will suffice, then, to bear in mind that the southern Mahratta power,
that of the courts of Poonah and Satara, had wholly fallen into British
hands before the time of the mutiny; and that the northern power, held
by the courts of Gwalior and Indore, extended over a country no larger
than England and Wales united. Nevertheless, considering that that
portion of central India is bounded by Bundelcund, the Doab, Rajpootana,
Gujerat, the Nizam’s dominions, and the Saugor and Nerbudda territories,
it was of much importance to the British that Scindia and Holkar should
remain faithful to their alliances at a critical period.
Although Nuseerabad is properly in Rajpootana, of which a few words of
description will be given shortly, the mutiny at that place may
conveniently be treated here; because it was a link in a chain which
successively affected Neemuch, Indore, Mhow, and Gwalior.
Nuseerabad is near Ajmeer, the chief town of a British district
surrounded by the dominions of independent or semi-independent rajahs.
Ajmeer, though far smaller than most of the principal cities in India,
is an ancient and important place, about two hundred and sixty miles
southwest of Delhi; at the time of the mutiny, it was the seat of a
British political agency; and in a ruined palace of the Emperor Akbar,
converted into an arsenal, was a powder-magazine. Nuseerabad, fifteen
miles from Ajmeer, may be regarded as the military station for that
city, and for the neighbouring British districts; it had an extensive
and well-laid-out cantonment, and was the head-quarters of the corps
known as the Rajpootana Field-force. Nuseerabad had been nearly drained
of troops early in the year, on account of the Persian expedition; but
this gap was afterwards partially filled up. In the month of May there
were at the station the 1st regiment Bombay lancers, the 15th and 30th
Bengal native infantry, and the 2d company of the 7th battalion of
Bengal native artillery. An instructive fact was made manifest; the
Bombay troops remained faithful, while those of the Bengal army became
first restless, then mutinous, then murderous. Unfortunately, the good
were not strong enough to coerce the bad; the Bombay lancers numbered
only two hundred and fifty sabres. The month of May had not closed when
the disturbances at Nuseerabad began. The officers had been nightly in
the habit of sleeping with revolvers and swords near at hand; while the
Bombay lancers patrolled the cantonment—so suspicious were the symptoms
observed. On the evening of the 28th a servant rushed into the bungalow
of one of the lieutenants of the 15th infantry, announcing that the
regiment had risen. The officers hastened to the lines, and there found
the regiment drawn up in companies—the martial array being maintained in
mutiny as it had been in regular drill. The men looked sternly at their
officers; and soon worse news arrived. The native artillerymen who
worked the six guns joined the revolters—not actually firing on the
officers, but ready to do so. The Englishmen connected with the two
regiments were a mere handful; they were powerless, for none of the
sepoys would aid them against the rest. Colonel Penny, in command of the
Bombay lancers, instantly hastened down, armed and mounted his troopers,
and drew them up into position. Galloping to the artillery lines, and
finding the guns pointed against him, he immediately ordered a charge
for capturing them, each troop charging in succession. Captain
Spottiswoode began, and soon fell mortally wounded; other officers led
subsequent charges, but the guns could not be taken. Penny then felt
obliged to relinquish this attempt, and to hold himself in readiness to
check the mutineers in other ways; but as the two regiments of native
infantry refused to listen to their officers, nothing was left but
flight. Cornet Newberry, as well as Captain Spottiswoode, fell while
charging; Colonel Penny became suddenly ill and died in a few hours;
while two or three other officers were wounded. How perilous were those
cavalry-charges against the six guns may be judged from a letter written
by one of the officers: ‘I galloped towards the guns, and must have been
eighty or a hundred yards from them when I began to experience the
unpleasant sensation of bullets whizzing past my head, and saw a lot of
sepoys taking shots at me as I came along. I immediately turned my
pony’s head, and endeavoured to retreat under cover of a wall which ran
in front of the artillery lines. Here I saw more men running up with the
kind intention of having a crack at me; so I had to keep along the
parade-ground right in the line of fire, and had one or two men popping
at me from over the wall on my right. My tât (pony) went as fast as ever
he could go, and, thanks be to God, carried me back in perfect
safety.... Off we started towards the cavalry lines amid showers of
bullets. I dodged round the first bell of arms; and as I passed the
bells, saw three or four men behind each, who deliberately shot at us as
we passed.’ The ladies had been sent off from the station just in time.
The surviving officers joined them beyond the cantonment about
nightfall, and then all hastened away. They rode forty miles during the
night, on roads and fields and rocky hills, and reached a place of
safety, Beaur or Beawur, towards noon—hungry, tired, and reft of
everything but the clothes on their backs.
As this small body of Bombay native cavalry remained stanch when the
Bengal troops were faithless all around them, it was deemed right to
make some public acknowledgment of the fact. Lord Elphinstone, as
president or governor of Bombay, issued a general order on the subject,
thanking the troopers, and passing lightly over the fact that a few of
them afterwards disgraced themselves.[27] The commander-in-chief
afterwards ordered the report of the transaction by Captain Hardy, who
took the control of the lancers when Colonel Penny died, to be
translated into the Hindustani and Mahratta languages, and read to all
the regiments of the Bombay native army, as an encouragement to them in
the path of duty. After the English officers and their families had
escaped to Beaur, the mutinous troops made off towards Delhi. Nuseerabad
being considered an important station in regard to the control of the
surrounding districts, a force was sent to reoccupy it towards the end
of June; comprising a detachment of H.M. 83d foot, another of the 20th
Bombay native infantry, another of the Jhodpore legion, and a squadron
of the 2d Bombay cavalry—Nuseerabad being sufficiently near Bombay to
derive advantages not possessed by stations further east.
The usual consequences of the revolt of native regiments followed.
Nuseerabad furnished a bad example to Neemuch. As a village, Neemuch is
of small consequence; as a military station, its importance is
considerable. During some of the negotiations with Scindia in past
years, it was agreed that the British should have a cantonment at this
spot, which is on the confines of Malwah and Mewar, about three hundred
miles southwest of Agra; a force in British pay was to be stationed
there, by virtue of certain terms in a treaty, and a small district,
with the village in the centre, was made over to the Company for this
purpose. The cantonment thereupon built was two or three miles long by a
mile in width, and comprised the usual native infantry lines, cavalry
lines, artillery lines, head-quarters, offices, bungalows, bazaar,
parade-ground, &c. There was also a small fort or fortified square
built, as a place of refuge for the families of the military when called
to a distance on duty.
In the early part of June, the troops stationed at Neemuch comprised the
72d Bengal N. I., the 7th regiment of Gwalior infantry, two troops of
the 1st Bengal light cavalry, and a troop of horse-artillery. Every
effort had been made in the early weeks of the mutiny to insure the
confidence of these troops, and prevent them from joining the standard
of rebellion. Colonel Abbott, and most of the officers of the 72d, as
well even as some of their families, slept within the sepoy lines, to
win the good-will of the men by a generous confidence. One wing (three
companies) of the Gwalior troops held the fortified square and treasury;
while the other wing (five companies), now quartered in a vacant
hospital, about a quarter of a mile distant, was encamped just outside
the walls; Captain Macdonald, the chief officer, residing with the
first-named wing. Colonel Abbott, who commanded the station generally,
as well as the 72d regiment in particular, became convinced, on the
morning of the 2d of June, that all the hopeful expectations of himself
and brother-officers were likely to be dashed; for the troops at Neemuch
had heard of the mutiny at Nuseerabad, and could be restrained no
longer. While the superintendent, Captain Lloyd, hastened to secure some
of the Company’s records and accounts, and to open a line of retreat for
fugitives along the Odeypore road, Colonel Abbott made such military
arrangements as were practicable on the spur of the moment. The colonel
brought his native officers together, and talked to them so earnestly,
that he induced them to swear, ‘on the Koran and on Ganges water,’ that
they would be true to their salt; while he, at their request, swore to
his confidence in their faithful intentions. This singular compact, in
which Mohammedans, Hindoos, and a Christian swore according to the
things most solemn to them respectively, remained unbroken for
twenty-four hours; who broke it, after that interval, will at once be
guessed. During many preceding days, a panic had prevailed in the Sudder
Bazaar; incendiary fires occurred at night; great numbers of persons had
removed with their property; the wildest reports were set afloat by
designing knaves to increase the distrust; and the commonest occurrences
were distorted into phantoms of evil intended against the troops. At
last, on the night of the 3d, the troops threw off their oath and their
allegiance at once. The artillery, disregarding Lieutenant Walker’s
entreaties and expostulations, fired off two guns; the cavalry, on
hearing this signal, rushed out to join them; and the 72d broke from
their lines immediately afterwards. Captain Macdonald instantly ordered
into the fort the one wing of the Gwalior regiment which had been
encamped outside, under Lieutenants Rose and Gurdon; and then prepared
for defence. A bold and singular expedient had just before been adopted
by the civil superintendent; he authorised Macdonald to promise to the
Gwalior troops, if they faithfully defended the fort during any mutiny
outside, a reward of a hundred rupees to each sepoy or private, three
hundred to each naik or corporal, five hundred to each havildar or
sergeant, higher sums to the jemadars and subadars, and five thousand
rupees to the senior native officer, or to the one who should most
distinguish himself in preserving the loyalty of the regiment. These are
large sums to the natives of India; and the superintendent must have
considered long and fully before he promised the Company’s money in such
a manner. All was, however, in vain. The Gwalior troops remained
faithful under the temptation of this promise for a short time; but at
length, headed by a subadar named Heera Singh, they demanded that the
gates of the fort should be opened, and requested that the officers
would make arrangements for their own safety. Macdonald, Rose, Gurdon,
and other officers of the Gwalior regiment, expostulated with their men;
but entreaty was now of no avail; the troops forcibly opened the gates,
and the officers took their departure when the last vestige of hope had
been destroyed.
Of the flight, little need be said; it was such a flight as almost every
province in Northern India exhibited in those sad days. Some of the
ladies and children had been sent off a few hours earlier, hurried away
with no preparations for their comfort or even their sustenance; while
others waited to accompany their husbands or fathers. Very few had
either horses or vehicles; they laboured on footsore to Baree, to Chota
Sadree, to Burra Sadree, to Doogla—straggling parties meeting and
separating according as their strength remained or failed, and all
dependent on the villagers for food. At Doogla, where they arrived on
the third night, the officers strengthened a sort of mud-fort about
forty yards square, within which forty persons were huddled. After being
much straitened, they were relieved by Brigadier Showers on the 9th. The
fugitive party now broke up; some returned to Neemuch, which the
mutineers had abandoned; but the greater number went to Odeypore, the
rana of which place gave them a hospitable reception; some of them
afterwards went further west to Mount Aboo or Aboo Gurh—a celebrated
place of Hindoo pilgrimage to a sacred temple, and a sanatarium for the
Europeans stationed at the cantonment of Deesa, about forty miles
distant. Those of the party who returned to Neemuch, found everything
devastated, the bungalows and offices burnt, and the villagers stripped
of their stores by the mutineers, who had afterwards started off for
Agra. The officers and their families were literally beggars; they had
lost their all. No Europeans were killed save the wife and three
children of a sergeant, who could not leave Neemuch in time.
[Illustration:
Fort of Mhow.
]
Thus were lost to the British about fourteen hundred men and six guns at
Nuseerabad, and sixteen hundred men and six guns at Neemuch, all of
which went to swell the insurgent forces inside Delhi or outside Agra.
The stations of Indore and Mhow must now engage a little of our
attention—situated nearly south of Neemuch, and about four hundred miles
from Agra. Indore, as has already been stated, is the capital of
Holkar’s Mahratta dominions. It is an ill-built place, standing on the
small river Kutki, and is less than a century old: the original Indore,
or Jemnah, being on the opposite side of the river. Holkar’s palace is a
building possessing few attractions; and the like may be said of the
other native structures. The relation existing at that time between
Indore and Mhow was this—that Indore was the residence of the British
political agent at the court of Holkar; whereas Mhow, thirteen miles
distant, was the military station or cantonment. The house of the
British agent, and those of the other Europeans, were on the eastern
side of the town. The agent, at the time of the mutiny, had an escort of
cavalry and infantry at his disposal; but it was simply an escort, not a
regular military force. The agent, in addition to his duties connected
with Holkar’s court, was the immediate representative of the British
government in relation to various petty states under its protection, but
in other points differing greatly in their circumstances.
The Indore agent in May and June was Colonel Durand. All was peaceful at
that place, although much agitation was visible, until the 1st of July;
on which day mutiny occurred. Holkar’s troops rose against the English,
without, as it afterwards appeared, the privity or the wish of the
Maharajah himself. Two companies, set apart for the protection of the
Residency in the bazaar square, brought two guns to bear upon the
building; and the Europeans were horror-stricken at finding themselves
suddenly exposed to cannon and musketry. Fortunately a few men of the
Bhopal Contingent under Colonel Travers, were on duty at the Residency;
and a few of these remained faithful long enough to allow the colonel
and the other European officers, with their families, to escape. Not so
the civilians, however; many of the civil servants, and of the clerks in
the telegraph department, with their wives and children, were butchered
in cold blood. As soon as Holkar heard of the outbreak, he ordered some
of his own Mahratta troops to hasten to the Residency and aid Colonel
Durand; but they told him it was a matter of _deen_ (religion), and that
they could not act against their brethren. During the next three days
Holkar was almost a prisoner in his own palace; his troops rose in
revolt, and were speedily joined by those from Mhow, presently to be
mentioned; they plundered the treasury, the Residency, and many parts of
the town; but as he would not countenance their proceedings, they at
length marched off towards Gwalior. This affair at Indore led to the
flight of many European families, amid great misery. They collected
hastily a few ammunition-wagons, two or three bullock-carts, an
elephant, and some horses, and started off towards Sehore and
Hosungabad; escorted by a portion of the Bhopal Contingent from several
small stations in that part of India.
An important question arose—how was Mhow affected by the mutinous
proceedings? As the news of the Nuseerabad mutiny had thrown the troops
at Neemuch into agitation, so did the subsequent events at Neemuch
immediately affect the sowars and sepoys at Mhow.[28] Mhow contained a
squadron of the same cavalry regiment, the 1st B. N. C., two troops of
which had mutinied at Neemuch; and in addition to these was the 23d
regiment native infantry, and a company of European artillery. Mhow
presented much the appearance of an English town; having a steepled
church on an eminence, a spacious lecture-room, a well-furnished
library, and a theatre; the cantonment was large and well appointed; and
a force was maintained there in virtue of one of the treaties made with
Holkar. This relates to the station or British part of the town; the
small native town of Mhow is a mile and a half distant. The excitement
caused at this station by the news from Neemuch was visible in the
conduct of the troops throughout the whole of the month of June. Colonel
Platt and the other officers, however, kept a vigilant watch on them,
and by combined firmness and kindness hoped to surmount the difficulty.
Captain Hungerford afterwards stated that such had been the excessive
confidence of some of the officers in their respective regiments, that
he could not induce them to strengthen the fort or fortified square, by
occupying it with their artillery, until almost the last hour before the
Revolt. The fortified square had for some time, however, been a
rendezvous for all the ladies and children, who slept within it; the
officers remaining in the lines. Thus matters passed until the 1st of
July, when Colonel Platt received a pencil-note from Colonel Durand,
announcing that the Residency at Indore had been attacked by Holkar’s
soldiers, and that aid was urgently needed. A troop of cavalry and a few
guns were immediately despatched from Mhow; but when they had reached
within four miles of Indore, news arrived that the Europeans yet living
at that station were about to effect a retreat; upon which the small
force returned to Mhow. This duty the troops performed, but it was the
last they rendered. The colonel, fearing the arrival of mutinous sepoys
from Indore, but not suspecting his own men, made such arrangements as
seemed to him befitting, bringing a European battery of artillery into
the fort. Soon did the crisis arrive. At eleven o’clock on that same
night the plans and hopes were cruelly disappointed; that terrible yell
was heard which so often struck dismay into the hearts of the Europeans
at the various military stations: the yell of native troops rising in
mutiny. Lieutenant Martin, adjutant of the cavalry, while quietly
conversing with one of the troopers, became the victim of that dastardly
fellow; the war-cry arose, and the trooper turned round and shot the
unfortunate officer without a moment’s warning. The other officers,
hearing the report, but not suspecting the real truth, thought that
Holkar’s Mahrattas had arrived; they rushed forward to head their
respective companies and troops, but sepoys and sowars alike opened fire
on them. The officers, now rendered painfully aware of their critical
position, ran swiftly across the parade towards the fort, having no time
to mount their horses; and it is a marvel that only one of the number,
Major Harris, commandant of the cavalry, was shot by the heavy fire
poured on them during this run. Colonel Platt, who was in the fort, was
almost incredulous when the breathless officers rushed in; he could with
difficulty believe the truth now presented to his notice—so fully had he
relied on the fidelity of the men. Colonel Platt and Captain Fagan rode
down to the lines of the 23d, to which regiment they both belonged, to
ascertain the real facts and to exhort the men; but they were never seen
alive again by their brethren in arms; they fell, riddled with bullets
and gashed with sword-cuts. Captain Hungerford, of the artillery,
brought two guns to bear on the mutineers, which gradually drove them
from the lines, but not before they had fired the regimental mess-house
and several bungalows; and during the darkness of night, plunderers
carried off everything that was valuable. Hungerford would have followed
the mutineers with his guns; but the roads were too dark for the
pursuit, and the Europeans too unprotected to be left. The remaining
English officers, having now no troops to command, acted as a cavalry
guard in support of the European battery in the fortified square, under
Captain Hungerford. As all the civilians, women, and children were in
this place; as the square itself was quite unfitted for a long defence;
and as only five native soldiers out of the whole number remained with
the officers—the prospect was precarious enough: nevertheless all did
their best; Hungerford collected in a few days a large store of
provisions, and routed many of the insurgents in neighbouring villages.
The impulses that guided the actions of the sepoys were strangely
inconsistent; for two of the men saved the life of Lieutenant Simpson,
who had been on outpost-duty on the fatal night, and brought him safely
into the fort; and yet, though offered promotion for their fidelity,
they absconded on the following morning to join their mutinous
companions. The Europeans, about eighty in number, maintained their
position at Mhow, until a force from Bombay arrived to reoccupy all that
region. The ladies, there as everywhere, strove to lessen rather than
increase the anxieties of their male companions. One of the officers
thus shut up in the extemporised stronghold said in a letter:
‘Throughout all this I cannot express the admiration I feel at the way
the ladies have behaved—cheerful, and assisting in every way in their
power. Poor things, without servants or quarters, huddled together; they
have had to do everything for themselves, and employ all their time in
sewing bags for powder for the guns, well knowing the awful fate that
awaits them if the place is taken. There has not been a sign of fear;
they bring us tea or any little thing they can, and would even like to
keep watch on the bastions if we would let them.... You should see the
state we are in—men making up canister, ladies sewing powder-bags,
people bringing plunder recovered, artillery mounting guns; all of us
dirty and tired with night-watching; we mount sentry-duty to take the
weight of it off the artillerymen, and snatch sleep and food as we can.’
Many other stations in that part of India were disturbed in June and
July by the mutinies of wings and detachments of regiments too small in
amount to need notice here. At one place, Asseerghur, Colonel Le
Mesurier warded off mutiny by a prompt and dexterous manœuvre, for which
he received the marked thanks of the government.
Gwalior now comes under notice, in relation to a mutiny of troops at
that place, and to the conduct of Scindia, the most important of the
Mahratta chieftains. Considered as a city or town (about sixty-five
miles south of Agra), Gwalior is not very important or interesting,
being irregularly built and deplorably dirty, and possessing few public
buildings of any note. It is for its hill-fortress that Gwalior is so
famed. The rock on which the fortress stands is an elongated mass, a
mile and a half long by a quarter of a mile in width, and reaching in
some places to a height of about three hundred and fifty feet. It is
entirely isolated from other hills; and—partly from the natural
stratification of the sandstone, partly from artificial construction—is
in many parts quite perpendicular. A rampart runs round the upper edge,
conforming to the outline of the summit. The entrance to the enclosure
within the rampart is near the north end of the east side; in the lower
part by a steep road, and in the upper part by steps cut in the rock,
wide enough to permit elephants to make the ascent. A high and massive
stone-wall protects the outer side of this huge staircase; seven
gateways are placed at intervals along its ascent; and guns at the top
command the whole of it. Within the enclosure of the rampart is a
citadel of striking appearance, an antique palace surmounted by kiosks,
six lofty round towers or bastions, curtains or walls of great thickness
to connect those towers, and several spacious tanks. It is considered
that fifteen thousand men would be required to garrison this fortress
completely. So striking is this rock, so tempting to a chieftain who
desires a stronghold, that Gwalior is believed to have been a fortress
during more than a thousand years. It has been captured and recaptured
nearly a dozen times, by contending Hindoos and Mohammedans, in the
course of centuries. The last celebrated contest there was in 1779, when
the Company’s forces captured it through a clever and unexpected use of
ladders and ropes during a dark night. In the next sixty-five years it
was possessed successively by the British, the Jâts, the Mahrattas, the
British again, the Mahrattas again, and finally by the British,
according to the intricacies of treaties and exchanges. Since 1844,
Gwalior has been the head-quarters of a corps called the Gwalior
Contingent, commanded by British officers; and thus the hill-fortress
has virtually been placed within the power of the British government.
Besides this famous stronghold, there is at Gwalior a place called the
Lashkar. This, in former times, was the stationary camp of the Maharajah
Scindia—a dirty collection of rude buildings, extending to a great
distance from the southwest foot of the rock; but the great reduction in
the number of troops allowed to be held independently by Scindia has
materially lessened the importance of the Lashkar.
The loyalty of Scindia became a question of very anxious importance at
the time of the mutinies. Holkar was possessor of a much smaller
territory than Scindia; and yet, when a rumour spread that the rising at
Indore on the 1st of July had the sanction of the first-named sovereign,
numerous petty chieftains in that part of India rose against the
British, and prepared to cut off all retreat for Europeans. It was not
until Holkar had given undoubted evidence of his hostility to the
mutineers, that these movements were checked. Much more was this
rendered manifest in Scindia’s dominions. If Scindia had failed us, the
mutineers from Neemuch, Nuseerabad, and Jhansi, by concentrating at
Gwalior, might have rendered that hill-fortress a second Delhi to the
British. Scindia and Holkar both remained steady; it was the Contingents
that failed. These contingents were bodies of native troops, paid by the
native princes of the states or countries whose name they bore, but
organised and officered by the British, in the same way as the ordinary
battalions of the sepoy army. If the native princes, for whose defence
ostensibly, and at whose expense really, these contingents were
maintained, wished and were permitted to have any independent military
force of their own, that could only be done additionally to the
contingent which they were bound to furnish. As a consequence of this
curious system, a distinction must be drawn between the contingent
troops and the prince’s troops. At Indore, Holkar’s little army as well
as Holkar’s contingent proved hostile to the British. Scindia was in
like manner paymaster for a double force; and the British often
anxiously pondered whether one or both of these might prove faithless at
Gwalior, with or without the consent of Scindia himself. The Gwalior
Contingent, though connected with a Mahratta state, consisted chiefly of
Hindustanis, like the sepoys of the Bengal army; the Mahrattas formed
quite a minority of the number. The contingent consisted of all three
arms of the service—infantry, cavalry, and artillery—and formed a
compact army.
The disasters at Gwalior began on Sunday the 14th of June—as usual, on
Sunday. It will be remembered (p. 112) that Scindia, three or four weeks
earlier, had offered the aid of his own body-guard, which had been
accepted by Mr Colvin at Agra; that a portion of the Gwalior Contingent
(cavalry) was also sent; that this contingent, under Lieutenant
Cockburn, was actively engaged against the insurgents in the region
between Agra and Allygurh; and that about one-half of the troopers
composing it revolted on the 28th of May, placing that gallant officer
in a very embarrassing position. They were portions of the same
contingent that mutinied at Neemuch and one or two other places; and on
this account the European inhabitants at Gwalior were subject to much
anxiety—knowing that that station was the head-quarters; and that,
although the contingent was paid for by the Maharajah, the troops had
been raised mostly in Oude, and, being disciplined and officered by the
British, were likely to share the same sentiments as the Oudians and
other Hindustanis of the Bengal army elsewhere. The Maharajah had little
or no influence over them; for neither were they his countrymen, nor had
he any control over their discipline or movements. During fourteen
years, as boy, youth, and man, he had been in great measure a pupil
under the British resident at Gwalior; and if he remained an obedient
pupil, this was nearly all that could be expected from him—shorn, as the
Mahratta court was, of so much of its former influence. Dr Winlow Kirk,
superintending surgeon of the contingent, placed upon record, ten days
before the bloody deed which deprived him of life, a few facts relating
to the position of the Europeans at Gwalior in the latter part of May
and the beginning of June. The resident received information which led
him to believe that the contingent—seven regiments of infantry, two of
cavalry, and four batteries of artillery—was thoroughly disaffected,
both the main body at Gwalior and the detachments elsewhere. The
brigadier commandant shared this opinion with the resident; and, as a
precautionary measure, all the ladies were sent from the station to the
Residency, a distance of six miles, on the 28th of May. Dr Kirk, and
most of the military officers, dissented from this opinion; they thought
the troops were behaving in a respectful manner, and they offered to
sleep among the men’s lines to shew their confidence in them. On the
29th and 30th, the ladies returned to cantonment, much to the apparent
delight of the sepoys at the generous reliance thus placed in them.
Bitter was the disappointment and grief in store for those who had
trusted these miscreants.
It was on the 14th of June, we have said, that the uprising at Gwalior
began. The Europeans had long wished for the presence of a few English
troops; but as none were to be had, they watched each day’s proceedings
rather anxiously. At nine o’clock in the evening of the disastrous
Sunday, the alarm was given at the cantonment; all rushed out of their
respective bungalows, and each family found others in a similar state of
alarm. Shots were heard; officers were galloping or running past; horses
were wildly rushing with empty saddles; and no one could give a precise
account of the details of the outbreak. Then occurred the sudden and
mournful disruption of family ties; husbands became separated from their
wives; ladies and children sought to hide in gardens and grass, on
house-tops and in huts. Then arose flames from the burning bungalows;
and then came bands of reckless sepoys, hunting out the poor homeless
English who were in hiding. On the morning of that day, Dr Kirk,
although he had not shared the resident’s alarm seventeen days before,
nevertheless thought with some anxiety of the ladies and children, and
asked what arrangements had been made for their safety in the event of
an outbreak; but the officers of the regiments, most of whom relied
fully on their men, would not admit that there was any serious need for
precautionary measures. Two of these unfortunate officers, Major Blake
and Major Hawkins, were especially trustful; and these were two among
the number who fell by the hands of their own men that very night.
Captain Stewart, with his wife and child, were killed, as also Major
Sheriff. Brigadier Ramsey, and several others, whose bungalows were on
the banks of a small river, escaped by fording. Dr Kirk was one of those
who, less fortunate, were furthest from the river. With Mrs Kirk and his
child, he hid in the garden all night; in the morning they were
discovered; Mrs Kirk was robbed without being otherwise ill treated; but
her husband was shot dead before her eyes. Thus fell an amiable and
skilful man, who for nearly twenty years had been a medical officer of
the Company—first with the Bundelcund legion in Sinde; then as a medical
adviser to Sir Charles Napier on matters connected with the health of
troops in that sandy region; then with the Bengal troops at Bareilly;
then with the European artillery at Ferozpore; and lastly, as
superintending surgeon to the troops of the Gwalior Contingent, who
shewed their gratitude for his medical aid by putting him to death.
After this miserable sight, Mrs Kirk begged the murderers to put an end
to her also; but they replied: ‘No, we have killed you already’—pointing
to the dead body of her husband.
The rest of this story need not be told in detail. Agra was the place of
refuge sought by those who had now to flee; and it is some small
alleviation of the crimes of the mutineers that they allowed the ladies
and children to depart—with their lives, but with little else. How the
poor things suffered during five days of weary journeying, they could
themselves hardly have told; hunger, thirst, heat, illness, fatigue, and
anxiety of mind accumulated on them. Many arrived at Agra without shoes
or stockings; and all were beggared of their worldly possessions when
they reached that city. When, shortly afterwards, Lieutenant Cockburn
wrote to private friends of this event, he had to tell, not only of his
own mortification as the officer of a disloyal corps, but of the wreck
suffered by the British station at Gwalior. ‘I fear there is no chance
of my ever recovering any of your portraits; for the ruffians invariably
destroy all they cannot convert into silver or gold. All our beautiful
garden at Gwalior, on which I spent a good deal of money and care, has
been dug up; our houses have been turned into cattle-sheds; there is not
a pane of glass in the station; our beautiful church has been gutted,
the monuments destroyed, the organ broken up, the stained-glass windows
smashed, and the lovely floor of encaustic tiles torn up. The
desecration of the tombs is still more horrible; in many places the
remains of our countrymen have been torn from the earth, and consigned
to the flames!’
The position of Scindia was sufficiently embarrassing at that time. As
soon as the troops of the contingent had murdered or driven away their
officers, they went to him, placed their services at his disposal, and
demanded that he would lead them against the British at Agra. There were
eight or ten thousand men in the contingent altogether, and his own
Mahratta army was little less numerous; it was therefore a matter of
critical importance to the English that he remained steady and faithful.
He not only refused to sanction the proceedings of the mutineers, but
endeavoured to prevent them from marching towards Agra. In this he
succeeded until an advanced period of the autumn; for the troops that
troubled Agra at the end of June and the beginning of July were those
from Mhow and Neemuch, not the larger body from Gwalior. These mutineers
proceeded towards Agra by way of Futtehpore or Futhepore Sikri—a town
famed for the vast expanse of ruined buildings, erected by Akbar and
destroyed by the Mahrattas; for the great mosque, with its noble gateway
and flight of steps; and for the sumptuous white marble tomb,
constructed by Akbar in memory of a renowned Mussulman ascetic, Sheik
Selim Cheestee.[29] The battle that ensued, and the considerations that
induced Mr Colvin to shut up himself and all the British in the fort at
Agra, will be better treated in a later page.
Many of the events treated in this chapter occurred in, or on the
frontiers of, the region known as Rajpootana or Rajasthan—concerning
which a few words may be desirable. The name denotes the land of the
Rajpoots. These Hindoos are a widely spread sept of the Kshetrigas or
military caste; but when or where they obtained a separate name and
character is not now known. Some of the legends point to Mount Aboo as
the original home of the Rajpoots. They were in their greatest power
seven hundred years ago, when Rajpoot princes ruled in Delhi, in Ajmeer,
in Gujerat, and in other provinces; but the Mohammedan conquerors drove
them out of those places; and during many centuries the region mainly
belonging to the Rajpoots has been nearly identical with that exhibited
at the present time. This region, situated between Central India and
Sinde, is about twice as large as England and Wales. Warlike as the
Rajpoots have ever been, and possessing many strongholds and numerous
forces, they were no match for the Mahrattas in the last century; indeed
it was this inequality that led to the interference of the British, who
began to be the ‘protector’ of the Rajpoot princes early in the present
century. This protection, insured by various treaties, seems to have
been beneficial to the Rajpoots, whose country has advanced in industry
and prosperity during a long continuance of peace. The chief Rajpoot
states at present are Odeypore or Mewar, Jeypoor, Jhodpore or Joudpore,
Jhallawar, Kotah, Boondee, Alwur, Bikaneer, Jeysulmeer, Kishengurh,
Banswarra, Pertabghur, Dongurpore, Kerowlee, and Sirohi. The treaties
with these several states, at the time of the mutiny, were curiously
complicated and diverse: Odeypore paid tribute, and shared with the
Company the expense of maintaining a Bheel corps; Jeypoor, though under
a rajah, was virtually governed by a British resident; Jhodpore, under a
sort of feudal rule, paid tribute, and maintained a Jhodpore legion
besides a force belonging to the feudatories; Kotah bore the expense of
a corps called the Kotah Contingent, organised and officered by the
British; Jeysulmeer gave allegiance in return for protection, and so did
Kishengurh and many other of the states included in the above list. Most
of the Rajpoot states had a feudal organisation for internal affairs;
and most of them maintained small native corps, in addition to the
contingents furnished by three or four under arrangements with the
British. For the whole of the Rajpoot states collectively an agent was
appointed by the governor-general to represent British interests, under
whom were the civil officers at various towns and stations; while the
military formed a Rajpootana Field-force, with head-quarters at
Nuseerabad.
At the extreme north of Rajpootana is a small British district named
Hurrianah, of which the chief towns are Hansi and Hissar. A military
corps, called the Hurrianah Light Infantry Battalion, mutinied a few
weeks after the Meerut outbreak, killing Lieutenant Barwell and other
Europeans; the men acted in conjunction with a part of the 4th regiment
irregular cavalry, and, after a scene of murder and pillage, marched off
towards Delhi. At Bhurtpore, on the northeast frontier of Rajpootana, a
similar scene was exhibited on a smaller scale; a corps called the
Bhurtpore Levies revolted against Captain Nixon and other officers,
compelling them to flee for their lives: the mutineers, as in so many
other instances, marching off at once towards Delhi. There were other
mutinies of small detachments of native troops, at minor stations in the
Mahratta and Rajpoot countries, which need not be traced in detail.
* * * * *
The vast region in the centre of India has thus passed rapidly under
review. We have seen Hindustanis, Bundelas, Jâts, Mahrattas, Bheels,
Rajpoots, and other tribes of India revolting against English authority;
we have seen native princes and chiefs perplexed how to act between the
suzerain power on the one hand, and the turbulent soldiery on the other;
we have seen that soldiery, and the attendant rabble of marauders,
influenced quite as much by love of plunder as by hate of the Company’s
raj; we have seen British officers sorely wounded at heart by finding
those men to be traitors whom they had trusted almost to the last hour;
we have seen ladies and children driven from their bungalows, and hunted
like wild beasts from road to river, from jungle to forest; and lastly,
in this vast region, we have tracked over considerably more than a
thousand miles of country in length without meeting with a single
regiment of British troops. The centre of India was defended from
natives by natives; and the result shewed itself in deplorable colours.
[Illustration:
Girls at the Ganges.
]
-----
Footnote 26:
A curious example was afforded, in relation to the affairs of Saugor,
of the circuitous manner in which public affairs were conducted in
India, when different officials were residing in different parts of
that vast empire. The brigadier commanding the Saugor district adopted
a certain course, in a time of peril, concerning the management of the
troops under his command. He sent information of these proceedings to
Neill at Allahabad (300 miles). Neill forwarded the information to
Calcutta (500 miles). The military secretary to the government at
Calcutta sent a dispatch to the adjutant-general of the army outside
Delhi (900 miles), requesting him to ‘move’ the commander-in-chief to
send a military message to Saugor (400 miles), calling upon the
officer of that station to explain the motives for his conduct in the
matter at issue. The explanation, so given, was to be sent 400 miles
to Delhi, and then 900 miles to Calcutta; and lastly, if the conduct
were not approved, a message to that effect would be sent, by any
route that happened to be open for dâk, from Calcutta to Saugor.
Footnote 27:
‘To mark the approbation with which he has received this report, the
Right Honourable the Governor in Council will direct the immediate
promotion to higher grades of such of the native officers and men as
his Excellency the Commander-in-chief may be pleased to name as having
most distinguished themselves on this occasion, and thereby earned
this special reward; and the Governor will take care that liberal
compensation is awarded for the loss of property abandoned in the
cantonment and subsequently destroyed, when the Lancers, in obedience
to orders, marched out to protect the families of the European
officers, leaving their own unguarded in cantonment.
‘By a later report the Governor in Council has learned with regret
that eleven men of the Lancers basely deserted their comrades and
their standards, and joined the mutineers; but the Governor in Council
will not suffer the disgrace of these unworthy members of the corps to
sully the display of loyalty, discipline, and gallantry which the
conduct of this fine regiment has eminently exhibited.’
Footnote 28:
It is well to observe, for the aid of those consulting maps, that
there are five or six towns and villages of this name in India. The
Mhow here indicated is nearly in lat. 22½°, long. 76°.
Footnote 29:
See page 175.
[Illustration:
Akali of the Sikhs.
]
CHAPTER XII.
EVENTS IN THE PUNJAUB AND SINDE.
A very important and interesting region in Northern India has scarcely
yet been mentioned in this narrative; that, namely, which comprises the
Punjaub and Sinde—the Punjaub with its offshoot Cashmere, and Sinde with
the delta of the Indus. It will now be necessary, however, to obtain a
few general notions on the following points—the geographical position of
the Punjaub; the national character of the Sikhs as the chief
inhabitants; the transactions which rendered the British masters of that
country; and the circumstances that enabled Sir John Lawrence at once to
hold the Punjaub intact and to aid the besiegers of Delhi. Of Sinde, a
still shorter account will suffice.
The name Punjaub is Persian; it signifies ‘five waters;’ and was given
in early days to the region between the five rivers Indus, Jelum,
Chenab, Ravee, and Sutlej. Tho Punjaub is somewhat triangular in shape,
extending from the Himalaya and Cashmere as a northern base to an apex
where the five rivers have all coalesced into one. It is about equal in
area to England and Scotland without Wales. The northern part is rugged
and mountainous; the southern almost without a hill, comprising the
several ‘Doabs’ between the rivers. The natural facilities for inland
navigation and for irrigation are great; and these, aided by artificial
channels, render the Punjaub one of the most promising regions in India.
If the Beas, an affluent of the Sutlej, be added to the five rivers
above named, then there are five Doabs or tongues of land between the
six rivers, named severally the Doabs of Jullundur, Baree, Rechna,
Jetch, and Sinde Sagur, in their order from east to west. The Baree
Doab, between the rivers Beas and Ravee, is the most populous and
important, containing as it does the three cities of Lahore, Umritsir,
and Moultan.
The population of this country is a very mixed one; the Punjaub having
been a battle-ground whereon Hindoos from the east and Mohammedans from
the west have often met; and as the conquerors all partially settled on
their conquests, many races are found in juxtaposition, though each
prevailing in one or other of the Doabs. For instance, the Afghans are
mostly west of the Indus; the Sikhs, in the Baree Doab; and so on. The
inhabitants exceed ten millions in number; nearly two-thirds of them are
Mohammedans—a very unusual ratio in India. The Sikhs, however, are the
most interesting constituent in this population. They are a kind of
Hindoo dissenters, differing from other Hindoos chiefly in these three
points—the renunciation of caste, the admission of proselytes, and the
practice of the military art by nearly all the males. They trace their
origin to one Nanac, who was born in 1469 in a village about sixty miles
from Lahore; he founded a new religion, or a new modification of
Brahminism; and his followers gave him the designation of _Guru_ or
‘spiritual pastor,’ while they took to themselves that of _Sikhs_ or
‘disciples.’ After many contests with the Mohammedans of the Punjaub,
the Sikhs ceased to have a spiritual leader, but acquired temporal
power—some assuming the general surname or tribe-name of _Singh_ or
‘lion,’ to denote their military prowess; while the rest became
_Khalasas_, adherents to the more peaceful and religious doctrines of
Nanac. Some of the Singhs are Akalis, a sort of warlike priests. The
Sikhs are more robust than the generality of Hindoos, and more
enterprising; but they are more illiterate, and speak a jargon composed
of scraps from a multitude of languages.
Such being the country, and such the inhabitants, we have next to see
how the British gained influence in that quarter. From the eleventh
century until the year 1768 the Mohammedans—Afghans, Gorians, Moguls,
and other tribes—ruled in the Punjaub; but in that year the Sikhs, who
had gradually been growing in power, gained the ascendency in the region
eastward of the Jelum. At the close of the last century an adventurer,
named Runjeet Singh, a Sikh of the Jât tribe, became ruler of the
district around the city of Lahore; and from that time the Sikh power
was in the ascendant. The Sikhs constituted a turbulent and irregular
republic; holding, in cases of emergency, a parliament called the
Guru-mata at Umritsir; but at other times engaged in petty warfare
against each other. Runjeet Singh was ambitious of putting down these
competitors for power. He built at Umritsir the great fort of
Govindgurh, ostensibly to protect, but actually to overawe and control
some of the chieftains. In 1809 he crossed the Sutlej, and waged war
against some of the Sikh chieftains of Sirhind who had obtained British
protection. This led, not to a war, but to a treaty; by which Runjeet
agreed to keep to the west of the Sutlej, and the British not to molest
him there. This treaty, with a constancy rare in Asia, the chief of
Lahore respected throughout the whole of his long career: maintaining a
friendly intercourse with the British. In other directions, however, he
waged ruthless war. He conquered Moultan, then Peshawur, then the
Derajat, then Cashmere, then Middle Tibet, then Little Tibet, and
finally became Maharajah of the Sikhs. In 1831 an interview, conducted
with gorgeous splendour, took place between Runjeet Singh and Lord
Auckland, in which the governor-general strengthened the ties of amity
with the great Sikh. Runjeet died in 1839, and his son and grandson in
1840. From that year a total change of affairs ensued; competitors for
the throne appeared; then followed warlike contests; and then a period
of such excessive anarchy and lawlessness that British as well as Sikh
territory became spoliated by various chieftains. War was declared in
1845, during which it required all the daring and skill of the victors
at Moodkee, Ferozshah, Aliwal, and Sobraon, to subdue the fierce and
warlike Sikhs. This was ended by a treaty, signed in March 1846; but the
treaty was so frequently broken by the chieftains, that another war
broke out in 1848, marked by the battles of Moultan, Chillianwalla, and
Gujerat. Then ended the Sikh power. The British took the Punjaub in full
sovereignty, dated from the 29th of March 1849. Commissioners were
appointed, to organise a thoroughly new system of government; and it was
herein that Sir Henry Lawrence so greatly distinguished himself. In less
than three years from that date, the progress made towards peaceful
government was so great, that the court of directors enumerated them in
a eulogistic dispatch to the governor in council. The progress was one
of uninterrupted improvement from 1849 to 1857; and it will ever remain
a bright page in the East India Company’s records that, finding the
Punjaub a prey to wild licence and devastating intrigues, the Company
converted it into a peaceful and prosperous country. The reward for this
was received when the rest of Northern India was in a mutinous state. It
may here be stated that, when the Punjaub was annexed, a distinct
arrangement was made with Cashmere. This interesting country, almost
buried among the Himalaya and its offshoots, is one of the few regions
in India which have suffered more from natural calamities than from the
ravages of man; its population has been diminished from eight hundred
thousand to two hundred thousand in the course of thirty years, by a
distressing succession of pestilences, earthquakes, and famines. It was
governed by Mohammedans during about five centuries; and was then held
by the Sikhs from 1819 till the end of their power. Circumstances
connected with the annexation of the Punjaub led to the assignment of
Cashmere as a rajahship to Gholab Singh, one of the Sikh chieftains; he
was to be an independent prince, subsidiary to the British so far as
concerned a contingent of troops. The two Tibets were abandoned by the
Sikhs before the date when British sovereignty crossed the Sutlej.
For administrative purposes, the Punjaub has been separated into eight
divisions—Lahore, Jelum, Moultan, Leia, Peshawur, Jullundur, Hoshyapoor,
and Kangra; of which the Lahore division alone contains three millions
and a half of souls. Each division comprises several revenue and
judicial districts. For military purposes, the divisions are only two,
those of Lahore and Peshawur, each under a general commandant.
[Illustration:
SIR JOHN LAWRENCE.
]
In the middle of May 1857, when the mutinies began, Sir John Lawrence,
who had been knighted for his eminent services while with his brother
Sir Henry, and had succeeded him as chief-commissioner in the Punjaub,
was absent from the capital of that country. He was at Rawul Pindee, a
station between Lahore and Peshawur; but happily he had left behind him
men who had learned and worked with his brother and himself, and who
acted with a promptness and vigour worthy of all praise. To understand
what was done, we must attend to the city and cantonment of Lahore. This
famous capital of the Punjaub is situated about a mile east of the river
Ravee. It contains many large and handsome buildings—such as the Padshah
Mosque, said to have been built by Aurungzebe, but converted into a
barrack by Runjeet Singh, who cared little about mosques; the Vizier
Khan Mosque, once celebrated for its lofty minarets, but afterwards
desecrated by the Sikhs in being used as stables for horses and shambles
for swine; the Sonara Mosque; and many other Mohammedan mosques and
Hindoo temples. Beyond the limits of the city are the large and
once-magnificent tomb of the Emperor Jehanghire; the tomb of Anarkalli;
and the exquisite garden of Shahjehan, the Shalimar or ‘House of Joy’—at
one time the pride of the Mussulmans of Lahore, with its three marble
terraces and its four hundred marble fountains, but afterwards
ruthlessly despoiled of its marble by Runjeet Singh, to adorn Umritsir.
Lahore presents every trace of having been a much larger city before the
time of the Sikh domination; for the ruins of palaces, serais, and
mosques spread over a great area. The city now contains about a hundred
thousand inhabitants, a great declension from its population in former
days. Considered in a military sense, Lahore is surrounded by a brick
wall, formerly twenty-five feet high, but recently lowered. Runjeet
Singh ran a trench round the wall, constructed a line of works, mounted
the works with many cannon, and cleared away many ruins. This line of
fortification exceeds seven miles in circuit; and within the northwest
angle is a fort or citadel, containing extensive magazines and
manufactories of warlike stores.
From evidence educed at different times, it appears certain that many of
the native troops in the Punjaub were cognizant of a conspiracy among
the ‘Poorbeahs,’ by which name the sepoys of the eastern regions are
known to the inhabitants of the Punjaub; and that they held themselves
ready to join in any mutiny arising out of such conspiracy. How the
authorities checked this conspiracy, was strikingly shewn by the
proceedings at different stations immediately after news arrived of
disaster in the eastern provinces. We will rapidly glance in succession
at Lahore, Umritsir, Ferozpore, Jullundur, and Phillour; and will then
proceed to the Peshawur region. The British military cantonment for the
city of Lahore was six miles distant, at a place called Meean Meer;
where were stationed three native infantry regiments, and one of
cavalry, the Queen’s 81st foot, two troops of horse-artillery, and four
reserve companies of foot-artillery. In the fort, within the city-walls,
were half a native infantry regiment, a company of Europeans, and a
company of foot-artillery. The plot, so far as concerned the Punjaub, is
believed to have been this.[30] On a particular day, when one wing of a
native regiment at the fort was to be exchanged for another, there
would, at a particular moment, be about eleven hundred sepoys present;
they were to rise suddenly, murder their officers, and seize the gates;
take possession of the citadel, the magazine, and the treasury;
overpower the Europeans and artillery, only a hundred and fifty men in
all; and kindle a huge bonfire as a signal to Meean Meer. All the native
troops in cantonment were then to rise, seize the guns, force the
central jail, liberate two thousand prisoners, and then commence an
indiscriminate massacre of European military and civilians. The other
great stations in that part of the Punjaub—Umritsir, Ferozpore,
Jullundur, Phillour—were all in the plot, and the native troops at these
places were to rise in mutiny about the 15th of May. There were many
proofs, in the Punjaub and elsewhere, that the plotters at Meerut began
a little too early for their own object; the scheme was not quite ripe
at other places, else the English might have been almost entirely
annihilated throughout the northern half of India.
The authorities at Lahore knew nothing of this plot as a whole, though
they possibly observed symptoms of restlessness among the native
troops. When the crisis arrived, however, they proved themselves equal
to the difficulties of their position. On the 10th of May, the
outbreak at Meerut occurred; on the 11th an obscure telegram reached
Lahore, telling of some disaster; on the 12th the real nature of the
affair became known. Sir John Lawrence being at Rawul Pindee, the
other authorities—Mr Montgomery, Mr M’Leod, Mr Roberts, Colonel
Macpherson, Colonel Lawrence (another member of this distinguished
family), Major Ommaney, and Captain Hutchinson—instantly formed a sort
of council of war; at which they agreed on a plan, which was assented
to by Brigadier Corbett, commandant of the station at Meean Meer. This
plan was to consist in depriving the native troops of their ammunition
and percussion-caps, and placing more Europeans within the fort. A
native officer in the Sikh police corps, however, revealed to the
authorities the outlines of a conspiracy which had come to his
knowledge; and the brigadier then resolved on the complete disarming
of the native regiments—a bold step where he had so few Europeans to
assist him, but carried out with admirable promptitude and success. It
so happened that a ball was to be given that night (the 12th) by the
military officers at Meean Meer; the ball _was_ given, but
preparations of a kind very different from festive were at the same
time quietly made, wholly unknown to the sepoys. Early on the morning
of the 13th, the whole of the troops, native and European, were
ordered on parade, avowedly to hear the governor-general’s order
relating to the affairs at Barrackpore, but really that the Europeans
might disarm the natives. After this reading, a little manœuvring was
ordered, whereby the whole of the native regiments—the 16th, 26th, and
49th Bengal infantry, and the 8th Bengal cavalry—were confronted by
the guns and by five companies of the Queen’s 81st. At a given signal,
the sepoys were ordered to pile arms, and the sowars to unbuckle
sabres; they hesitated; but grape-shot and port-fires were ready—they
knew it, and they yielded. Thus were disarmed two thousand five
hundred native troops, by only six hundred British soldiers. Meanwhile
the fort was not forgotten. Major Spencer, who commanded the wing of
the 26th stationed there, had the men drawn up on parade on the
morning of that same day; three companies of the 81st entered the fort
under Captain Smith; and these three hundred British, or thereabouts,
found it no difficult task to disarm the five or six hundred sepoys.
This done, the 81st and the artillery were quickly placed at such
posts as they might most usefully strengthen—in the lines of the 81st,
on the artillery parade-ground, and in an open space in the centre of
the cantonment, where the brigadier and his staff slept every night.
The ladies and children were accommodated in the barracks; while the
regimental officers were ordered to sleep in certain selected houses
in the lines of their own regiments—regiments disarmed but not
disbanded; and professedly disarmed only as a matter of temporary
expediency. Thus was Lahore saved.
Umritsir is the next station to which attention must be directed
relatively to the Punjaub. It was an important place to hold in due
subordination, not only on account of its size and population, but for a
certain religious character that it possesses in the eyes of the Sikhs.
Umritsir or Amritsir has had a career of less than three centuries. In
1581, Ram Das, the fourth _Guru_ or spiritual pastor of the Sikhs,
ordered a reservoir or fountain to be formed at a particular spot, and
named it _Amrita Saras_, or ‘Fount of Immortality.’ This Amrita Saras or
Umritsir at once became a place of pilgrimage, and around it gradually
grew up a considerable city. One of the Mohammedan sovereigns, Ahmed
Shah, uneasy at the increasing power of the Sikhs, sought to terrify and
suppress them by an act of sacrilege at Umritsir; he blew up a sacred
shrine, filled up the sacred pool, and caused the site to be desecrated
by slaughtering kine upon it. But he miscalculated. It was this very act
which led to the supremacy of the Sikhs over the Mohammedans in the
Punjaub; they purified and refilled the pool, rebuilt the shrine, and
vowed unceasing hostility to the Mussulmans. At present, the holy place
at Umritsir is a very large square basin, in which Sikhs bathe as other
Hindoos would do in the Ganges; and in the centre, on a small island, is
a richly adorned temple, attended by five hundred Akalis or armed
priests. Considered as a city, Umritsir is large, populous, industrial,
and commercial. The most striking object in it is the Govindgurh, the
fortress which Runjeet Singh constructed in 1809, professedly to protect
the pilgrims at the sacred pool, but really to increase his power over
the Sikhs generally. Its great height and heavy batteries, rising one
above another, give it a very imposing appearance; and it has been still
further strengthened since British occupation began.
Directly the unfavourable news from Meerut was received at Lahore, or
rather immediately after the disarming at the last-named place had been
effected—a company of H.M. 81st foot, under Lieutenant Chichester, was
sent off in eckas to Umritsir, to strengthen the garrison at Govindgurh.
It was known that this fort was regarded almost in a religious light in
the Punjaub; and that if the Poorbeahs or rebellious sepoys should seize
it, the British would be lowered in the eyes of the Sikhs generally. In
the fort, and in the cantonment near the town, were two companies of
artillery, one European and one native; together with the 59th B. N. I.,
and a light field-battery. The wing of the Queen’s 81st, despatched from
Lahore on the evening of the 13th of May, reached Umritsir on the
following morning; and a company of foot-artillery, under Lieutenant
Hildebrand, intended for Phillour, was detained at Umritsir until the
authorities should feel sure of their position. The officers of the 59th
had, some time previously, discussed frankly with their men the subject
of the greased cartridges, and had encouraged them to hold a committee
of inquiry among themselves; the result of which was a distinct avowal
of their disbelief in the rumours on that unfortunate subject. It is
only just towards the regimental officers to say that the highest
authorities were as unable as themselves to account for the pertinacious
belief of the sepoys in the greased-cartridge theory; Sir John Lawrence
spoke of it as a ‘mania,’ which was to him inexplicable. With the
miscellaneous forces now at hand, the authorities made no attempt to
disarm the native regiment, but kept a watchful eye on the course of
events. On the night of the 14th, an alarm spread that the native troops
at Lahore had mutinied, and were advancing on Umritsir; the ladies and
children were at once sent into the fort, and a small force was sent out
on the Lahore road, to check the expected insurgents; but the alarm
proved to be false, and the troops returned to their quarters. Peace was
secured at Umritsir by the exercise of great sagacity. The Mohammedans
were strong in the city, but the Sikhs were stronger; and Mr Cooper, the
deputy-commissioner, succeeded in preventing either religious body from
joining the other against the British—a task requiring much knowledge of
the springs of action among the natives in general. It was not the first
time in the history of India that the British authorities had deemed it
expedient to play off the two religions against each other.
Ferozpore was not so happily managed as Lahore and Umritsir in this
exciting and perilous week; either because the materials were less
suitable to work upon, or because the mode of treatment was not so well
adapted to the circumstances. Ferozpore is not actually in the Punjaub;
it is one of the towns in Sirhind, or the Cis-Sutlej states—small in
size and somewhat mean in appearance, but important through its position
near the west bank of the Sutlej, and the large fort it comprises. In
the middle of May, this station contained H.M. 61st foot, the 45th and
57th Bengal native infantry, the 10th Bengal native cavalry, about 150
European artillery, and one light-horse field-battery, with six
field-guns—a large force, not required for Ferozpore itself, but to
control the district of which it was the centre. Ferozpore had been the
frontier British station before the annexation of the Punjaub, and had
continued to be supplied with an extensive magazine of military stores.
When Brigadier Innes heard on the 12th of May of the mutiny at Meerut,
he ordered all the native troops on parade, that he and his officers
might, if possible, judge of their loyalty by their demeanour. The
examination was in great part, though not wholly, satisfactory. At noon
on the 13th the disastrous news from Delhi arrived. The intrenched
magazine within the fort was at that time guarded by a company of the
57th; and the brigadier, rendered somewhat uneasy on this matter,
planned a new disposition of the troops. There had been many ‘cartridge’
meetings held among the men, and symptoms appeared that a revolt was
intended. The relative positions of all the military were as follows: In
the middle of the fort was the intrenched magazine, guarded as just
stated; outside the fort, on the west, were the officers’ bungalows and
the official buildings; still further to the west were the sepoy lines
of the 45th and 57th; northward of these lines were the artillery
barracks; still further north were the lines of the cavalry; south of
the fort were the barracks of the European regiment; on the north of the
fort was the Sudder Bazaar; while eastward of it was an open place or
_maîdan_. The brigadier sought to avert danger by separating the two
native regiments; but the Queen’s 61st, by the general arrangements of
the cantonment, were too far distant to render the proper service at the
proper moment. The 45th were to be removed to an open spot northeast of
the cantonment, and the 57th to another open space on the south, two
miles distant; the native cavalry were to take up a position near their
own lines; the 61st were to encamp near the south wall of the fort;
while one company, with artillery and guns, was to be placed within the
fort. After a parade of the whole force, on the afternoon of the 13th,
each corps was ordered to the camping-ground allotted for it. The 57th
obeyed at once, but some companies of the 45th, while marching through
the bazaar, refused to go any further, stopped, loaded their muskets,
and prepared for resistance; they ran towards the fort, clambered over a
dilapidated part of the ramparts, and advanced towards the magazine,
where scaling-ladders were thrown over to them by a company of the 57th
who had been on guard inside. This clearly shewed complicity to exist. A
short but severe conflict ensued. Captain Lewis and Major Redmond had
only a few Europeans with them, but they promptly attacked the
mutineers, drove out the 45th, and made prisoners the treacherous guard
of the 57th. All was now right in the fort and magazine, but not in the
cantonment. About two hundred men of the 45th commenced a system of
burning and looting; officers’ bungalows, mess-houses, hospitals, the
church—all were fired. Many isolated acts of heroism were performed by
individual Europeans, but no corps was sent against the ruffians.
Fortunately, a powder-magazine beyond the cavalry lines, containing the
enormous quantity of three hundred thousand pounds of gunpowder, did not
fall into the hands of the rebels; it might have done so, for no
preparations had been made to defend it. All this time the Queen’s
troops chafed at their enforced inaction; their camping-ground had been
so badly chosen that they dared not in a body attack the 45th lest the
57th should in the meantime surprise them in the rear; and there is no
evidence that they were ordered to do what any English regiment would
cheerfully have undertaken—divide into two wings, each to confront a
whole regiment of sepoys. During the night and the following morning
nearly all the sepoys decamped, some with arms and some without.
Ferozpore was saved for the present; but mutinous proceedings were
encouraged at Jullundur, Jelum, and Sealkote, by the escape of the 45th
and 57th; and the brigadier fell into disgrace for his mismanagement of
this affair. He had only just arrived to take command of that station,
and it may be that he was on this account less able to judge correctly
the merits or demerits of the forces placed at his disposal.
Jullundur, which gives name to the Jullundur Doab between the Sutlej and
the Beas, is another of this group of stations. It is situated on the
high road from Umballa and Umritsir to Lahore; and was formerly the
capital of an Afghan dynasty in the Punjaub. Although shorn of much of
its former greatness, it is still an important and flourishing town,
with forty thousand inhabitants. Jullundur received the news from Meerut
on the 11th of May, and immediately precautionary measures were taken.
Brigadier-general Johnstone, the commandant, being absent at the time, a
plan was at once formed by Colonel Hartley of H.M. 8th foot, and Captain
Farrington, the deputy-commissioner, and agreed to by all the other
officers. The station at that time contained H.M. 8th foot, the 6th
light cavalry, the 36th and 61st native infantry, and one troop of
horse-artillery. The chief officers in command were Colonels Longfield
and Hartley, Majors Barton, Innes, and Olpherts, and Captain Faddy. When
the telegraph of the 12th of May confirmed the Meerut news of the 11th,
it was resolved at once to control the native troops at Jullundur, and
to disarm them if mutinous symptoms should appear. Part of the Queen’s
troops were marched into the artillery lines; the guns were pointed at
the lines of the native regiments in such a way as to render the sepoys
and sowars somewhat uneasy; two field-guns were kept with horses ready
harnessed for movement; careful patrolling was maintained during the
night; and the ladies and children were safely if not comfortably placed
in barracks and rooms guarded by their own countrymen. Captain
Farrington was placed in charge of the civil lines, the public
buildings, and the town generally; and most fortunate was it for him,
and the English generally, that the native Rajah of Jullundur, Rundheer
Singh Alloowalla, remained friendly. This prince had been deprived of
part of his territory at the period of the annexation of the Punjaub,
but the deprivation had not rendered him hostile to his powerful
superiors; he promptly aided Farrington with guns and men, instead of
throwing in his lot with the mutineers. Jullundur, like Lahore,
Umritsir, and Ferozpore, was saved for the present.
Phillour, the fifth station in this remarkable group, was in one sense
more perilously placed than any of the others, owing to its nearer
proximity to the mutineers of Meerut and Delhi. It stands on the right
bank of the Sutlej, on the great high road from Umballa and Loodianah to
Umritsir and Lahore. Phillour is of no account as a town, but of great
importance as a military station on the frontier of the Punjaub, and as
commanding the passage of the grand trunk-road across the Sutlej. At the
time of the mutiny it had a magazine containing a vast supply of warlike
material, without any European troops whatever. The adjoining cantonment
contained one native regiment, of which one company guarded the fort and
magazine. The military authorities all over the Punjaub and Sirhind well
knew that Phillour contained munitions of war that would be most
perilous in the hands of mutineers. Lieutenant Hildebrand, as was lately
stated, was sent from Lahore with a company of artillery to Phillour;
but he stopped on the way to aid the operations at Umritsir. When the
news from Meerut arrived, Colonel Butler made such precautionary
arrangements as he could at the lines, while Lieutenant Griffith looked
watchfully after the fort and arsenal. Securing the telegraph, in order
that the sepoys of the 3d native infantry might not tamper with it, they
communicated with Jullundur, and were rejoiced to find that a small
force was about to be despatched from that place for their relief. As
soon as the authorities at the last named station became aware of the
insurgent proceedings, they determined, besides attending to the safety
of their own station, to aid Phillour; they sent a telegraphic officer
to make such arrangements as would keep the wire in working order; they
sent a message to Loodianah, to warn the deputy-commissioner to guard
the bridge of boats across the Sutlej; and they sent a small but compact
force to Phillour. This force consisted of a detachment of the Queen’s
8th foot, two horse-artillery guns, spare men and horses for the
artillery, and a small detachment of the 2d Punjaub cavalry. Knowing
that this welcome force was on the road, Colonel Butler and Lieutenant
Griffith sought to maintain tranquillity in Phillour during the night;
they closed the fort-gate at sunset; they placed a loaded light
field-piece just within the gate, with port-fires kept burning; and the
little band of Europeans remained on watch all night. At daybreak their
succour arrived; the force from Jullundur, commanded by Major Baines and
Lieutenants Sankey, Dobbin, and Probyn, marched the twenty-four miles of
distance without a single halt. The guns and cavalry, being intended
only as an escort on the road, and to aid in recovering the fort in the
event of its having been captured by the sepoys during the night,
returned to Jullundur, together with fifty of the infantry. The actual
reinforcement, therefore, was about a hundred of H.M. 8th foot, and a
few gunners to work the fort-guns if necessary. The little garrison
opened the fort-gates to admit this reinforcement—much to the dismay of
the sepoys in the cantonment; for, as was afterwards ascertained, a plot
had been formed whereby the fort was to be quietly taken possession of
on the 15th of the month, and used as a rendezvous for the sepoy
regiments in the Punjaub, when they had risen in mutiny, and formed a
system of tactics in reference to the great focus of rebellion at Delhi.
Thus were the days from the 11th to the 14th of May days of critical
importance in the eastern part of the Punjaub. Evidence almost
conclusive was obtained that the 15th was intended to have been a day of
grand mutiny among the Bengal sepoys stationed in that region: the
regimental officers knew nothing of this; some of them would not believe
it, even at the time of the disarming; but the current of belief tended
in that direction afterwards. There is very little doubt, as already
implied, that the Meerut outbreak occurred before the plans were ready
elsewhere; that event seemed to the British, and rightly so, a dreadful
one; but, if delayed five days, it would probably have been followed by
the shedding of an amount of European blood frightful to contemplate.
Having noticed the prompt measures taken at Lahore, Umritsir, Ferozpore,
Jullundur, and Phillour, shortly before the middle of May; it will be
useful, before tracing the course of subsequent revolt in some of the
eastern Punjaub stations, to attend to the state of affairs in the
western division, of which Peshawur was the chief city.
Peshawur was beyond the limits of British India until the annexation of
the Punjaub. Situated as it is on the main road from the Indus at Attock
to the Indian Caucasus range at the Khyber Pass, it has for ages been
regarded as an important military position, commanding one of the gates
of India. The Afghans and other Mohammedan tribes generally made their
irruptions into India by this route. During the complexities of Indian
politics and warfare, Peshawur passed from the hands of the Afghans to
those of the Sikhs, and then to the British, who proceeded to make it
the head-quarters of a military division. Peshawur had been so
ruthlessly treated by Runjeet Singh, after his capture of that place in
1818, that its fine Moslem buildings were mostly destroyed, its commerce
damaged, and its population diminished. At present, its inhabitants are
believed to be about sixty thousand in number. The fort is very strong;
it consists of lofty walls, round towers at the angles, semicircular
ravelins in front, faussebraies of substantial towers and walls, a wet
ditch, and one only gateway guarded by towers; within the enclosure are
capacious magazines and storehouses.
When the mutiny began, the Peshawur division contained about fourteen
thousand troops of all arms. A peculiar military system was found
necessary in this division, owing to the large proportion of
semi-civilised marauders among the inhabitants. The western frontier is
hilly throughout, being formed of the Indian Caucasus and the Suliman
Range, and being pierced by only a few roads, of which the Khyber Pass
and the Bolan Pass are the most famous. These passes and roads are for
the most part under the control of hardy mountaineers, who care very
little for any regular governments, whether Afghan, Sikh, or British,
and who require constant watching. Many of these men had been induced to
accept British pay as irregular horsemen; and Colonel (formerly Major)
Edwardes acquired great distinction for his admirable management of
these rough materials. The fourteen thousand troops in the Peshawur
division of the Punjaub comprised about three thousand European infantry
and artillery, eight thousand Bengal native infantry, three thousand
Bengal native cavalry and artillery, and a few Punjaubees and hill-men.
These were stationed at Peshawur, Nowsherah, Hoti Murdan, and the
frontier forts at the foot of the hills. Major-general Reid was chief
military authority at Peshawur. On the 13th of May he received
telegraphic news of the mutiny at Meerut and of the disarming at Lahore,
and immediately held a council of war, attended by himself, Brigadiers
Cotton and Neville Chamberlain, Colonels Edwardes and Nicholson.
Edwardes was chief-commissioner and superintendent of the Peshawur
division, besides being a military officer. It was resolved that, as
senior military officer in the Punjaub, General Reid should assume chief
command, and that his head-quarters should be with those of the Punjaub
civil government, at Lahore or elsewhere; while Cotton should command in
the Peshawur division. The council also agreed that, besides providing
as far as was possible for the safety of each station individually, a
‘movable column’ should be formed at Jelum, a station on the great road
about midway between Lahore and Peshawur—ready to move on any point in
the Punjaub where mutinous symptoms might appear. This force, it will be
seen,[31] was made up of a singular variety of troops, comprising all
arms of the service, irregulars as well as regulars, Europeans as well
as natives; but the Oudian or ‘Poorbeah’ element was almost wholly
absent, and by this absence was the efficiency of the column really
estimated. Various arrangements were at the same time made for so
distributing the European troops as to afford them the best control over
the sepoy regiments. At Peshawur itself, the Company’s treasure was sent
into the fort for safety, and the Residency was made the head-quarters
of the military authorities.
On the 21st of May, news reached Peshawur that the 55th Bengal native
infantry—encouraged probably by the withdrawal of the 27th foot from
Nowsherah to aid in forming the movable column—had mutinied at Murdan on
the preceding day, keeping their officers under strict surveillance, but
not molesting them; and that Colonel Spottiswoode, their commander, had
put an end to his existence through grief and mortification at this act.
The crisis being perilous, it was at once resolved to disarm the native
troops at Peshawur, or so much of them as excited most suspicion. This
was successfully accomplished on the morning of the 22d—much to the
chagrin of the officers of the disbanded regiments, who, here as
elsewhere, were among the last to admit the probability of
insubordination among their own troops. The 24th, 27th, and 51st
regiments of Bengal native infantry, and the 5th of light cavalry, were
on this occasion deprived of their arms; and a subadar-major of the 51st
was hanged in presence of all his companions in arms. The disarming was
effected by a clever distribution of the reliable forces; small parties
of European artillery and cavalry being confronted with each regiment,
in such way as to prevent aid being furnished by one to another. The men
were disarmed, but not allowed to desert, on pain of instant death if
caught making the attempt; and they were kept constantly watched by a
small force of Europeans, and by a body of irregular troopers who had no
sympathy whatever with Hindustanis. This done, a relieving force was at
once sent off to Murdan; a step which would have been dangerous while
sepoy troops still remained so strong at Peshawur. The small force of
Europeans and irregulars was found to be sufficient for this duty; it
arrived at Murdan, attacked the mutinous 55th, killed or captured two
hundred, and drove the rest away. These misguided insurgents ill
calculated the fate in store for them. Knowing that Mohammedan
hill-tribes were near at hand, and that those tribes had often been
hostile to the English, they counted on sympathy and support, but met
with defeat and death. The chivalrous Edwardes, who had so distinguished
himself in the Punjaub war, had gained a powerful influence among the
half-trained mountaineers on the Afghan border. While the detachment
from Peshawur was pursuing and cutting down many of the mutineers, the
hill-men were at that very time coming to Edwardes to ask for military
employment. These hill-men hated the Brahmins, and had something like
contempt for traitors; when, therefore, Edwardes sent them against the
mutineers, the latter soon found out their fatal error. ‘The petted
sepoy,’ says one who was in the Punjaub at the time, ‘whose every whim
had been too much consulted for forty years—who had been ready to murder
his officer, to dishonour his officer’s wife, and rip in pieces his
officer’s child, sooner than bite the end of a cartridge which he well
knew had _not_ been defiled—was now made to eat the bread and drink the
water of affliction: to submit at the hazard of his wretched life, which
he still tenaciously clung to, to ceremonies the least of which was more
damning to his caste than the mastication of a million of fat
cartridges.’ Even this was not the end; for the sepoys were brought back
to the British cantonment, in fives and tens, and there instantly put to
death; no quarter was given to men who shewed neither justice nor mercy
to others. There were other forts in the Peshawur Valley similar to that
at Murdan, places held by native regiments, in which little or no
reliance could be placed. There were four native regiments altogether in
these minor forts; and it became necessary to disarm these before the
safety of the British could be insured. Peshawur contained its full
Asiatic proportion of desperate scoundrels, who would have begun to
_loot_ at any symptom of discomfiture of the paramount power.
When this disarming of the native troops at the surrounding forts had
been effected, the authorities at Peshawur continued to look sharply
after the native troops at this important station. The disarmed 5th
irregular cavalry, having refused to go against the 55th at Murdan, were
at once and successfully disbanded. By a dexterous manœuvre, the
troopers were deprived of horses, weapons, coats, and boots, while the
mouths of cannon were gaping at them; they were then sent off in boats
down the Indus, with a hint to depart as far as possible from any
military stations. The authorities in the Punjaub, like Neill at Benares
and Allahabad, believed that mercy to the sepoys would be cruelty to all
besides at such a time; they shot, hanged, or blew away from guns with
terrible promptness, all who were found to be concerned in mutinous
proceedings. On one occasion a letter was intercepted, revealing the
fact that three natives of high rank (giving names) were to sit in
council on the morrow to decide what to do against the British; a
telegraphic message was sent off to Sir John Lawrence, for advice how to
act; a message was returned: ‘Let a spy attend and report;’ this was
done, and a plot discovered; another question brought back another
telegram: ‘Hang them all three;’ and in a quarter of an hour the hanging
was completed. The importance of retaining artillery in European hands
was strongly felt at Peshawur; to effect this, after many guns had been
sent away to strengthen the moving column, a hundred and sixty European
volunteers from the infantry were quickly trained to the work, and
placed in charge of a horse-battery of six guns, half the number on
horseback, and the other half sitting on the guns and wagons—all
actively put in training day after day to learn their new duties.
Fearful work the European gunners had sometimes to perform. Forty men of
the 55th regiment were ‘blown from guns’ in three days. An officer
present on the occasion says: ‘Three sides of a square were formed, ten
guns pointed outwards, the sentence of the court read, a prisoner bound
to each gun, the signal given, and the salvo fired. Such a scene I hope
never again to witness—human trunks, heads, arms, legs flying about in
all directions. All met their fate with firmness but two; so to save
time they were dropped to the ground, and their brains blown out by
musketry.’ It sounds strangely to English ears that such a terrible
death should occasionally be mentioned as a _concession_ or matter of
favour; yet such was the case. Mr Montgomery, judicial commissioner of
the Punjaub, issued an address to one of the native regiments, two
sepoys of which had been blown away from guns for mutinous conduct. He
exhorted them to fidelity, threatened them with the consequences of
insubordination, and added: ‘You have just seen two men of your regiment
blown from guns. This is the punishment I will inflict on all traitors
and mutineers; and your consciences will tell you what punishment they
may expect hereafter. These men have been blown from guns, and not
hanged, because they were Brahmins, and _because I wished to save them
from the pollution of the hangman’s touch_; and thus prove to you that
the British government does not wish to injure your caste and religion.’
The treachery and cruelty of the mutinous sepoys soon dried up all this
tenderness as to the mode in which they would prefer to be put to death.
We have seen Neill at Cawnpore, after the revelation of the horrors in
the slaughter-room, compelling the Brahmin rebels to pollute themselves
by wiping up the gore they had assisted to shed, as a means of striking
horror into the hearts of miscreant Brahmins elsewhere.
In addition to the severe measures for preserving obedience, other
precautions were taken involving no shedding of blood. A new levy of
Punjaubee troopers was obtained by Edwardes from the Moultan region; the
disarmed sepoys were removed from their lines, and made to encamp in a
spot where they could be constantly watched; a land-transport train was
organised, for the conveyance of European troops from place to place;
the fort was strengthened, provisioned, and guarded against all
surprises; the artillery park was defended by an earthwork; and trusty
officers were sent out in various directions to obtain recruits for
local irregular corps—enlisting men rough in bearing and unscrupulous in
morals, but who knew when they were well commanded, and who had no kind
of affection for Hindustanis. Thus did Cotton, Edwardes, Nicholson, and
the other officers, energetically carry out plans that kept Peshawur at
peace, and enabled Sir John Lawrence to send off troops in aid of the
force besieging Delhi. Colonel Edwardes, it may here be stated, had been
in Calcutta in the month of March; and had there heard that Sikhs in
some of the Bengal regiments were taking their discharge, as if
foreseeing some plot then in preparation; this confirmed his
predilection for Punjaub troops over ‘Poorbeahs.’ The activity in
raising troops in the remotest northwest corner of India appears to have
been a double benefit to the British; for it provided a serviceable body
of hardy troops, and it gratified the natives of the Peshawur Valley.
This matter was adverted to in a letter written by Edwardes. ‘This post
(Peshawur), so far from being more arduous in future, will be more
secure. Events here have taken a wonderful turn. During peace, Peshawur
was an incessant anxiety; now it is the strongest point in India. We
have struck two great blows—we have disarmed our own troops, and have
raised levies of all the people of the country. The troops (sepoys) are
confounded; they calculated on being backed by the people. The people
are delighted, and a better feeling has sprung up between them and us in
this enlistment than has ever been obtained before. I have also called
on my old country, the Derajat, and it is quite delightful to see how
the call is answered. Two thousand horsemen, formerly in my army at
Moultan, are now moving on different points, according to order, to help
us in this difficulty; and every post brings me remonstrances from
chiefs as to why they have been forgotten. This is really gratifying.’
It may be here stated that Sir John Lawrence, about the end of May,
suggested to Viscount Canning by telegraph the expediency of allowing
Bengal sepoys to retire from the army and receive their pay, if they
preferred so doing, and if they had not been engaged in mutinous
proceedings—as a means of sifting the good from the bad; but Canning
thought this would be dangerous east of the Sutlej; and it does not
appear to have been acted on anywhere.
These exertions were materially aided by the existence of a remarkable
police system in the Punjaub—one of the benefits which the Lawrences and
their associates introduced. The Punjaub police was of three kinds.
First was the _military_ police, consisting of two corps of irregular
infantry, seven battalions of foot, one regiment cavalry, and
twenty-seven troops of horse—amounting altogether to about thirteen
thousand men. These men were thoroughly disciplined, and were ready at
all times to encounter the marauding tribes from the mountains. Then
came the _civil_ police, comprising about nine thousand men, and
distributed over nearly three hundred thannahs or subordinate
jurisdictions, to protect thirty thousand villages and small places: the
men were armed with swords and carbines. Lastly were the _constabulary_,
thirteen hundred men in the cities, and thirty thousand in the rural
districts; these were a sort of watchmen, dressed in a plain drab
uniform, and carrying only a staff and a spear. This large police army
of more than fifty thousand men was not only efficient, when well
officered, in maintaining tranquillity, but furnished excellent recruits
for regiments of Sikh and Punjaubee soldiers.
Sir John Lawrence issued a vigorous proclamation, encouraging the native
troops to remain faithful, and threatening them with dire consequences
if they revolted; but from the first he relied very little on such
appeals to the Bengal troops. Leaving this subject, however, and
directing attention to those events only which bore with any weight on
the progress of the mutiny, we shall now rapidly glance at Punjaub
affairs in the summer months. Many struggles took place, too slight to
require much notice. One was the disarming of a native regiment at
Noorpore. Another, on June 13th, was the execution of twelve men at
Ferozpore, belonging to the 45th N. I., for mutiny after being disarmed.
It was early in June that the station at Jullundur became a prey to
insurgent violence. On the 3d of the month, a fire broke out in the
lines of the 61st native infantry—a bad symptom wherever it occurred in
those days. On the following night a hospital was burned. On the 6th,
the 4th regiment Sikh infantry marched into the station, as well as a
native troop of horse-artillery; but, owing to some uneasiness displayed
by the Bengal troops, the Sikh regiment was removed to another
station—as if the brigadier in command were desirous not to offend or
irritate the petted regiments from the east. At eleven o’clock at night
on the 7th, the close of a quiet Sunday—again Sunday!—a sudden alarm of
fire was given, and a lurid glare was seen over the lines of the 36th
native infantry. The officers rushed to their respective places; and
then it was found that the 6th native cavalry, wavering for a time, had
at last given way to the mutinous impulse that guided the 36th and 61st
infantry, and that all three regiments were threatening the officers.
The old sad story might again be told; the story of some of the officers
being shot as they spoke and appealed to the fidelity of their men; of
others being shot at or sabred as they ran or rode across the
parade-ground; of ladies and children being affrighted at the artillery
barracks, where they had been wont to sleep for greater security. The
mutineers had evidently expected the native artillery to join them; but
fortunately these latter were so dove-tailed with the European
artillery, and were so well looked after by a company of the 8th foot,
that they could not mutiny if they would. All the Europeans who fled to
the artillery barracks and lines were safe; the guns protected them. The
mutineers, after an hour or two of the usual mischief, made off. About
one half the cavalry regiment mutinied, but as all confidence was lost
in them, the rest were deprived of horses and arms, and the regiment
virtually ceased to exist. The officers were overwhelmed with
astonishment and mortification; some of them had gone to rest on that
evening in perfect reliance on their men. One of the cavalry officers
afterwards said: ‘Some of our best men have proved the most active in
this miserable business. A rough rider in my troop, who had been riding
my charger in the morning, and had played with my little child, was one
of the men who charged the guns.’ This officer, like many others, had no
other theory to offer than that his troopers mutinied in a ‘panic,’
arising from the sinister rumours that ran like wildfire through the
lines and bazaars of the native troops, shaking the fidelity of those
who had not previously taken part in any conspiracy. It was the only
theory which their bitterness of heart allowed them to contemplate with
any calmness; for few military men could admit without deep
mortification that they had been ignorant of, and deceived by, their own
soldiers down to the very last moment.
While a portion of the 6th cavalry remained, disarmed and unhorsed but
not actually disbanded, at Jullundur, the two regiments and a half of
mutineers marched off towards Phillour, as if bound for Delhi. At the
instant the mutiny began, a telegraphic message had been sent from
Jullundur to Phillour, to break the bridge of boats over the Sutlej, and
thereby prevent the rebels from crossing from the Punjaub into Sirhind.
Unfortunately, the telegraphic message failed to reach the officer to
whom it was sent. The 3d regiment Bengal native cavalry, at Phillour,
might, as the commanding officer at that time thought, have been
maintained in discipline if the Jullundur mutineers had not disturbed
them; but when the 36th and 61st native infantry, and the 6th cavalry
were approaching, all control was found to be lost. The telegraphic
wires being cut, no news could reach Phillour, and thus the insurgents
from Jullundur made their appearance wholly unexpected—by the Europeans,
if not by the troopers. The ladies and families were at once hastened
off from the cantonment to the fort, which had just before been
garrisoned by a hundred men of H.M. 8th foot. The officers then went on
parade, where they found themselves unable to bring the 3d regiment to a
sense of their duty; the men promised to keep their hands clear of
murder, but they would not fight against the approaching rebels from
Jullundur. The officers then returned to the fort powerless; for the
handful of Europeans there, though sufficient to defend the fort, were
unable to encounter four mutinous regiments in the cantonment. In a day
or two, all the ladies and children were sent off safely to the hills;
and the cavalry officers were left without immediate duties. The tactics
of the brigadier at Jullundur were at that crisis somewhat severely
criticised. It was considered that he ought to have made such
arrangements as would have prevented the mutineers from crossing the
Sutlej. He followed them, with such a force as he could spare or
collect; but while he was planning to cut off the bridge of boats that
spanned the Sutlej between Phillour and Loodianah, they avoided that
spot altogether; they crossed the river six miles further up, and
proceeded on their march towards Delhi—attacked at certain places by
Europeans and by Sikhs, but not in sufficient force to frustrate their
purpose.
Although belonging to a region east of the Punjaub, it may be well
here to notice another of the June mutinies nearer the focus of
disaffection. One of the regiments that took its officers by surprise
in mutinying was the 60th B. N. I.; of which the head-quarters had
been at Umballa, but which was at Bhotuck, only three marches from
Delhi, when the fidelity of the men gave way. One of the English
officers, expressing his utter astonishment at this result, said: ‘All
gone! The men that we so trusted; my own men, with whom I have shot,
played cricket, jumped, entered into all their sports, and treated so
kindly!’ He thought it almost cruel to subject that regiment to such
temptation as would be afforded by close neighbourhood with the
mutineers at Delhi. But, right or wrong, the temptation was afforded,
and proved too strong to be resisted. It afterwards became known that
the 60th received numerous letters and messages from within Delhi,
entreating them to join the national cause against the Kaffir
Feringhees. On the 11th of June, the sepoys suddenly rose, and fired a
volley at a tent within which many of the officers were at mess, but
fortunately without fatal results. Many of the officers at once
galloped off to the camp outside Delhi, feeling they might be more
useful there than with a mutinous regiment; while others stayed a
while, in the vain hope of bringing the men back to a sense of their
duty. After plundering the mess of the silver-plate and the wine, and
securing the treasure-chest, the mutineers made off for Delhi. Here,
however, a warm reception was in store for them; their officers had
given the alarm; and H.M. 9th Lancers cut the mutineers up terribly on
the road leading to the Lahore Gate. Of those who entered the city,
most fell in a sortie shortly afterwards. At the place where this
regiment had been stationed, Umballa, another death-fiend—cholera—was
at work. ‘We have had that terrible scourge the cholera. It has been
raging here with frightful violence for two months (May to July); but,
thank God, has now left us without harming the Sahibs. It seemed a
judgment on the natives. They were reeling about and falling dead in
the streets, and no one to remove them. It is the only time we have
looked on it as an ally; though it has carried off many soldiers, two
native officers, and six policemen, who were guarding prisoners; all
fell dead at the same place; as one dropped, another stepped forward
and took his place; and so on the whole lot.’ It was one of the
grievous results of the Indian mutiny that English officers, in very
bitterness of heart, often expressed satisfaction at the calamities
which fell on the natives, even townsmen unconnected with the
soldiery.
Jelum, which was the scene of a brief but very fierce contest in July,
is a considerable town on the right bank of the river of the same name;
it is situated on the great line of road from Lahore to Peshawur; and
plans have for some time been under consideration for the establishment
of river-steamers thence down through Moultan to Kurachee. Like many
other places on the great high road, it was a station for troops; and
like many other stations, it was thrown into uneasiness by doubts of the
fidelity of the sepoys. The 14th regiment Bengal native infantry, about
three-fourths of which were stationed at Jelum, having excited
suspicions towards the end of June, it was resolved to disarm them; but
as no force was at hand to effect this, three companies of H.M. 24th
foot, under Colonel Ellice, with a few horse-artillery, were ordered
down from Rawul Pindee. On the 7th of July the English troops arrived,
and found the native regiment drawn up on parade. Whether exasperated at
the frustration of a proposed plan of mutiny, or encouraged by their
strength being thrice that of the English, is not well known; but the
14th attacked the English with musketry directly they approached. This
of course brought on an immediate battle. The sepoys had fortified their
huts, loopholed their walls, and secured a defensive position in a
neighbouring village. The English officers of the native regiment,
deserted and fired at by their men, hastened to join the 24th; and a
very severe exchange of musketry soon took place. The sepoys fought so
boldly, and disputed every inch so resolutely, that it was found
necessary to bring the three guns into requisition to drive them out of
their covered positions. At last they were expelled, and escaped into
the country; where the British, having no cavalry, were unable to follow
them. It was an affair altogether out of the usual order in India at
that time: instead of being a massacre or a chasing of treacherously
betrayed individuals, it was a fight in which the native troops met the
British with more than their usual resolution. The loss in this brief
conflict was severe. Colonel Ellice was terribly wounded in the chest
and the thigh; Captain Spring was killed; Lieutenants Streathfield and
Chichester were wounded, one in both legs, and the other in the arm; two
sergeants and twenty-three men were killed; four corporals and
forty-three men wounded. Thus, out of this small force, seventy-six were
either killed or wounded. The government authorities at Jelum
immediately offered a reward of thirty rupees a head for every fugitive
sepoy captured. This led to the capture of about seventy in the next two
days, and to a fearful scene of shooting and blowing away from guns.
On the same day, July 7th, when three companies of H.M. 24th were thus
engaged at Jelum, the other companies of the same regiment were engaged
at Rawul Pindee in disarming the 58th native infantry and two companies
of the 14th. The sepoys hesitated for a time, but seeing a small force
of horse-artillery confronted to them, yielded; some fled, but the rest
gave up their arms. Two hundred of their muskets were found to be
loaded, a significant indication of some murderous intent.
The mutiny at Sealkote, less fatal than that at Jelum in reference to
the conflict of troops in fair fight, was more adventurous, more marked
by ‘hair-breadth ‘scapes’ among the officers and their families.
Sealkote is a town of about twenty thousand inhabitants, in the Doab
between the Chenab and the Ravee, on the left bank of the first-named
river, and about sixty miles distant from Lahore. At the time of the
mutiny there was a rifle-practice depôt at this place. The sepoys
stationed at Sealkote had often been in conversation with their European
officers concerning the cartridge-question, and had expressed themselves
satisfied with the explanations offered. During the active operations
for forming movable columns in the Punjaub, either to protect the
various stations or to form a Delhi siege-army, all the European troops
at Sealkote were taken away, as well as some of the native regiments;
leaving at that place only the 46th Bengal native infantry, and a wing
of the 9th native cavalry, in cantonment, while within the fort were
about a hundred and fifty men of the new Sikh levies. The brigadier
commandant was rendered very uneasy by this removal of his best troops;
some of his officers had already recommended the disarming of the sepoys
before the last of the Queen’s troops were gone; but he was scrupulous
of shewing any distrust of the native army; he felt and acted in this
matter more like a Bengal officer than a Punjaub officer—relying on the
honour and fidelity of the ‘Poorbeah’ troops. His anxieties greatly
increased when he heard that the 14th native infantry, after revolting
at Jelum, were approaching Sealkote. Many of them, it is true, had been
cut up by a few companies of the Queen’s 24th; but still the remainder
might very easily tempt his own sepoys and troopers. Nevertheless, to
the last day, almost to the last hour, many of the regimental officers
fully trusted the men; and even their ladies slept near the lines, for
safety.
The troops appear to have laid a plan on the evening of the 8th of July,
for a mutiny on the following morning. At four o’clock on the 9th,
sounds of musketry and cries of distress were heard, rousing all the
Europeans from their slumbers. An officer on night-picket duty near the
cavalry lines observed a few troopers going towards the infantry lines.
It was afterwards discovered that these troopers went to the sepoys,
told them ‘the letters’ had come, and urged them to revolt at
once—implying complicity with mutineers elsewhere; but the officer could
not know this at the time: he simply thought the movement suspicious,
and endeavoured to keep his own sepoy guards from contact with the
troopers. In this, however, he failed; the sepoys soon left him, and
went over to the troopers. He hurried to his bungalow, told his wife to
hasten in a buggy to the fort, and then went himself towards the lines
of his regiment. This was a type of what occurred generally. The
officers sought to send their wives and families from their various
bungalows into the fort, and then hastened to their duties. These duties
brought them into the presence of murderous troops at the regimental
lines; troops who fired on the very officers that to the last had
trusted them. Especially was the mortification great among the Europeans
connected with the 46th; for when they begged their sepoys to fire upon
the mutinous troopers, the sepoys fired at them instead. A captain, two
surgeons, a clergyman, and his wife and child, were killed almost at the
very beginning of the outbreak; while Brigadier Brind and other officers
were wounded.
There were no wanderings over burning roads and through thick jungles to
record in this case; but a few isolated adventures may be briefly
noticed. Two or three roads from the lines and bungalows to the fort
became speedily marked by fleeing Europeans—officers, ladies, and
children—in vehicles, on horseback, and on foot—all trying to reach the
fort, and all attacked or pursued by the treacherous villains. Dr
Graham, the superintending surgeon, on the alarm being raised, drove
quickly with his daughter towards the fort; a trooper rode up and shot
him dead; his bereaved daughter seized the reins, and, with the corpse
of her parent on her lap, drove into the nearest compound, screaming for
help. A young lieutenant of the 9th cavalry, when it came to his turn to
flee, had to dash past several troopers, who fired many shots, one only
of which hit him. He galloped thirty miles to Wuzeerabad, wounded as he
was; and, all his property being left behind him only to be ruthlessly
destroyed, he had, to use his own words, to look forward to begin the
world again, ‘with a sword, and a jacket cut up the back.’ Three
officers galloped forty miles to Gujeranwalla, swimming or wading the
rivers that crossed their path. One of the captains of the 46th, who was
personally much liked by the sepoys of his own company, was startled by
receiving from them an offer of a thousand rupees per month if he would
become a rebel like them, and still remain their captain! What answer he
gave to this strange offer may easily be conceived; but his company
remained kind to him, for they saw him safely escorted to the fort. In
one of the bungalows fourteen persons, of whom only three were men,
sought refuge from the murderous sepoys and troopers. The women and
children all congregated in a small lumber-room; the three gentlemen
remained in the drawing-room, pistols in hand. Then ensued a brisk scene
of firing and counter-firing; during which, however, only one life
appears to have been lost: the love of plunder in this case overpowered
the love of murder; for the insurgents, compelling the gentlemen to
retreat to their poor companions in the lumber-room, and there besieging
them for a time, turned their attention to loot or plunder. After ten
hours sojourn of fourteen persons in a small room in a sultry July day,
the Europeans, finding that the mutineers were wandering in other
directions, contrived to make a safe and hasty run to the fort, a
distance of upwards of a mile. Some of the Europeans at the station, as
we have said, were killed; some escaped by a brisk gallop; while the
rest were shut up for a fortnight in the fort, in great discomfort,
until the mutineers went away. There being no European soldiers at
Sealkote, the sepoys and sowars acted as they pleased; they pillaged the
bungalows, exploded the magazine, let loose the prisoners in the jail,
and then started off, like other mutineers, in the direction of Delhi.
One of the most touching incidents at Sealkote bore relation to a
nunnery, a convent of nuns belonging to the order of Jesus Marie of
Lyon, a Roman Catholic establishment analogous to that at Sirdhana near
Meerut, already brought under notice (p. 57). The superior at Lyon, many
weeks afterwards, received a letter from one of the sisters,[32] giving
an affecting account of the way in which the quiet religieuses were
hunted about by the mutineers.
When the Sealkote mutineers had taken their departure towards Delhi, a
force was organised at Jelum as quickly as possible to pursue them. This
force, under Colonel Brown, comprised three companies of H.M. 24th foot,
two hundred Sikhs, a hundred irregular horse, and three horse-artillery
guns. The energetic Brigadier Nicholson, in command of a flying column
destined for Delhi, comprising the 52d light infantry, the 6th Punjaub
cavalry, and other troops, made arrangements at the same time for
intercepting the mutineers. It thus happened that on the 12th of July,
the insurgent 46th and 9th regiments when they reached the Ravee from
Sealkote, found themselves hemmed in; and after an exciting contest on
an island in the river, they were almost entirely cut up.
About the close of July, the disarmed 26th native infantry mutinied at
Lahore, killed Major Spencer and two native officers, and fled up the
left bank of the Ravee; but the police, the new levies, and the
villagers pursued them so closely and harassed them so continuously,
that hardly a man remained alive. In August, something of the same kind
occurred at other places in the Punjaub; native Bengal regiments still
were there, disarmed but not disbanded; and it could not be otherwise
than that the men felt chafed and discontented with such a state of
things. If faithful, they felt the degradation of being disarmed; if
hollow in their professed fidelity, they felt the irksomeness of being
closely watched in cantonment. At Ferozpore, on the 19th of August, a
portion of the 10th native cavalry, that had before been disarmed,
mutinied, and endeavoured to capture the guns of Captain Woodcock’s
battery; they rushed at the guns while the artillerymen were at dinner,
and killed the veterinary surgeon and one or two other persons; but a
corps of Bombay Fusiliers, in the station at that time, repulsed and
dispersed them. At Peshawur, where it was found frequently necessary to
search the huts and tents of the disarmed sepoys, for concealed weapons,
the 51st native infantry resisted this search on the 28th of the month;
they beat their officers with cudgels, and endeavoured to seize the arms
of a Sikh corps while those men were at dinner. They were foiled, and
fled towards the hills; but a disastrous flight was it for them; more
than a hundred were shot before they could get out of the lines, a
hundred and fifty more were cut down during an immediate pursuit, nearly
four hundred were brought in prisoners, to be quickly tried and shot,
and some of the rest were made slaves by the mountaineers of the Khyber
Pass, who would by no means ‘fraternise’ with them. Thus the regiment
was in effect annihilated. There were then three disarmed native
regiments left in Peshawur, which were kept so encamped that loaded guns
in trusty hands might always point towards them.
The course of events in the Punjaub need not be traced further in any
connected form. From first to last the plan adopted was pretty uniform
in character. When the troubles began, there were about twenty regiments
of the Bengal native army in the Punjaub; and these regiments were at
once and everywhere distrusted by Sir John Lawrence and his chief
officers. If hope and confidence were felt, it was rather by the
regimental officers, to whom disloyalty in their respective corps was
naturally mortifying and humiliating. All the sepoys were disarmed and
the sowars dismounted, as soon as suspicious symptoms appeared; some
regiments remained at the stations, disarmed, throughout the whole of
the summer and autumn; some mutinied, before or after disarming; but
very few indeed lived to reach the scene of rebel supremacy at Delhi;
for they were cut up by the Europeans, Sikhs, Punjaubees, or hill-men
which the Punjaub afforded. Gladly as every one, whether civilian or
military, acknowledged the eminent services of Sir John Lawrence; there
were, it must be admitted, certain advantages available to him which
were utterly denied to Mr Colvin, the responsible chief of the Northwest
Provinces, in which the mutiny raged more fiercely than anywhere else.
When the troubles began, the Punjaub was better furnished with regiments
of the Queen’s army than any other part of India; while the native
Sikhs, Punjaubee Mohammedans, and hill-men, were either indifferent or
hostile to the sepoys of Hindostan proper. The consequences of this
state of things were two: the native troops were more easily disarmed;
and those who mutinied were more in danger of annihilation before they
could get east of the Sutlej. In the Northwest Provinces the
circumstances were far more disastrous; the British troops were
relatively fewer; and the people were more nearly in accord with the
sepoys, in so far as concerned national and religious sympathies. In the
Meerut military division, when the mutiny had fairly commenced, besides
those at Meerut station, there was only one European regiment (at Agra),
against ten native regiments, irrespective of those which mutinied at
Meerut and Delhi. In the Cawnpore military division, comprising the
great stations of Lucknow, Allahabad, Cawnpore, and the whole of Oude,
there was scarcely more than one complete European regiment, against
thirty native Bengal and Oude regiments, regular and irregular. In the
Dinapoor military division, comprising Benares, Patna, Ghazeepore, and
other large cities, together with much government wealth in the form of
treasure and opium, there was in like manner only one British regiment,
against sixteen native corps. There was at the same time this additional
difficulty; that no such materials were at hand as in the Punjaub, for
raising regiments of horse and foot among tribes who would sympathise
but little with the mutineers.
[Illustration:
Camel and Rider.
]
Sir John Lawrence was at first in some doubt what course to follow in
relation to the liberty of the press. The Calcutta authorities, as we
shall see in the next chapter, thought it proper to curtail that liberty
in Bengal and the Northwest Provinces. Sir John, unwilling on the one
hand to place the Europeans in the Punjaub in the tormenting condition
of seclusion from all sources of news, and unwilling on the other to
leave the news-readers at the mercy of inaccurate or unscrupulous
news-writers at such a critical time, adopted a medium course. He caused
the _Lahore Chronicle_ to be made the medium of conveying official news
of all that was occurring in India, so far as rapid outlines were
concerned. The government secretary at that place sent every day to the
editor of the newspaper an epitome of the most important public news.
This epitome was printed on small quarter-sheets of paper, and
despatched by each day’s post to all the stations in the Punjaub. The
effect was—that false rumours and sinister reports were much less
prevalent in the Punjaub than in Bengal; men were not thrown into
mystery by a suppression of journalism; but were candidly told how
events proceeded, so far as information had reached that remote part of
India. The high character of the chief-commissioner was universally held
as a guarantee that the news given in the epitome, whether little or
much in quantity, would be honestly rendered; the scheme would have been
a failure under a chief who did not command respect and win confidence.
As the summer advanced, and dâks and wires were interrupted, the news
obtainable became very scanty. The English in the Punjaub were placed in
a most tantalising position. Aware that matters were going wrong at
Delhi and Agra, at Lucknow and Cawnpore, they did not know _how_ wrong;
for communication was well-nigh cut off. As the cities just named lie
between the Punjaub and Calcutta, all direct communication with the seat
of government was still more completely cut off. The results of this
were singularly trying. ‘Gradually,’ says an officer writing from the
Punjaub, ‘papers and letters reached us from Calcutta _viâ_ Bombay. It
is not the least striking illustration of the complete revolution that
has occurred in India, that the news from the Gangetic valley—say from
Allahabad and Cawnpore—was known in London sooner than at Lahore. We had
been accustomed to receive our daily letters and newspapers from every
part of the empire with the same unfailing regularity as in England.
Suddenly we found ourselves separated from Calcutta for two months of
time. Painfully must a letter travel from the eastern capital to the
western port—from Calcutta to Bombay; painfully must it toil up the
unsettled provinces of the western coast; slowly must it jog along on
mule-back across the sands of Sinde; many queer twists and unwonted
turns must that letter take, many enemies must it baffle and elude,
before, much bestamped, much stained with travel—for Indian letter-bags
are not water-proof—it is delivered to its owner at Lahore.... Slowly,
very slowly, the real truth dragged its way up the country. It is only
this very 29th of September that this writer in the Punjaub has read
anything like a connected account of the fearful tragedy at Cawnpore,
which, once read or heard, no Englishman can ever forget.’
Attention must now for a brief space be directed to the country of Sinde
or Scinde; not so much for the purpose of narrating the progress of
mutiny there, as to shew how it happened that there were few materials
out of which mutiny could arise.
Sinde is the region which bounds the lower course of the river Indus,
also called Sinde. The name is supposed to have had the same origin as
Sindhi or Hindi, connected with the great Hindoo race. When the Indus
has passed out of the Punjaub at its lower apex, it enters Sinde,
through which it flows to the ocean, which bounds Sinde on the south;
east is Rajpootana, and west Beloochistan. The area of Sinde is about
equal to that of England without Wales. The coast is washed by the
Indian Ocean for a distance of about a hundred and fifty miles; being,
with very few exceptions, little other than a series of mud-banks
deposited by the Indus, or low sand-hills blown in from the sea-beach.
So low is most of the shore, that a wide expanse of country is
overflowed at each high tide; it is a dreary swamp, scarcely observable
from shipboard three or four miles out at sea. The mouths of the Indus
are numerous, but so shallow that only one of them admits ships of any
considerable burden; and even that one is subject to so many
fluctuations in depth and in weather, that sea-going vessels scarcely
enter it at all. Kurachee, the only port in Sinde, is a considerable
distance west of all these mouths; and the mercantile world looks
forward with much solicitude to the time when a railway will be formed
from this port to Hydrabad, a city placed at the head of the delta of
the Indus. This delta, in natural features, resembles that of the Nile
rather than that of the Ganges, being nearly destitute of timber. On
each side of the Indus, for a breadth varying from two to twelve miles,
is a flat alluvial tract, in most places extremely fertile. Many parts
of Sinde are little better than desert; such as the _Pât_, between
Shikarpore and the Bolan Pass, and the _Thur_, nearer to the river. In
general, it may be said that no part of Sinde is fertile except where
the Indus irrigates it; for there is little either of rain or dew, and
the climate is intensely hot. Camels are largely reared in Sinde; and
the Sindians have abundant reason to value this animal. It is to him a
beast of burden; its milk is a favourite article of diet; its hair is
woven into coarse cloth; and it renders him service in many other ways.
The Sindians are an interesting race, both in themselves and in their
political relations. They are a mixture of Jâts and Beloochees, among
whom the distinction between Hindoo and Mussulman has a good deal broken
down. The Beloochees are daring, warlike Mohammedans; the Jâts are
Hindoos less rigorous in matters of faith and caste than those of
Hindostan; while the Jâts who have become Mohammedans are a peaceful
agricultural race, somewhat despised by both the others. The Sindians
collectively are a dark, handsome, well-limbed race; and it was a
favourite opinion of Sir William Jones, that they were the original of
the gipsies. The languages spoken are a mixture of Hindi, Beloochee, and
Persian.
The chain of events which brought Sinde under British rule may be traced
in a few sentences. About thirteen centuries ago the country was invaded
by the Persians, who ravaged it without making a permanent settlement.
The califs at a later date conquered Sinde; from them it was taken by
the Afghans of Ghiznee; and in the time of Baber it fell into the hands
of the chief of Candahar. It was then, for a century and a half, a
dependency of the Mogul Empire. For a few years Nadir Shah held it; next
the Moguls retook it; and in 1756 Sinde fell under the rule of the
Cabool khans, which was maintained nearly to the time when the British
seized the sovereign power. Although subject to Cabool, Sinde was really
governed by eight or ten native princes, called Ameers, who had among
them three distinct territories marked by the cities of Hydrabad,
Khyrpore, and Meerpoor. Under these ameers the government was a sort of
military despotism, each ameer having a power of life and death; but in
warlike affairs they were dependent on feudal chieftains, each of whom
held an estate on condition of supplying a certain number of soldiers.
The British had various trading treaties with the ameers; one of which,
in 1832, opened the roads and rivers of Sinde to the commerce of the
Company. When, in 1838, the eyes of the governor-general were directed
anxiously towards Afghanistan, Sinde became involved in diplomatic
conferences, in which the British, the Afghans, the Sindians, and
Runjeet Singh were all concerned. These conferences led to quarrels, to
treaties, to accusations of breach of faith, which we need not trace:
suffice it to say that Sir Charles James Napier, with powers of the pen
and of the sword intrusted to him, settled the Sinde difficulty once for
all, in 1848, by fighting battles which led to the annexation of that
country to the Company’s dominions. The former government was entirely
put an end to; and the ameers were pensioned off with sums amounting in
the aggregate to about fifty thousand pounds per annum. Some of these
Ameers, like other princes of India, afterwards came to England in the
hope of obtaining better terms from Queen Victoria than had been
obtainable from the Company Bahadoor.
When Sinde became a British province, it was separated into three
collectorates or districts—Shikarpore, Hydrabad, and Kurachee; a new
system of revenue administration was introduced; annual fairs were
established at Kurachee and Sukur; and peaceful commerce was everywhere
so successfully established, that the country improved rapidly, greatly
to the content of the mass of the people, who had formerly been ground
down by the ameers’ government. For military purposes, Sinde was made a
division, under the Bombay presidency.
Sinde, at the commencement of the mutiny, contained about seven thousand
troops of all arms, native and European. The military arrangements had
brought much distinction to Colonel (afterwards Brigadier-general) John
Jacob, whose ‘Sinde Irregular Horse’ formed a corps much talked of in
India. It consisted of about sixteen hundred men, in two regiments of
eight hundred each, carefully drilled, and armed and equipped in the
European manner, yet having only five European officers; the squadron
and troop commanders were native officers. The brigadier uniformly
contended that it was the best cavalry corps in India; and that the
efficiency of such a regiment did _not_ depend so much on the number of
European officers, as on the manner in which they fulfilled their
duties, and the kind of discipline which they maintained among the men.
On these points he was frequently at issue with the Bengal officers; for
he never failed to point out the superiority of the system in the Bombay
army, where men were enlisted irrespective of caste, and where there
were better means of rewarding individual merit.[33] Nationally
speaking, they were not Sindians at all; being drawn from other parts of
India, in the ratio of three-fourths Mohammedans to one-fourth Hindoos.
When the mutiny began in the regions further east, ten or twelve
permanent outposts on the Sinde frontier were held by detachments of the
Sinde Irregular Horse, of forty to a hundred and twenty men each, wholly
commanded by native officers. These men, and the head-quarters at
Jacobabad (a camp named after the gallant brigadier), remained faithful,
though sometimes tempted by sepoys and troopers of the Bengal army. A
curious correspondence took place later in the year, through the medium
of the newspapers, between Brigadier Jacob and Major Pelly on the one
side, and Colonel Sykes on the other. The colonel had heard that Jacob
ridiculed the greased cartridge affair, as a matter that would never be
allowed to trouble _his_ corps; and he sought to shew that it was no
subject for laughter: ‘Brigadier John Jacob knows full well that if he
were to order his Mohammedan soldiers (though they may venerate him) to
bite a cartridge greased with pigs’ fat, or his high-caste troopers to
bite a cartridge greased with cows’ fat, both the one and the other
would promptly refuse obedience, and in case he endeavoured to enforce
it, they would shoot him down.’ Jacob and Pelly at once disputed this;
they both asserted that the Mohammedans and Hindoos in the Sinde Horse
would never be mutinous on such a point, unless other sources of
dissatisfaction existed, and unless they believed it was _purposely_
done to insult their faith. ‘If it were really necessary,’ said the
brigadier, ‘in the performance of our ordinary military duty, to use
swine’s fat or cows’ fat, or anything else whatever, not a word or a
thought would pass about the matter among any members of the Horse, and
the nature of the substances made use of would not be thought of or
discussed at all, except with reference to the fitness for the purpose
to which they were to be applied.’ The controversialists did not succeed
in convincing each other; they continued to hold diametrically opposite
opinions on a question intimately connected with the early stages of the
mutiny—thereby adding to the perplexities of those wishing to solve the
important problem: ‘What was the cause of the mutiny?’
Owing partly to the great distance from the disturbed provinces of
Hindostan, partly to the vicinity of the well-disposed Bombay army, and
partly to the activity and good organisation of Jacob’s Irregular Horse,
Sinde was affected with few insurgent proceedings during the year. At
one time a body of fanatical Mohammedans would unfurl the green flag,
and call upon each other to fight for the Prophet. At another time,
gangs of robbers and hill-men, of which India has in all ages had an
abundant supply, would take advantage of the troubled state of public
feeling to rush forth on marauding expeditions, caring much for plunder
and little for faith of any kind. At another, alarms would be given
which induced European ladies and families to take refuge in the forts
or other defensive positions at Kurachee, Hydrabad, Shikarpore,
Jacobabad, &c., where English officers were stationed. At another,
regiments of the Bengal army would try to tamper with the fidelity of
other troops in Sinde. But of these varied incidents, few were so
serious in results as to need record here. One, interesting in many
particulars, arose out of the following circumstance: When some of the
Sinde forces were sent to Persia, the 6th Bengal irregular cavalry
arrived to supply their place. These troopers, when the mutiny was at
least four months old, endeavoured to form a plan with some Beloochee
Mohammedans for the murder of the British officers at the camp of
Jacobabad. A particular hour on the 21st of August was named for this
outrage, in which various bands of Beloochees were invited to assist.
The plot was revealed to Captain Merewether, who immediately confided in
the two senior native officers of the Sinde Irregular Horse. Orders were
issued that the day’s proceedings should be as usual, but that the men
should hold themselves in readiness. Many of the border chiefs
afterwards sent notice to Merewether of what had been planned,
announcing their own disapproval of the conspiracy. At a given hour, the
leading conspirator was seized, and correspondence found upon him
tending to shew that the Bengal regiment having failed in other attempts
to seduce the Sinde troops from their allegiance, had determined to
murder the European officers as the chief obstacles to their scheme. The
authorities at Jacobabad wished Sir John Lawrence to take this Bengal
regiment off their hands; but the experienced chief in the Punjaub would
not have the dangerous present; he thought it less likely to mutiny
where it was than in a region nearer to Delhi.
The troops in the province of Sinde about the middle of August were
nearly as follows: At Kurachee—the 14th and 21st Bombay native infantry;
the 2d European infantry; the depôt of the 1st Bombay Fusiliers; and the
3d troop of horse artillery. At Hydrabad—the 13th Bombay native
infantry; and a company of the 4th battalion of artillery. At
Jacobabad—the 2d Sinde irregular horse; and the 6th Bengal irregular
cavalry. At Shikarpore and Sukur, the 16th Bombay native infantry; and a
company of the 4th battalion of artillery. The whole comprised about
five thousand native troops, and twelve hundred Europeans.
At a later period, when thanks were awarded by parliament to those who
had rendered good service in India, the name of Mr Frere, commissioner
for Sinde, was mentioned, as one who ‘has reconciled the people of that
province to British rule, and by his prudence and wisdom confirmed the
conquest which had been achieved by the gallant Napier. He was thereby
enabled to furnish aid wherever it was needed, at the same time
constantly maintaining the peace and order of the province.’
Notes.
This will be a suitable place in which to introduce two tabular
statements concerning the military condition of India at the
commencement of the mutiny. All the occurrences narrated hitherto
are those in which the authorities at Calcutta were compelled to
encounter difficulties without any reinforcements from England, the
time elapsed having been too short for the arrival of such
reinforcements.
_Military Divisions of India._—At the period of the outbreak, and
for some time afterwards, India was marked out for military purposes
into divisions, each under the command of a general, brigadier, or
other officer, responsible for all the troops, European and native,
within his division. The names and localities of these divisions are
here given; on the authority of a military map of India, engraved at
the Topographical Depôt under the direction of Captain Elphinstone
of the Royal Engineers, and published by the War Department. Each
division was regarded as belonging to, or under the control of, one
of the three presidencies. We shall therefore group them under the
names of the three presidential cities, and shall append a few words
to denote locality:
UNDER CALCUTTA GOVERNMENT.
Name. Limits.
_Presidency_ Calcutta and its vicinity, and the east and
Division, northeast of Bengal.
_Dinapoor_ Division, From the Nepaul frontier, southwest towards
Nagpoor.
_Cawnpore_ Division, Including Oude, the Lower Doab, and part of
Bundelcund.
_Saugor_ Division, On both sides of the Nerbudda river, south of
Bundelcund.
_Gwalior_ Division, Scindia’s Dominions, bordering on Rajpootana.
_Meerut_ Division, Rohilcund, from the Himalaya down to Agra and the
Jumna.
_Sirhind_ Division, The Cis-Sutlej and Hill states, northwest of
Delhi.
_Lahore_ Division, Eastern part of Punjaub, from Cashmere down to
Sinde.
_Peshawur_ Division, Western part of Punjaub, on the Afghan frontier.
UNDER BOMBAY GOVERNMENT.
_Sinde_ Division, On the Beloochee frontier, both sides of the Lower
Indus.
_Rajpootana_ East of Sinde, and west of Scindia’s Gwalior
Field-force, dominions.
_Northern_ Division, From Cutch nearly to Bombay, including Gujerat.
_Poonah_ Division, Around Bombay, and the South Mahratta country near
it.
_Southern_ Division, Southernmost part of the Bombay Presidency.
UNDER MADRAS GOVERNMENT.
_Nagpoor_ Subsidiary The recently acquired Nagpoor territory, near
Force, Nizam’s states.
_North_ Division, Northern part of Madras Presidency, on sea-coast.
_Centre_ Division, Madras city, and the coast-region north and south
of it.
_Ceded_ Districts, Northwest of Madras city, towards Bombay.
_Mysore_ Division, Seringapatam, and the country once belonging to
Tippoo Saib.
_Southern_ Division, Southernmost part of the Indian peninsula, towards
Ceylon.
It may be useful to remark that these military divisions are not
necessarily identical in area or boundaries with the political
provinces or collectorates, the two kinds of territorial limits
being based on different considerations.
* * * * *
_Armies of India, at the Commencement of the Mutiny._—During the
progress of the military operations, it was frequently wished in
England that materials were afforded for shewing the exact number of
troops in India when the troubles began. The Company, to respond to
this wish, caused an elaborate return to be prepared, from which a
few entries are here selected. The names and limits of the military
divisions correspond nearly, but not exactly, to those in the above
list.
BENGAL ARMY, MAY 10, 1857.
Military Divisions. Europeans. Natives. Total.
Presidency, 1,214 13,976 15,190
Dinapoor, 1,597 15,063 16,660
Cawnpore, 277 5,725 6,002
Oude, 993 11,319 12,312
Saugor, 327 10,627 10,954
Meerut, 3,096 18,357 21,453
Sirhind, 4,790 11,049 15,839
Lahore, 4,018 15,939 19,957
Peshawur, 4,613 15,916 20,529
Pegu, 1,763 692 2,455
—————— ——————— ———————
22,698 118,663 141,361
The Europeans in this list include all grades of officers as well as
rank and file; and among the officers are included those connected
with the native regiments. The natives, in like manner, include all
grades, from subadars down to sepoys and sowars. The Punjaub, it
will be seen, alone contained 40,000 troops. The troops were
stationed at 160 cantonments, garrisons, or other places. As shewing
gradations of rank, the Europeans comprised 2271 commissioned
officers, 1602 non-commissioned officers, and 18,815 rank and file;
the natives comprised 2325 commissioned officers, 5821
non-commissioned officers, and 110,517 rank and file. The stations
which contained the largest numbers were the following:
Peshawur, 9500
Lahore, 5300
Meerut, 5000
Lucknow, 5000
Jullundur, 4000
Dinapoor, 4000
Umballa, 3800
Cawnpore, 3700
Delhi, 3600
Barrackpore, 3500
Sealkote, 3500
Benares, 3200
Rawul Pindee, 3200
Bareilly, 3000
Moultan, 3000
Saugor, 2800
Agra, 2700
Nowsherab, 2600
Jelum, 2400
Allahabad, 2300
These 20 principal stations thus averaged 3800 troops each, or
nearly 80,000 altogether.
MADRAS ARMY, MAY 10, 1857.
Military Divisions. Europeans. Natives. Total.
Centre, 1,580 6,430 8,010
Mysore, 1,088 4,504 5,592
Malabar, 604 2,513 3,117
Northern, 215 6,169 6,384
Southern, 726 5,718 6,444
Ceded Districts, 135 2,519 2,654
South Mahratta, 16 375 391
Nagpoor, 369 3,505 3,874
Nizam’s, 1,322 5,027 6,349
Penang and Malacca, 49 2,113 2,162
Pegu, 2,880 10,154 13,034
—————— —————— ——————
10,194 49,737 59,931
This list was more fully made out than that for the Bengal army;
since it gave the numbers separately of the dragoons, light cavalry,
horse-artillery, foot-artillery, sappers and miners, European
infantry, native infantry, and veterans. The ratio of Europeans to
native troops was rather higher in the Madras army (about 20 per
cent.) than in that of Bengal (19 per cent.) More fully made out in
some particulars, it was less instructive in others; the Madras list
pointed out the location of all the detachments of each regiment,
whereas the Bengal list gave the actual numbers at each station,
without mentioning the particular regiments of which they were
composed. Hence the materials for comparison are not such as they
might have been had the lists been prepared on one uniform plan.
There were about 36 stations for these troops, but the places which
they occupied in small detachments raised the total to a much higher
number. Although Pegu is considered to belong to the Bengal
presidency, it was mostly served by Madras troops. Besides the
forces above enumerated, there were nearly 2000 Madras troops out of
India altogether, on service in Persia and China.
BOMBAY ARMY, MAY 10, 1857.
Military Divisions. Europeans. Natives. Total.
Bombay Garrison, 695 3,394 4,089
Southern, 283 5,108 5,391
Poonah, 1,838 6,817 8,655
Northern, 1,154 6,452 7,606
Asseerghur Fortress, 2 446 448
Sinde, 1,087 6,072 7,159
Rajpootana, 50 3,312 3,362
————— —————— ——————
5,109 31,601 36,710
The Bombay army was so dislocated at that period, by the departure
of nearly 14,000 troops to Persia and Aden, that the value of this
table for purposes of comparison becomes much lessened.
Nevertheless, it affords means of knowing how many troops were
actually in India at the time when their services were most needed.
On the other hand, about 5000 of the troops in the Bombay presidency
belonged to the Bengal and Madras armies. The different kinds of
troops were classified as in the Madras army. The regular military
stations where troops took up their head-quarters, were about 20 in
number; but the small stations where mere detachments were placed
nearly trebled this number. The Europeans were to the native troops
only as 16 to 100.
* * * * *
As a summary, then, we find that India contained, on the day when
the mutinies began, troops to the number of 238,002 in the service
of the Company, of whom 38,001 were Europeans, and 200,001
natives—19 Europeans to 100 natives. An opportunity will occur in a
future page for enumerating the regiments of which these three
armies were composed.
[Illustration:
Catholic Church, Sirdhana.—Built by Begum Sumroo (See p. 57).
]
-----
Footnote 30:
The events of the mutiny relating to the Punjaub have been ably set
forth in a series of papers in _Blackwood’s Magazine_, written by an
officer on the spot.
Footnote 31:
This column was made up as follows:
1. H.M. 27th foot, from Nowsherah.
2. H.M. 24th foot, from Rawul Pindee.
3. One troop European horse-artillery, from Peshawur.
4. One light field-battery, from Jelum.
5. The Guide Corps, from Murdan.
6. The 16th irregular cavalry, from Rawul Pindee.
7. The 1st Punjaub infantry, from Bunnoo.
8. The Kumaon battalion, from Rawul Pindee.
9. A wing of the 2d Punjaub cavalry, from Kohat.
10. A half company of Sappers, from Attock.
Footnote 32:
‘Very Dear and Good Mother—On the 8th of the present month the native
soldiers heard they were to be disarmed the following day. They became
furious, and secretly planned a revolt. They carried their plans into
execution at an early hour on the following morning. We were
immediately apprised of it, and I hastened to awake our poor children,
and all of us, half-clad, prayed for shelter at a Hindoo habitation.
Some vehicles had been prepared for us to escape, when the servants
desired us to conceal ourselves, as the sepoys were coming into the
garden. We returned to our hiding-place; the soldiers arrived; they
took away our carriages, and a shot was fired into the house where we
were concealed. The ball passed close to where our chaplain was
sitting, and slightly wounded a child in the leg. At the same moment
three soldiers, well armed, presented themselves at the door. The good
father, holding the holy sacrament, which he never quitted, advanced
to meet them. Several of us accompanied him. “We have orders to kill
you,” said the sepoys; “but we will spare you if you give us money. Go
out, all, that we may see there are no men concealed here.” Having
searched and found nothing, one of the soldiers raised his sabre over
the chaplain, and cried out: “You shall die.” “Mercy, in the name of
God!” exclaimed I. “I will open every press to shew you that there is
no money concealed here.” He followed me, and having satisfied himself
that there was no money, the soldiers went away. We then broke a hole
in the wall of our garden, and fled into the jungle. We had scarcely
escaped when thirty more sepoys entered the house; but the Almighty
preserved us from this danger. We were crossing the country, when a
faithful servant brought us to a house where several Europeans had
taken refuge. We breathed freely there for a moment, but the
government treasure was deposited there, and the house was soon
attacked by the mutinous sepoys. We believed that our last hour was at
hand; but the savages were too much occupied with pillage to notice
us, and the Europeans escaped. At this moment a Catholic soldier
offered to guide us to the fort, where we arrived at twelve o’clock.
We do not know how long we shall remain in the fort. The English
officers have treated us with the greatest kindness and attention, and
have supplied us with provisions both for ourselves and our pupils. We
trust we shall one day make our way to Bombay; but that will depend on
the orders we receive from the government.’
Footnote 33:
The brigadier’s confidence in his men was conditional on their
implicit obedience; and he was wont to affirm that his ‘Irregulars’
were as ‘regular’ in conduct and discipline as the Queen’s Life-guards
themselves. He would allow no religious scruples to interfere with
their military efficiency. On one occasion, during the _Mohurram_ or
Mohammedan religious festival in 1854, there was great uproar and
noise among ten thousand Mussulmans assembled in and near his camp of
Jacobabad to celebrate their religious festival. He issued a general
order: ‘The commanding officer has nothing to do with religious
ceremonies. All men may worship God as they please, and may act and
believe as they choose, in matters of religion; but no men have a
right to annoy their neighbours, or to neglect their duty, on pretence
of serving God. The officers and men of the Sinde Horse have the name
of, and are supposed to be, excellent soldiers, and not mad
fakeers.... He therefore now informs the Sinde Irregular Horse, that
in future no noisy processions, nor any disorderly display whatever,
under pretence of religion or anything else, shall ever be allowed in,
or in neighbourhood of, any camp of the Sinde Irregular Horse.’
[Illustration:
SIR COLIN CAMPBELL.
]
CHAPTER XIII.
PREPARATIONS: CALCUTTA AND LONDON.
Before entering on a narrative of the great military operations
connected with the siege of Delhi, and with Havelock’s brilliant advance
from Allahabad to Cawnpore and Lucknow, it will be necessary to glance
rapidly at the means adopted by the authorities to meet the difficulties
arising out of the mutiny—by the Indian government at Calcutta, and by
the imperial government in London. For, it must be remembered
that—however meritorious and indispensable may have been the services of
those who arrived in later months—the crisis had passed before a single
additional regiment from England reached the scene of action. There was,
as we have seen in the note appended to the preceding chapter, a certain
definite amount of European military force in India when the mutiny
began; there were also certain regiments of the Queen’s army known to be
at different spots in the region lying between the Cape of Good Hope on
the west and Singapore on the east; and it depended on the mode of
managing those materials whether India should or should not be lost to
the English. There will therefore be an advantage in tracing the manner
in which the Calcutta government brought into use the resources
immediately or proximately available; and the plans adopted by the home
government to increase those resources.
It is not intended in this place to discuss the numerous questions which
have arisen in connection with the moral and political condition of the
natives of India, or the relative fitness of different forms of
government for the development of their welfare. Certain matters only
will be treated, which immediately affected the proceedings of those
intrusted with this grave responsibility at so perilous a time. Three
such at once present themselves for notice, in relation to the Calcutta
government—namely, the military measures taken to confront the
mutineers; the judicial treatment meted out to them when conquered or
captured; and the precautions taken in reference to freedom of public
discussion on subjects likely to foster discontent.
First, in relation to military matters. England, by a singular
coincidence, was engaged in two Asiatic wars at the time when the Meerut
outbreak marked the commencement of a formidable mutiny. Or, more
strictly, one army was returning after the close of a war with Persia;
while another was going out to begin a war with China. It will ever
remain a problem of deep significance what would have become of our
Indian empire had not those warlike armaments, small as they were, been
on the Indian seas at the time. The responsible servants of the Company
in India did not fail to recognise the importance of this problem—as
will be seen from a brief notice of the plans laid during the earlier
weeks of the mutiny.
On the 13th of May, three days after the troubles began at Meerut, Mr
Colvin, lieutenant-governor of the Northwest Provinces, telegraphed to
Calcutta, suggesting that the returning force from Persia should be
ordered round to Calcutta, in order to be sent inland to strengthen the
few English regiments by which alone the Revolt could be put down. On
the next day, Viscount Canning, knowing that the Queen’s 43d foot and
the 1st Madras Fusiliers were at Madras, telegraphed orders for those
two regiments to be forwarded to Calcutta—seeing that the Bengal
presidency was more likely than that of Madras to be troubled by
mutinous sepoys. On the same day orders were sent to Pegu to bring the
depôt of the Queen’s 84th foot to Calcutta, the bulk of the regiment
being already in or near that city. On the 16th, a message was sent to
Lord Elphinstone at Bombay, requesting him to send round to Calcutta two
of the English regiments about to return from Persia; another message
was sent to Pegu, summoning every available soldier of the Queen’s 35th
foot from Rangoon and Moulmein; and orders were issued that all
government river-steamers and flats in India should be held ready for
army use. On the 17th, Lord Harris at Madras telegraphed to Canning,
recommending him to stop the army going to China under Lord Elgin and
General Ashburnham, and to render it immediately available for Indian
wants. It was on this day, too, that Sir John Lawrence announced his
intention of disarming the Bengal sepoys in the Punjaub, and of raising
new Punjaub regiments in their stead; and that Mr Frere, commissioner of
Sinde, was ordered by Lord Elphinstone to send the 1st Bombay Europeans
from Kurachee up the Indus to Moultan, and thence to Ferozpore. On the
18th, Canning telegraphed to Elphinstone, naming the two regiments—the
Queen’s 78th foot and the 2d Europeans—which were to be sent round to
Calcutta, together with artillery; on the same day Elphinstone
telegraphed to Canning that he would be able to send the Queen’s 64th as
well as 78th foot; and on the same day the authorities at Sinde arranged
for sending a Beloochee regiment up from Hydrabad to Ferozpore. On the
19th, the Madras Fusiliers started for Calcutta; and on the same day Sir
Henry Lawrence, to strengthen his military command in Oude, was raised
from the rank of colonel to that of brigadier-general. Without dwelling,
day by day, on the proceedings adopted, it will suffice to say that,
during the remaining period of May, the Madras Fusiliers, which were
destined to render such good service under the gallant Neill, arrived at
Calcutta; that the Queen’s 64th and 78th made their voyage from Bombay
to Calcutta; and that steamers were sent to Ceylon to bring as many
royal troops as could be spared from that island.
When June arrived, the same earnest endeavours were made to bring troops
to bear upon the plague-spots of mutiny. Orders were sent to transfer a
wing of the Queen’s 29th foot from Pegu, the 12th Lancers from Bombay,
and cavalry horses from Bushire and elsewhere, to Calcutta. Later in the
month, messages were transmitted to Madras, commanding the sending to
Calcutta of everything that had been prepared there for the service of
the expedition to China; such as tents, clothing, harness, and
necessaries; but it was at the same time known that the regiments on
that service available for India could be very few for a considerable
time to come—the only certain news being of the 5th Fusiliers, which
left Mauritius on the 23d of May, and the 90th foot, which left England
on the 18th of April. Towards the close of the month, an arrangement was
made for accepting the aid of an army of Nepaulese from Jung Bahadoor,
to advance from Khatmandoo through Goruckpore towards Oude—a matter on
which Lord Canning was much criticised, by those who thought the
arrangement ought to have been made earlier. As soon as news reached
Calcutta of the death of General Anson, Sir Patrick Grant,
commander-in-chief of the Madras army, was summoned from Madras to hold
the office of commander-in-chief of the army of Bengal, subject to
sanction from the home authorities. When he had accepted this
provisional appointment, and had arrived at Calcutta, Sir Patrick wrote
a ‘memorandum,’ expressing his views of his own position towards the
supreme government. It was to the effect that—seeing that there was in
fact no native army to rely upon; that the European army was very small;
and that this army had to operate on many different points, in portions
each under its own commandant—it would be better for the
commander-in-chief to remain for a while at Calcutta, than to move about
from station to station. If near the seat of government, he would be in
daily personal communication with the members of the supreme council; he
would learn their views in relation to the innumerable questions likely
to arise; and he would be in early receipt of the mass of intelligence
forwarded every day to Calcutta from all parts of India. On these
grounds, Sir Patrick proposed to make Calcutta his head-quarters. All
the members of the council—Canning, Dorin, Low, J. P. Grant, and
Peacock—assented at once to these views; the governor-general added: ‘I
am of opinion, however, that as soon as the course of events shall tend
to allay the general disquiet, and to shew to what points our force
should be mainly directed, with the view of crushing the heart of the
rebellion, it will be proper that his excellency should consider anew
the question of his movements.’
As it was difficult in those days of interrupted dâks and severed wires
to communicate intelligence between Calcutta and Lahore, the general
officers in the Punjaub and Sirhind made the best readjustment of
offices they could on hearing of Anson’s death; but when orders could be
given from Calcutta, Sir Henry Barnard, of the Sirhind division, was
made commander of the force against Delhi; General Penny, from Simla,
replaced General Hewett at Meerut; General Reid, of the Peshawur
division, became temporary commander in the west until other
arrangements could be made; and Brigadier Cotton was appointed to the
command at Peshawur, with Colonel Edwardes as commissioner. Later in the
month, when Henry Lawrence was hemmed in at Lucknow, Wheeler beleaguered
at Cawnpore, and Lloyd absorbed with the affairs of Dinapoor brigade,
commands were given to Neill and Havelock, the one from Madras and the
other from the Persian expedition; while Outram, who had been commander
of that expedition, also returned to assume an important post in India.
Several colonels of individual regiments received the appointment of
brigadier-general, in command of corps of two or more regiments; and in
that capacity became better known to the public than as simple
commandants of regiments.
When the month of July arrived, the British troops in India, though
lamentably few for the stern work to be done, were nevertheless
increasing in number; but it is doubtful whether, at the end of the
month, the number was as large as at the beginning; for many desperate
conflicts had taken place, which terribly thinned the European ranks.
The actual reinforcements which arrived at Calcutta during eight months,
irrespective of any plans laid in England arising out of news of the
mutiny, consisted of about twenty regiments, besides artillery. Some of
these had been on the way from England before the mutiny began; the 84th
foot arrived in March from Rangoon; none arrived in April; in May
arrived the 1st Madras Fusiliers; in June, the 35th, 37th, 64th, and
78th Queen’s regiments, together with artillery belonging to all the
three presidential armies; in July, the 5th Fusiliers, the 90th foot,
and a wing of the 29th; in August, the 59th foot, a military train, a
naval brigade from Hong Kong, and royal marines from the same place; in
September, the 23d Welsh Fusiliers, 93d Highlanders, four regiments of
Madras native infantry (5th, 17th, 27th, and 36th), and detachments of
artillery and engineers; in October, the 82d foot, the 48th Madras
native infantry, and recruits for the East India Company’s service—all
these, be it again remarked, were troops which reached Calcutta without
any reference to the plans laid by the home government to quell the
mutiny; those which came from England started before the news was known;
the rest came from Rangoon, Moulmein, Madras, Bombay, Ceylon, Mauritius,
Hong Kong, Cape of Good Hope, &c. A few observations may be made in
connection with the above list—that some of these regiments were native
Madras troops, on whom reliance was placed to fight manfully against the
Bengal sepoys; that some of the Madras companies advanced inland to
Bengal, without taking the sea-voyage to Calcutta; that no cavalry
whatever were included in the list; and that the list does not include
the regiments which advanced from Bombay or Kurachee towards the
disturbed districts.
Cavalry, just adverted to, was the arm of the service in which the
Indian government was throughout the year most deficient. During a long
period of peace the stud-establishments had been somewhat neglected; and
as a consequence, there were more soldiers able and willing to ride,
than horses ready to receive them. In the artillery and baggage
departments, also, the supply of horses was very deficient. When news of
this fact reached Australia, the colonists bestirred themselves to
ascertain how far they could assist in remedying the deficiency. The
whole of New South Wales was divided into eight districts, and
committees voluntarily undertook the duty of ascertaining how many
available horses fit for cavalry were obtainable in each district.
Colonel Robbins was sent from Calcutta to make purchases; and he was
enabled to obtain several hundred good strong horses at prices
satisfactory both to the stock-farmers and to the government. The good
effected by the committees consisted in bringing together the possible
sellers and the willing buyer.
By what means the troops, as they arrived at Calcutta from various
quarters, were despatched to the scene of action in the upper provinces,
and by what difficulties of every kind this duty was hampered—need not
be treated here; sufficient has been said on this subject in former
pages.
We pass to the second of the three subjects marked out, in reference to
the proceedings at Calcutta for notice—the arrangements for preventing
the mutiny of native troops, or for punishing those who had already
mutinied: a very important and anxious part of the governor-general’s
duty.
Unfortunately for all classes in India, there was a hostile feeling
towards the governor-general, entertained by many of the European
inhabitants unconnected with the Company; they accused him of favouring
the natives at the expense of the English. There was also a sentiment of
deep hatred excited against the natives, owing to the barbarous
atrocities perpetrated by the mutinous sepoys and the rabble budmashes
on the unfortunate persons at the various military and civil stations of
the Company during the course of the Revolt. There was at the same time
a certain jealousy existing between the military and civil officers in
India. These various feelings conspired to render the supreme government
at Calcutta, and especially Viscount Canning as its head, the butt for
incessant ridicule and the object of incessant vituperation. When the
mutiny was many months old, the Calcutta government gave a full reply to
insinuations which it would have been undignified to rebut at the time
when made, and which, indeed, would have fallen with little force on the
public mind while convulsed with passion at the unparalleled news from
India.
It was repeatedly urged upon the governor-general to proclaim martial
law wherever the Europeans found or fancied themselves in peril; to
encounter the natives with muskets and cannon instead of courts of
justice; and to adopt these summary proceedings all over India. In
reply, Viscount Canning states that this was actually done wherever it
was necessary, and as soon as it could answer any good purpose. Martial
law was proclaimed in the Delhi province in May; in the Meerut province
about the same time; in Rohilcund on the 28th of the same month; in the
Agra province in May and the early part of June; in the Ajmeer district
on the 12th of June; in Allahabad and Benares about the same date; in
Neemuch also at the same time; in the Patna district on the 30th of
June; and afterwards in Nagpoor. In the Punjaub and Oude, governed by
special regulations, it was not necessary that martial law should be
proclaimed, but the two Lawrences acted as if it was. Martial law, where
adopted, was made even more stringent than in European countries; for
there only military men take part in courts-martial; whereas in India,
the military officers at the disposal of the government being too few
for the performance of such duties at such a time, an act of the
Calcutta legislature was passed directly after the news from Meerut
arrived, authorising military officers to establish courts-martial for
the trial of mutineers and others, and empowering them to obtain the aid
at such courts, not only of the Company’s civil servants, but of
indigo-planters and other Europeans of intelligence and of independent
position. On the 30th of May, to meet the case of a rebellious populace
as well as a mutinous soldiery, another act was passed authorising all
the local executive governments to issue special commissions for the
summary trial of delinquents, with power of life and death in addition
to that of forfeiture of property—without any tedious reference to the
ordinary procedures of the law-courts. On the 6th of June a third act
was passed, intended to reach those who, without actually mutinying or
rebelling, should attempt to excite disaffection in the native army, or
should harbour persons guilty of that offence; general officers were
empowered to appoint courts-martial, and executive bodies to appoint
special commissions, to try all such offenders at once and on the spot,
and to inflict varying degrees of punishment according to the offence.
Some time afterwards a fourth act gave an extended application of these
stringent measures to India generally. In all these instances Europeans
were specially exempted from the operation of the statutes. The enormous
powers thus given were largely executed; and they were rendered still
more formidable by another statute, enabling police-officers to arrest
without warrant persons suspected of being mutineers or deserters, and
rendering zemindars punishable if they failed to give early information
of the presence of suspicious persons on their respective estates. ‘Not
only therefore,’ says the governor-general in council, ‘is it not the
case that martial law was not proclaimed in districts in which there was
a necessity for it; but the measures taken for the arrest, summary
trial, and punishment of heinous offenders of every class, civil as well
as military, were far more widely spread and certainly not less
stringent than any that could have resulted from martial law.’
The outcry against Viscount Canning became so excessively violent in
connection with two subjects, that the Court of Directors sought for
explanations from him thereon, superadded to the dispatches forwarded in
the regular course. The one referred to the state of Calcutta; the other
to the proceedings of special commissioners in the Allahabad district. A
petition was presented from about two hundred and fifty inhabitants of
Calcutta, praying that martial law should at once be proclaimed
throughout the whole of the Bengal presidency; on the ground that the
whole native population was in a disaffected state, that the native
police were as untrustworthy as the native soldiery, and that the
Company’s civil authorities were wholly unable to cope with an evil of
so great magnitude. The governor-general in council declined to accede
to this request. He urged in reply—that there was no evidence of the
native population of Bengal being in so disaffected a state as to render
martial law necessary; that such law had already been enforced in the
northwest provinces, where the mutineers were chiefly congregated; that
in Bengal the native police, aided by the European civilians, would
probably be strong enough to quell ordinary disturbances; that, as all
his European troops were wanted to confront the mutinous sepoys, he had
none to spare for ordinary police duties; and that in Calcutta
especially, where a zealous volunteer guard had been organised, the
peace might easily be preserved by ordinary watchfulness on the part of
the European inhabitants. This reply was in many quarters interpreted
into a declaration that the natives would be petted and favoured more
than the Europeans.
The second charge, as stated above, related to the proceedings in
the Allahabad district. When the power of appointing special
commissions for trying the natives was given, the civilians in that
region entered on the duty in a more stern manner than anywhere
else. In about forty days a hundred and seventy natives were tried,
of whom a hundred were put to death. When a detailed report of the
proceedings reached Calcutta, grave doubts were entertained whether
the offences generally were proportionate to the punishment. Many
persons had been put to death for having plundered property in their
possession, without being accused of having actually been engaged in
mutiny; some were put to death for obtaining by threats salary that
was not due to them from the revenue establishments; several others
for ‘robbing their masters,’ and some for ‘plundering salt;’ six
were condemned to death in one day for having in their possession
more rupees than they could or would account for. The question
forced itself on Lord Canning’s attention, whether such offences and
such punishments as these were intended to be met by the
extraordinary tribunals established in time of danger. The culprits
might have been and probably were rogues; but it did not follow that
they deserved death at the hands of civilians, irrespective of
military proceedings. The Calcutta authorities considered, from all
the information that reached them, that these large powers ‘had been
in some cases unjustly and recklessly used; that the indiscriminate
hanging, not only of persons of all shades of guilt, but of those
whose guilt was at the least very doubtful, and the general burning
and plunder of villages, whereby the innocent as well as the guilty,
without regard to age or sex, were indiscriminately punished, and in
some instances sacrificed,’ were unjustifiable. It further became
manifest that ‘the proceedings of the officers of government had
given colour to the rumour, which was industriously spread and
credulously received in all parts of the country, that the
government meditated a general bloody prosecution of Mohammedans and
Hindoos in revenge for the crimes of the sepoys, and only awaited
the arrival of European troops to put this design into execution.’
This led the governor-general to issue a resolution on the 31st of
July, containing detailed instructions for the guidance of civil
officers in the apprehension, trial, and punishment of natives
charged with or suspected of offences. This resolution was
interpreted by the opponents of Viscount Canning as a check upon all
the heroes who were fighting the battles of the British against the
mutinous natives; but it was afterwards clearly shewn that the
resolution applied, and was intended to apply, only to the civil
servants, among whom such vast powers were novel and often
susceptible of abuse; it did not cramp the energies of generals or
military commanders who might feel that martial law was necessary to
the successful performance of their duties. So obstructive, however,
was the bitter hostility felt in many quarters against the supreme
government at Calcutta, that it led to a ready belief in charges
which were afterwards shewn to be wholly untrue. When the Northwest
Provinces had fallen into such utter anarchy by the mutiny, that the
rule of the lieutenant-governor was little better than a name, a new
government was formed called the Central Provinces, comprising the
regions of Goruckpore, Benares, Allahabad, the Lower Doab,
Bundelcund, and Saugor, and placed under the lieutenant-governorship
of Mr Grant, who had until that time been one of the members of the
supreme council. A rumour reached London, and was there credited
three months before Viscount Canning knew aught concerning it, that
‘Mr Grant had liberated a hundred and fifty mutineers or rebels
placed in confinement by Brigadier-general Neill.’ As a consequence
of this rumour, it was often asserted in London that Mr Grant was
more friendly to the native mutineers than to the British soldiery.
Knowing the gross improbability of such a story, Viscount Canning at
once appealed to the best authority on the subject—Mr Grant himself.
It then appeared that the lieutenant-governor had never pardoned or
released a single person seized by Neill or any other military
authority; that he had never commuted or altered a single sentence
passed by such authorities; that he had never written to or even
seen Neill; that he had neither found fault with, nor commented
upon, any of that general’s proceedings—in short, the charge was an
unmitigated, unrelieved falsehood from beginning to end. As a mere
_canard_, the governor-general would not have noticed it; but the
calumny assumed historical importance when it affected public
opinion in England during a period of several months.
We now arrive at the third subject marked out—the attitude of the Indian
government towards the European population. It has been shewn in former
chapters that, when the mutinies began, addresses were presented from
various classes of persons at Calcutta, some expressing alarm, but all
declaratory of loyalty. Similar declarations were made at Madras and
Bombay—two cities of which we have said little, because they were
happily exempt from insurgent difficulties. A few lines will suffice to
shew the relation between these two cities and Calcutta, as seats of
presidential government. Madras is situated on the east coast, far down
towards Ceylon—perhaps the worst port in the world for the arrival and
departure of shipping, on account of the peculiar surf that rages near
the shore. Fort St George, the original settlement, is the nucleus
around which have collected the houses and buildings which now
constitute Madras. As Calcutta is called ‘Fort William’ in official
documents, so is Madras designated ‘Fort St George.’ The principal
streets out of the fort constitute ‘Black Town.’ Bombay, on the opposite
coast, boasts of a splendid harbour that often excites the envy of the
Madras inhabitants. The city is built on two or three islands, which are
so connected by causeways and other constructions as to enclose a
magnificent harbour. Nevertheless Madras has the larger population, the
numbers being seven hundred and twenty thousand against five hundred and
sixty thousand. So far as this Chronicle is concerned, both cities may
pass without further description. Each was a metropolis, in all that
concerned military, judicial, and civil proceedings; and each remained
in peace during the mutiny, chiefly owing to the native armies of Madras
and Bombay being formed of more manageable materials than that of
Bengal. Lord Harris at the one city, and Lord Elphinstone at the other,
received numerous declarations of loyalty from the natives; and were
enabled to render military service to the governor-general, rather than
seek aid from him.
In Calcutta, there was more difficulty than in Madras and Bombay. The
government had to defend itself against Europeans as well as natives. It
has already been stated that great hostility was shewn towards this
government by resident Europeans not belonging to the Company’s service.
On the one side, the Company was accused of regarding India as a golden
egg belonging to its own servants; on the other, the Company sometimes
complained that missionaries and newspapers encouraged disaffection
among the natives. This had been a standing quarrel long before the
mutiny broke out. As ministers of religion, missionaries of various
Christian denominations were allowed to pursue their labours, but
without direct encouragement. They naturally sympathised with the
natives; but, however pure may have been their motive, it must be
admitted that the missionaries often employed language that tended to
place the Company and the natives in the antagonistic position of the
injurers and the injured. In September 1856 certain missionaries in the
Bengal presidency presented a memorial, setting forth in strong terms
the deplorable social condition of the natives—enumerating a series of
abuses and defects in the Indian government; and recommending the
appointment of a commission of inquiry, to comprise men of independent
minds, unbiassed by official or local prejudices. The alleged abuses
bore relation to the police and judicial systems, gang-robberies,
disputes about unsettled boundaries, the use of torture to extort
confession, the zemindary system, and many others. The memorialists
asserted that if remedies were not speedily applied to those abuses, the
result would be disastrous, as ‘the discontent of the rural population
is daily increasing, and a bitter feeling of hatred towards their rulers
is being engendered in their minds.’ Mr Halliday, lieutenant-governor of
Bengal, in reply to the memorial, pointed out the singular omission of
the missionaries to make any even the most brief mention of the numerous
measures undertaken by the government to remove the very evils
complained of; thereby exhibiting a one-sided tendency inimical to the
ends of justice. He declined to accede to the appointment of a
commission on these grounds: That without denying the existence of great
social evils, ‘the government is in possession of full information
regarding them; that measures are under consideration, or in actual
progress, for applying remedies to such of them as are remediable by the
direct executive or legislative action of the government; while the cure
of others must of necessity be left to the more tardy progress of
national advancement in the scale of civilisation and social
improvement.’ He expressed his ‘absolute dissent from the statement
made, doubtless in perfect good faith, that the people exhibit a spirit
of sullen discontent, on account of the miseries ascribed to them; and
that there exists amongst them that bitter hatred to the government
which has filled the memorialists, as they declare, with alarm as well
as sorrow.’ The British Indian Association, consisting of planters,
landed proprietors, and others, supported the petition for the
appointment of a commission, evidently with the view of fighting the
missionaries with their own weapons, by shewing that the missionaries
were exciting the natives to disaffection. Mr Halliday declined to rouse
up these elements of discord; Viscount Canning and the supreme council
supported him; and the Court of Directors approved of the course
pursued.
In the earlier weeks of the mutiny, or rather before the mutiny had
actually begun, the colonel of a regiment at Barrackpore, as has already
been shewn, brought censure upon himself by taking the duties of a
missionary or Christian religious teacher among his own troops. Whatever
judgment may be passed on this officer, or on those who condemned him,
it is at least important to bear in mind that, throughout the whole
duration of the mutiny and the battles consequent on it, one class of
theorists persisted in asserting that the well-meant exertions of pious
Christians had alarmed the prejudices of the native soldiers, and had
led to the Revolt. Right or wrong, this theory, and the line of conduct
that had led to it, greatly increased the embarrassments of the
governor-general, and rendered it impossible for him to pursue a line of
conduct that would please all parties.
Much more hostile, however, was the feeling raised against him in
relation to an important measure concerning newspapers—turning against
him the bitter pens of ready writers who resented any check placed upon
their licence of expression. On the 13th of June, the legislative
council of Calcutta, on the motion of the governor-general, passed an
act whereby the liberty of the press in India was restricted for one
year. The effect of this law was to replace the Indian press, for a
time, very much in the position it occupied before Sir Charles
Metcalfe’s government gave it liberty in 1835. Sir Thomas Munro and
other experienced persons had, long before this last-named date,
protested against any analogy between England and India, in reference to
the freedom of the press. Sir Thomas was connected with the Madras
government; but his observations were intended to apply to the whole of
British India. In 1822 he said: ‘I cannot view the question of a free
press in this country without feeling that the tenure by which we hold
our power never has been and never can be the liberties of the people.
Were the people all our own countrymen, I would prefer the utmost
freedom of the press; but as they are, nothing could be more dangerous
than such freedom. In place of spreading useful knowledge among the
people and tending to their better government, it would generate
insubordination, insurrection, and anarchy.... A free press and the
dominion of strangers are things which are incompatible, and which
cannot long exist together. For what is the first duty of a free press?
It is to deliver the country from a foreign yoke, and to sacrifice to
this one great object every meaner consideration; and if we make the
press really free to the natives as well as to Europeans, it must
inevitably lead to this result.’ Munro boldly, whether wisely or not,
adopted the theory of India being a conquered country, and of the
natives being more likely to write against than for their English
rulers, if allowed unfettered freedom of the press. He pointed out that
the restrictions on this freedom were really very few; extending only to
attacks on the character of government and its officers, and on the
religion of the natives. In reply to a suggestion that the native press
might be placed under restriction, without affecting the Indo-British
newspapers read by Europeans, he said: ‘We cannot have a monopoly of the
freedom of the press; we cannot confine it to Europeans only. There is
no device or contrivance by which this can be done.’ In fine, he
declared his opinion that if the native press were made free, ‘it must
in time produce nearly the same consequences here which it does
everywhere else; it must spread among the people the principles of
liberty, and stimulate them to expel the strangers who rule over them,
and to establish a national government.’ When the liberty of the press
was made free and full in 1835, the Court of Directors severely censured
Sir Charles Metcalfe’s government for having taken that step without
permission from London, and directed that the subject should be
reconsidered; but Lord Auckland, who succeeded Sir Charles as
governor-general, pointed out what appeared to him the difficulty of
rescinding the liberty when once granted; and the directors yielded,
though very unwillingly. The minute, in which the alteration of the law
was made in 1835, was from the pen of Mr (afterwards Lord) Macaulay; but
this eminent person at the same time admitted that the governor-general
had, and ought to have, a power suddenly to check this liberty of the
press in perilous times. The members of the supreme council at Calcutta,
in their minutes on this subject, asserted the power and right of the
government to use the check in periods of exigency.
[Illustration:
General View of MADRAS.—From a Drawing by Thomas Daniell.
]
Viscount Canning, conceiving that all his predecessors had recognised
the possible necessity of curbing the liberty of the press, considered
whether the exigency for so doing had arrived. He found that it would be
of little use to control the native press unless that of the English
were controlled also; because he wished to avoid invidious distinctions;
and because some of the newspapers, though printed in the English
language, were written, owned, and published by natives, almost
exclusively for circulation among native readers. The natives, it was
found, were in the habit of procuring English newspapers, not only those
published in India, but others published in England, and of causing the
political news relating to their own country to be translated and read
to them. This might not be amiss if the government were made responsible
for such articles only as emanated from it; but the natives were often
greatly alarmed at articles and speeches directed against them, or
against their usages and religion, in the Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay
newspapers—not by the government, but by individual writers. The
newspaper press in India, whether English or native, has generally been
distinguished by great violence in the mode of opposing the government;
this violence, in times of peace, was disregarded by those against whom
it was directed; but at a time when a hundred thousand native troops
were more or less in mutiny, and when Mohammedan leaders were
endeavouring to enlarge this military revolt into a national rebellion,
Viscount Canning and his colleagues deemed it right to place a
restriction on the liberty of the press, during the disturbed state of
India.
[Illustration:
BOMBAY.—From a View in the Library of the East India Company.
]
Very little has hitherto been known in England concerning the native
newspapers of India; for few except the Company’s servants have come in
contact with them. Their number is considerable, but the copies printed
of each are exceedingly limited. In the Agra government alone, a few
years ago, there were thirty-four native papers, of which the aggregate
circulation did not reach _two thousand_, or less than sixty each on an
average. Some appeared weekly, some twice a week. Some were printed in
Persian, others in Oordoo, others in Hindee. About twenty more were
published in various towns in the northwest regions of India. A few were
sensible, many more trivial, but nearly all abusive of the government.
As estimated by an English standard, the extremely small circulation
would have rendered them wholly innocuous; but such was not the case in
the actual state of affairs. The miserably written and badly
lithographed little sheets of news had, each, its group of men seated
round a fluent reader, and listening to the contents; one single copy
sufficed for a whole regiment of sepoys; and it was observed, during a
year or two before the Revolt, that the sepoys listened with unwonted
eagerness to the reading of articles grossly vituperative of the
government. The postal reform, effected by the Marquis of Dalhousie,
exceeding in liberality even that of England itself, is believed to have
led to an unexpected evil connected with the dissemination of seditious
intelligence in India. To save expense, he placed natives instead of
Europeans in most of the offices connected with this service; and it
appears probable, from facts elicited during the mutiny, that Hindoo and
Mohammedan postmasters were far too well acquainted with the substance
of many of the letters which passed through their hands.
It may be well here to state that Lord Harris, governor of the
presidency of Madras, dwelt on the unfair tone of the British press in
India, before the actual commencement of the mutiny at Meerut. On the 2d
of May he made a minute commencing thus: ‘I have now been three years in
India, and during that period have made a point of keeping myself
acquainted with the tenor of the larger portion of the British press,
throughout the country; and I have no hesitation in asserting my
impression to be that it is, more particularly in this presidency,
disloyal in tone, un-English in spirit, and wanting in principle—seeking
every opportunity, whether rightly or wrongly, of holding up the
government to opprobrium.’ He denied that any analogy could be furnished
from the harmlessness of such attacks in the home country; because, in
England, ‘every man is certain of having an opportunity of bringing his
case before the public, either by means of rival newspapers or in
parliament.’ This facility is not afforded in India; and thus the
newspaper articles are left to work their effects uncompensated. ‘I do
not see how it is possible for the natives, in the towns more
especially, with the accusations, misrepresentations, and calumnies
which are constantly brought before them, to come to any other
conclusion than that the government of their country is carried on by
imbecile and dishonest men.’
The legislative statute of the 13th of June may be described in a few
words. All printing-presses, types, and printing-machinery throughout
British India were, by virtue of this act, to be registered, and not
used without licence from the government. Magistrates were empowered to
order a search of suspected buildings, and a seizure of all unregistered
printing-apparatus and printed paper found therein. All applications for
a printing-licence were to be made on oath of the proprietor, with full
particulars on certain specified matters. The licence might be refused
or granted; and, if granted, might be at any time revoked. A copy of
every paper, sheet, or book was required to be sent to the authorities,
immediately on being printed. The government, by notice in the
government gazette, might prohibit the publication of the whole or any
part of any book or paper, either in the whole or any part of India; and
this was equally applicable whether the book or paper were printed in
India or any other country. The penalty—for using unlicensed
printing-machinery, or for publishing in defiance of a gazette order—was
a fine of 5000 rupees (£500), or two years’ imprisonment, or both. This
punishment was so rigorous, that the instances were very few in which
the press disobeyed the new law; it produced great exasperation in some
quarters; but the proprietors of newspapers generally placed such a
check upon editors and writers as to prevent the insertion of such
articles as would induce the government to withdraw the
printing-licence.
So alien are such restrictions to the genius of the English people, that
nothing but dire necessity could have driven the Calcutta government to
make them. They must be judged by an Indian, not an English standard. It
is well to remark, however, as shewing the connection of events, that
this statute was one cause of the violent attacks made against Lord
Canning in London; the freedom, checked in India, appeared in stronger
form than ever when several of the writers came over to England, or sent
for printing in England books or pamphlets written in India. When one of
these editors arrived in London, he brought with him a petition or
memorial, signed by some of the Europeans at Calcutta not connected with
the government, praying for the removal of Viscount Canning from the
office held by him.
Having thus passed in review three courses of proceeding adopted by the
Indian government consequent on the outbreak—in reference to military
operations, to judicial punishments, and to public opinion—we will now
notice in a similarly rapid way the line of policy adopted by the home
government to stem the mutiny, and by the British nation to succour
those who had suffered or were suffering by it.
It was on the 27th of June that the government, the parliament, and the
people of England were startled with the news that five or six native
regiments had revolted at Meerut and Delhi, and that the ancient seat of
the Mogul Empire was in the hands of mutineers and rebels. During some
weeks previously, observations had occasionally been made in parliament,
relating to the cartridge troubles at Barrackpore and Berhampore; but
the ministers always averred that those troubles were slight in
character. The Earl of Ellenborough, who had been governor-general from
1842 to 1844, and who possessed extensive knowledge of Indian affairs
generally, had also drawn attention occasionally to the state of the
Indian armies. While India was in commotion, but six or seven weeks
before England was aware of that fact, the earl asked the ministers (on
May 19th) what arrangements had been made for reinforcing the British
army in India. Lord Panmure, as war-minister, replied that certain
regiments intended for India had been diverted from that service and
sent to China; but that four other regiments would be ready to depart
from England about the middle of June, to relieve regiments long
stationed in the East Indies; irrespective of four thousand recruits for
the Company’s service. On the 9th of June Lord Ellenborough expressed
suspicions that a mutinous feeling was being engendered among the
sepoys, by a fear on their part that their religion was about to be
tampered with; this expression of opinion led to various counter-views
in both Houses of parliament.
Two or three paragraphs may here be usefully given, to shew to how great
an extent the number and distribution of European troops in India had
been a subject of consideration among the governing authorities, both at
Calcutta and in London. Towards the close of 1848 the Marquis of
Dalhousie drew attention to the propriety, or even necessity, of
increasing the European element in the Indian armies; and, to this end,
he suggested that an application should be made to the crown for three
additional regiments of the royal army. This was attended to; three
regiments being promptly sent. In March 1849, consequent on the
operations in the Punjaub, application was made for two more Queen’s
regiments; which was in like manner quickly responded to. All these
additions, be it observed, were to be fully paid for by the Company.
These five regiments, despatched during the early months of 1849,
comprised 220 commissioned officers, and 5335 non-commissioned, rank and
file. In 1853, after the annexation of Pegu, the marquis wrote home to
announce that that newly-acquired province could not be securely held
with a less force than three European regiments, eight native regiments,
and a proportionate park of artillery; and he asked: ‘Whence is this
force to be derived?’ The British empire in India was growing; the
European military element, he urged, must grow with it; and he demanded
three new regiments from England to occupy Pegu, seeing that those
already in India were required in the older provinces and presidencies.
There were at that time five regiments of European cavalry in India, all
belonging to the Queen’s army; and thirty regiments of European
infantry, of which twenty-four were Queen’s, and the remaining six
belonging to the Company. As the crown retained the power of drawing
away the royal regiments from India at any time of emergency, the
marquis deemed it prudent that the three additional regiments required
should belong to the Company, one to each presidential army, and not to
the royal forces. The Company, by virtue of the act passed that year
(1853), obtained permission to increase the number of European troops
belonging absolutely to it in India; and, that permission being
obtained, three additional regiments were planned in the year, to
comprise about 2760 officers and men. Only two out of the three,
however, were really organised. When the war with Russia broke out in
1854, a sudden demand was made for the services of several of the
Queen’s regiments in India—namely, the 22d, 25th, 96th, and 98th foot,
and the 10th Hussars; at the same time, as only the 27th and 35th foot
were ordered out to India, the royal troops at the disposal of the
governor-general were lessened by three regiments. This step the Marquis
of Dalhousie, and his colleagues at Calcutta, most earnestly deprecated.
A promise was made that two more regiments, the 82d and 90th foot,
should be sent out early in 1855; but the marquis objected to the
weakening of the Indian army even by a single English soldier. In a long
dispatch, he dwelt upon the insufficiency of this army for the
constantly increasing area of the British army in India. The European
army in India, the Queen’s and the Company’s together, was in effect
only two battalions stronger in September 1854 than it had been in
January 1847; although in that interval of nearly eight years the
Punjaub, Pegu, and Nagpoor, had been added to British India. The army
was so scattered over this immense area, that there was only one
European battalion between Calcutta and Agra, a distance of nearly eight
hundred miles. The marquis earnestly entreated the imperial government
not to lessen his number, already too small, of European troops—not only
because the area to be defended had greatly increased; but because many
of the princes of India were at that time looking with a strange
interest at the war with Russia, as if ready to side with the stronger
power, whichever that might be. There were symptoms of this kind in
Pegu, in Nepaul, and elsewhere, which he thought ought not to be
disregarded. No document penned by the marquis throughout his eight
years’ career in India was more energetic, distinct, or positive than
this; he protested respectfully but earnestly against any further
weakening of the European element in his forces. The home government,
however, had engaged in a war with a great power which needed all its
resources; the withdrawal of the regiments was insisted on; and the
governor-general was forced to yield.
The year 1855 presented nothing worthy of comment in relation to the
Indian armies; but in February 1856, just on surrendering the reins of
government to Viscount Canning, the Marquis of Dalhousie drew up a
minute bearing on this subject. At that time, fifteen months before the
commencement of the mutiny at Meerut, there were thirty-three regiments
of European infantry in India.[34] The marquis sketched a plan for so
redistributing the forces as to provide for the principal stations
during peace, and also for a field-army in case of outbreak in Cabool,
Cashmere, Nepaul, Ava, or other adjacent states; he required two
additional regiments to effect this, and shewed how the whole
thirty-five might most usefully be apportioned between the three
presidencies.[35] He suggested that this number of 24 Queen’s regiments
of foot should be a _minimum_, not at any time reducible by the imperial
government without consent of the Indian authorities; he remembered the
Crimean war, and dreaded the consequence of any possible future war in
depriving India of royal troops. These were suggestions, made by the
Marquis of Dalhousie when about to leave India; they possessed no other
authority than as suggestions, and do not appear to have been taken
officially into consideration until the mutiny threw everything into
confusion. During the later months of 1856, Viscount Canning, the new
governor-general, drew the attention of the Court of Directors to the
fact that the English officers in the native regiments had become far
too few in number; some were appointed to irregular corps, others to
civil duties, until at length the regiments were left very much
under-officered. As a means of partially meeting this want, the
directors authorised in September that every regular native infantry or
cavalry regiment should have two additional officers, one captain and
one lieutenant; and that each European regiment in the Company’s service
should have double this amount of addition. In the same month it was
announced by the military authorities in London that the two royal
regiments, 25th and 89th, _borrowed_ from India for the Russian war in
1854, should be replaced by two others early in 1857; and that at the
same time two additional regiments of Queen’s foot should be sent out,
to relieve the 10th and 29th, which had been in India ever since 1842.
The year of the mutiny, 1857, witnessed the completion of the military
arrangement planned in 1856, and the organisation of others arising out
of the complicated state of affairs in Persia, China, and India. About
the middle of February, the second division of the army intended for the
Persian expedition left Bombay, making, with the first division, a force
of about 12,000 men under the command of Sir James Outram. About 4000 of
that number were European troops.[36] Viscount Canning, speculating on
the probability that a third division would be needed, pointed out that
India could not possibly supply it; and that it would be necessary that
the home government should send out, not only the four regiments already
agreed on, but three others in addition, and that the 10th and 29th
regiments should not return to Europe so early as had been planned.
There was another complication, arising out of the Chinese war; the 82d
and 90th foot, intended to replace the two regiments withdrawn from
India during the Crimean war, were now despatched to the Chinese seas
instead of to India; and the directors had to make application for two
others. Early in May, before any troubles in India were known to the
authorities in London, it was arranged that the plan of 1856 should be
renewed—two Queen’s regiments to be sent out to replace those withdrawn
for the Crimean war; and two others to relieve the 10th and
29th—bringing the royal infantry in India to the usual number of
twenty-four regiments. Of these four regiments, two were to proceed to
Calcutta, one to Madras, and one to Kurachee. They were to consist of
the 7th Fusiliers, the 88th and 90th foot, and the 3d battalion of the
Rifle Brigade. It was also planned that the 2d and 3d Dragoons should go
out to India to relieve the 9th Lancers and 14th Dragoons. Furthermore,
it was arranged that these six regiments should take their departure
from England in June and July, so as to arrive in India at a favourable
season of the year; and that with them should go out drafts from
Chatham, in number sufficient to complete the regiments already in India
up to their regular established strength. So far as concerned Persia,
the proposed third division was not necessary; the Shah assented to
terms which—fortunately for British India—not only rendered this
increased force unnecessary, but set free the two divisions already
sent.
Such was the state of the European element in the Indian army at, and
some time before, the commencement of the mutiny. It was on the 27th of
June, we have said, that the bad news from Meerut reached London. Two
days afterwards, the Court of Directors ordered officers at home on
furlough or sick-leave to return to their regiments forthwith, so far as
health would permit. They also made a requisition to the government for
four full regiments of infantry, in addition to those already decided
on; to be returned, or replaced by other four, when the mutiny should be
ended. On the 1st of July—shewing thereby the importance attached to the
subject—the government announced, not only its acquiescence in the
demand, but the numbers or designations of the regiments marked
out—namely, the 19th, 38th, and 79th foot, and the 1st battalion of the
1st foot. It was also agreed to that the four regiments intended to have
been relieved—namely, the 10th and 29th foot, and the 9th and 14th
Dragoons—should _not_ be relieved at present, but that, on the contrary,
drafts should go out to reinforce them. Another mail arrived, making
known further disasters; whereupon the directors on the 14th of July
made another application to government for _six_ more regiments of
infantry, and eight companies of royal artillery—the artillerymen to be
sent out from England, the horses from the Cape of Good Hope, and the
guns and ammunition to be provided in India itself. Two days
afterwards—so urgent did the necessity appear—the government named the
six regiments which should be sent out in compliance with this
requisition—namely, the 20th, 34th, 42d, 54th, and 97th foot, and the 2d
battalion of the Rifle Brigade; together with two troops of
horse-artillery, and six companies of royal (foot) artillery.
Summing up all these arrangements, therefore, we find the following
result: Two regiments of royal infantry—7th Fusiliers and 88th foot—were
to go to India, to replace two borrowed or withdrawn from the Company in
1854; two others—the 90th foot and the 3d battalion of the Rifle
Brigade—to relieve the 10th and 29th foot, and two regiments of
cavalry—the 2d and 3d Dragoons—to relieve the 9th Lancers and 14th
Dragoons, but the four relieved regiments not to return till the mutiny
should be quelled; four regiments of infantry—the 19th, 38th, and 79th
foot, and the 1st battalion of the 1st foot—to go out in consequence of
the bad news received from India at the end of June; six regiments of
infantry—the 20th, 34th, 42d, 54th, 97th, and 2d battalion of the Rifle
Brigade—together with several troops and companies of artillery, were to
go out in consequence of the still more disastrous news received in the
middle of July; drafts were to go out to bring up to the full strength
the whole of the Queen’s regiments in India; and, lastly, recruits were
to go out, to bring up to the full complement the whole of the European
regiments belonging to the Company. These various augmentations to the
strength of armed Europeans in India amounted to little less than
twenty-four thousand men, all placed under orders by the middle of July.
Various discussions bearing on the military arrangements for India, took
place in the two houses of parliament. Lord Ellenborough frequently
recommended the embodiment of the militia and the calling out of the
yeomanry, in order that England might not be left defenceless by sending
a very strong royal army to India. The Earl of Hardwicke suggested that
all the troops at Aldershott camp, about sixteen thousand in number,
should at once be sent off to India. These, and other members of both
Houses, insisted on the perilous position of India; whereas the
ministers, in their speeches if not in their proceedings, treated the
mutiny as of no very serious importance. Differences of opinion existed
to a most remarkable extent; but the president of the Board of Control,
Mr Vernon Smith, subjected himself at a later period to very severe
criticism, on account of the boldness of the assertions made, or the
extent of the ignorance displayed, in the earlier stages of the mutiny.
When the news from Meerut and Delhi arrived, he said in the House of
Commons: ‘I hope that the House will not be carried away by any notion
that we exaggerate the danger because we have determined upon sending
out these troops. It is a measure of security alone with respect to the
danger to be apprehended. I cannot agree with the right honourable
gentleman (Mr Disraeli) that our Indian empire is imperiled by the
present disaster. I say that our Indian empire is _not_ imperiled; and I
hope that in a short time the disaster, dismal as it is, will be
effectually suppressed _by the force already in that country_....
Luckily the outrage has taken place at Delhi; because it is notorious
that that place _may be easily surrounded_; so that if we could not
reduce it by force, we could by famine.... Unfortunately, the mail left
on the 28th of May; and I cannot, therefore, apprise the House that the
fort of Delhi has been razed to the ground; but I hope that ample
retribution has by this time been inflicted on the mutineers.’ That
other persons, military as well as civil, felt the mutiny to be a wholly
unexpected phenomenon, is true; but this minister obviously erred by his
positive assertions; his idea of ‘easily surrounding’ a walled city
seven miles in circuit was preposterous; and there was displayed an
unpardonable ignorance of the state of the armies in that country in the
further assertion that ‘there are troops in India equal to _any_
emergency.’
A question of singular interest and of great importance arose—how should
the reinforcements of troops be sent to India? But before entering on
this, it will be well to notice the arrangements made for providing a
commander for them when they should reach their destination. As soon as
it was known in London, early in July, that General Anson was dead, the
government appointed Sir Colin Campbell as his successor. The
provisional appointment of Sir Patrick Grant as commander of the forces
in India was approved as a judicious step on the part of the Calcutta
government; but, rightly or wrongly, the permanent appointment to that
high office had come to be considered a ministerial privilege in London;
and thus Sir Colin was sent out to supersede Sir Patrick. Fortunately,
the general selected carried with him the trust and admiration of all
parties. For a time, it is true, there was a disposition to foster a
Campbell party and a Grant party among newspaper writers. One would
contend that Sir Colin, though a brave and good soldier, and without a
superior in command of a brigade, had nevertheless been without
opportunity of shewing those powers of combination necessary for the
suppression of a wide-spread mutiny, perhaps the reconquest of an
immense empire; whereas Sir Patrick was just the man for the occasion,
possessing the very experience, temper, and other qualities for dealing
with the native soldiers. On the other hand, it was contended that
Campbell was something more than a mere general of brigade, having
successfully commanded masses of troops equal in extent to armies during
the Punjaub war; whereas Grant, being by professional education and
military sympathies a Bengal officer—although afterwards commander at
Madras—had imbibed that general leaning towards the sepoys which
rendered such officers unfit to deal sternly with them in time of
disaffection. Happily, this controversy soon came to an end; Sir Colin
was pronounced by the public verdict to be the right man, without any
disparagement to Sir Patrick; and it was judiciously suggested by the
Earl of Ellenborough that the last-named general might, with great
advantage to the state, be made a military member of the supreme council
at Calcutta, to advise the governor-general on army and military
subjects. The nation recognised in Sir Colin the soldierly promptness
which had distinguished Wellington and Napier, and which he illustrated
in the following way: On the morning of Saturday the 11th of July, the
news of General Anson’s death reached London; at two o’clock on the same
day a cabinet council was held; immediately after the council an
interview took place between the minister of war and the commander of
the forces; consequent on this interview, Sir Colin Campbell was offered
the post of commander-in-chief in India; he accepted it; he was asked
how soon he could take his departure; his reply was ‘To-morrow;’ and,
true to his word, he left England on the Sunday evening—taking very
little with him but the clothes on his back. Men felt that there would
be no unnecessary amount of ‘circumlocution’ in the proceedings of such
a general—a veteran who had been an officer in the army forty-nine
years; and who, during that long period, had served in the Walcheren
expedition; then in the Peninsular battles and sieges of Vimieira,
Corunna, Barossa, Vitoria, San Sebastian, and Bidassoa; then in North
America; then in the West Indies; then in the first Chinese war; then in
the second Sikh war; and lastly in the Crimea.
Sir Colin Campbell, as a passenger remarkably free from luggage and
baggage of every kind, was able to take advantage of the quickest route
to India—by rail to Folkestone, steam to Boulogne, rail to Marseille,
steam to Alexandria, rail and other means to Suez, and thence steam to
Calcutta. Whether the troops could take advantage of this or any other
kind of _swift_ conveyance, was a question whereon public authorities
and public advisers soon found themselves at variance. There were four
projects—to proceed through France to Alexandria and Suez; to reach
Alexandria by sea from Southampton; to steam from England to Calcutta
round the Cape of Good Hope; and to take this last-named route by
sailing-ships instead of steamers. A few words may usefully be said on
each of these four plans.
As the overland route through France is the quickest, some advisers
urged that it would therefore be the best; but this was by no means a
necessary inference. It would require an immense amount of changing and
shifting. Thrice would the men of the various regiments have to enter
railway-trains—at London or some other English station, at Boulogne, and
at Alexandria—perhaps also a fourth time at Paris; thrice would they
have to leave railway-trains—at Folkestone, at Marseille, and at Cairo
or some other place in Egypt; thrice would they have to embark in
steamers—at Folkestone, at Marseille, and at Suez; and thrice would they
have to disembark—at Boulogne, at Alexandria, and at Calcutta. The
difficulties incidental to these many changes would be very great,
although of course not insuperable. There would, in addition, be
involved a delicate international question touching the passage of large
bodies of troops through the territories of another sovereign. The
Emperor of France, at a time of friendly alliance, would possibly have
given the requisite permission; but other considerations would also have
weight; and it is, on the whole, not surprising that the route through
France was left unattempted.
It does not follow, however, from difficulties in the French route, that
the sea-route to Alexandria would be unavailable; on the contrary, that
mode of transit found many advocates. The distance from Southampton to
Alexandria is about three thousand miles; and this distance could
obviously be traversed, in a number of days easy of estimate, by a
steamer requiring no transhipment of cargo. Another steamer would make
the voyage from Suez to Calcutta; and an overland passage through Egypt
would complete the route. This is a much shorter route to Calcutta than
that _viâ_ the Cape of Good Hope, in the ratio of about eight thousand
miles to twelve thousand; it is adopted for the heavy portion of the
India mail; and many persons thought it might well be adopted also for
the transmission of troops. The ministers in parliament, however,
explained their reasons for objecting to this route. These objections
referred principally to steamers and coal, of which there were no more
in the Indian seas than were necessary for the mail service. The matter
was argued thus: The first mail from England, after the news of the
mutiny, left on the 10th of July; it would reach Bombay about the 10th
of August; a return mail would start from Bombay on the 16th of August,
describing the arrangements made for receiving at Suez any troops sent
by the Egyptian route; that letter would reach London about the 16th of
September; and if troops were sent off immediately, with everything
prepared, they could not have reached India till towards the end of
October—four months after the receipt of the first disastrous news from
Meerut. A vessel by the Cape route, if sent off _at once_, would reach
as soon. This argument depended wholly on the assumption that it would
be necessary to spend three months in sending and receiving messages,
before the troops could safely be started off from Southampton to
Alexandria. Some of those who differed from the government on this point
admitted that only a small number of troops could be conveyed by this
route, owing to the unfinished state of the land-conveyance from
Alexandria to Suez.[37] The thirty miles of sandy desert to be
traversed, either by marching or in vehicles, would necessarily entail
much difficulty and confusion if the number of troops were large,
especially as neither the isthmus nor its railway belonged to England.
Then, again, there are questions concerning calms, storms, monsoons,
trade-winds, shoals, and coral reefs, which were warmly discussed by the
advocates of different systems; some of whom contended that the Red Sea
cannot safely be depended on by ship-loads of troops during the second
half of the year; while others argued that the dangers of the route are
very slight. On the one side, it was represented that, by adopting the
Suez route, there would be many changes in the modes of travel, many
sources of confusion wherever those changes were made, many
uncertainties whether there would be steamers ready at Suez, many doubts
about the supply of coal at Aden and elsewhere, many perils of wreck in
and near the Red Sea, much deterioration of health to the troops during
the hot weather in that region, and much embarrassment felt by Viscount
Canning if the troops came to him faster than he could transfer them up
the country. Certain of these government doubts were afterwards admitted
to be well founded; others were shewn to be erroneous; and though a few
regiments were sent by the Suez route later in the year, it became
pretty generally admitted, that if only one or two regiments had taken
that route _early in July_, the benefit to India would have been very
great, and the difficulties not more than might have been easily
conquered.
Next for consideration was the Cape route. Those who admitted that the
overland journey was suited only for a _small_ body of troops, and not
for an army of thirty thousand men, had yet to settle whether
sailing-ships or steamers were best fitted for this service. In some
quarters it was urged: ‘Employ our screw war-steamers; we are at peace
in Europe, and can send our soldiers quickly by this means to India,
without the expense of chartering steamers belonging to companies or
private persons. If sufficient bounties are offered, in one week we
could obtain seamen enough to man twenty war-steamers. Take the main
and lower-deck guns out of the ships; place fifteen hundred troops in
each of the large screw line-of-battle ships; and man each ship with
half the war complement, the soldiers themselves serving as marines.’
To this it was replied that line-of-battle ships would be dearer
rather than cheaper than chartered vessels, because they could not
lessen the charge by back-cargoes. Sir Charles Napier contended,
moreover, that screw war-steamers could not be fitted out as
troop-ships in less than three months after the order was given; and
that great difficulty would be found in raising men for them. The
government was influenced by these or similar considerations; for no
troops were sent out in war-vessels—possibly owing to a prudential
wish to keep all war-ships ready for warlike exigencies.
There remained, lastly, the question whether, the Cape route being
adopted, it would be better to hire steam-ships or sailing-ships for
conveying troops to India. Eager inquiries on this question were made in
parliament soon after the news of the outbreak arrived. The ministers,
in reference to the superiority of steamers over sailing-ships, stated
that, from the difficulty in procuring steamers of the requisite kind,
and the delay caused by the number of intermediate points at which they
would have to touch for coal, steamers would probably not reach the
Indian ports more quickly than sailing-ships. Lord Ellenborough admitted
that, when he was in India, sailing-vessels were found better than
steamers for India voyages in the autumnal half of the year; but this
left untouched the important improvements effected in steam-navigation
during the intervening period of fourteen years. The battle was much
contested. Sir Charles Wood, First Lord of the Admiralty, pointed out
that fast sailing-ships often went from England to Calcutta in 90 to 100
days; that auxiliary screws had been known to take from 90 to 120 days;
and therefore that we were not certain of quicker voyages by steam than
by sail, even (which was doubtful) if coal enough were procurable at the
Cape. This roused the advocates of steaming, who complained that the
minister had compared quick sailing-ships with slow steamers. Mr Lindsey
asserted that the average duration of twenty-two sail-voyages was 132
days; and that the steam-average would not exceed 94 days. Another
authority averred that the average of ninety-eight sail-voyages was 130
days; and that of seven screw-steam voyages, 93 days.
Such were a few of the points brought under consideration, in connection
with the schemes for sending troops to India. We mention them here,
because they bore intimately on the mutiny and its history. A compromise
between the various schemes was effected by the government, in this
way:—The ten thousand troops intended to be sent out, as reinforcements,
reliefs, and recruits, _before_ the news of the disasters reached
England, were despatched as originally intended, in ordinary
sailing-vessels; the four thousand additional troops, immediately
applied for by the Company, were despatched, half in screw-steamers, and
half in fast-sailing clippers; while the six thousand supplied on a
still later requisition were sent almost wholly in steamers. It was not
until late in the year, when the slowness of most of the voyages had
been made manifest, that the superiority of steaming became
unquestionable—provided the various coal-depôts could be kept well
supplied. Setting aside all further controversy as to the best mode of
transit, the activity of the movements was unquestionable. In May and
June few of the regiments and ships were ready, and therefore few only
were despatched; but after that the rapidity was something remarkable.
In July more than thirty troop-laden ships departed from our shores,
carrying numbers varying from 131 to 438 soldiers each. August was a
still more busy month, in relation both to the number of ships and the
average freight of each; there being forty troop-laden ships, carrying
from 208 to 1057 soldiers each. In July not a single steam-ship was
included in the number; but in August nearly half were steamers. The
most remarkable shipments were those in the _James Baines_ clipper
sailing-ship (1037 men of the 42d and 92d foot), the _Champion of the
Seas_ clipper (1032 men of the 42d and 20th foot) and the _Great
Britain_ screw-steamer (1057 men of the 8th Hussars and 17th Lancers).
In these three splendid ships the troops were conveyed with a degree of
comfort rarely if ever before attained in such service. While the
necessary arrangements were in progress for shipping off the twenty-four
thousand men chosen by the middle of July, other plans were being
organised for despatching further regiments; insomuch that, by the end
of the year, very nearly forty thousand men had been sent off to the
scene of mutiny. In what order and at what times these troops reached
their destination, may usefully be noted in a later page. Towards the
close of the year the Suez route was adopted for a few regiments; and
the rapidity of passage was such as to lead to much expression of regret
that that route had not been adopted earlier—although an opinion
continued to prevail on the part of the government and the Company that
it would not have been practicable to send the bulk of the army by that
means.
Another important question arose during the year, how these troops ought
to be clothed, and their health secured. English soldiers complain of
their tightly buttoned and buckled garments in hot weather, even in an
English climate; but in an Indian summer the oppression of such clothing
is very grievous; and much anxiety was manifested, when it became known
that thirty or forty thousand troops were to set out for the East, as to
the dress to be adopted. The War-office issued a memorandum on the
subject, chiefly with the view of allaying public anxiety;[38] but it
became afterwards known that, owing to blunders and accidents similar to
those which so disastrously affected the Crimean army, the light
clothing, even if sufficient in quantity, was not in the right place at
the right time; and our gallant men were only kept from complaining by
their excitement at the work to be done. It must at the same time be
admitted that, owing to the slowness of the voyages, the majority of the
reinforcements did not land in India till the intense heat of summer had
passed. In reference to the important question of the health of the
troops, Dr James Harrison, of the Company’s service, drew up a series of
rules or suggestions, for the use of officers in the management of their
troops. These rules, which received the approval of Sir Colin Campbell,
bore relation to the hours of marching; the length of each march; the
kind of beverage best for the soldier before starting; the
marching-dress in hot weather; the precautions against sitting or lying
in wet clothes; the necessity for bathing; the best choice of food and
the best mode of cooking; the stimulants and beverages, &c.
It would be difficult to enumerate all the modes in which the
government, the legislature, and the press, sought to meet the
difficulties and remedy the evils arising out of the Indian mutiny; nor
would such an enumeration be necessary, further than concerned the
really practicable and adopted measures. At a time when each mail from
India increased the sum-total of disastrous news, each grievance found
its own peculiar expositor, who insisted that _that_ particular
grievance had been the main cause of the mutiny, and that a remedy must
be found in that particular direction. Nevertheless, in a series of
short paragraphs to close the present chapter, it may be possible to
sketch the general character of the plans and thoughts that occupied the
public mind.
Railways were not forgotten. It was strongly urged that if Indian
railways had been begun earlier, and carried to a further stage towards
completion, the mutiny either could not have happened at all, or might
have been crushed easily by a small force having great powers of
locomotion. The disorders in India did not prevent the forwarding of
schemes for new lines of railway—such as the Sinde Railway, from
Kurachee to Hydrabad, there to be connected with steamers up the Indus
to Moultan; the Punjaub Railway, from Moultan to Lahore, there to join
the grand trunk railway; the Oude Railway, to supply Lucknow with a
series of lines radiating in various directions; and the East Bengal
Railway, to accommodate the region eastward of Calcutta. But besides
these, the mutiny gave a new impetus to schemes for carrying railways
across Western Asia towards India; either from Scutari (opposite
Constantinople) to Bagdad, or from Antioch to the Euphrates, with a
railway or a steam-route thence through Mesopotamia to the Persian Gulf.
Some parts of these schemes were very wild; the projectors, in every
case, required guaranteed interest from government, on the ground that
the particular railway advocated would form a new and quick route from
England to India available for government purposes; but as no guarantee
was forthcoming, the schemes remained in abeyance.
Electric telegraphs did not fail to occupy a portion of public favour;
and there is no question that their benefit was immense. Every lessening
of the time for transmitting a message from India to London, or _vice
versâ_, was so much gained to those responsible for quelling the mutiny.
In the middle of 1857, small portions of submarine cable were immersed
in the Mediterranean; but by the end of the year the islands of Corsica,
Sardinia, Malta, and Corfu were all connected, greatly shortening the
time for transmitting a telegram from Alexandria to Marseille.
Superadded to this, the usefulness of the telegraph encouraged the
projectors of new lines—from Corfu to Alexandria; from Antioch to the
Euphrates and the Persian Gulf; from Suez down the Red Sea to Aden and
Kurachee. Rival companies occupied much of the public attention; and,
had the British government been favourably disposed towards a guarantee
or subsidy, engineers were not wanting who would have undertaken to
connect London with Calcutta by an unbroken wire.
River-steaming was advocated as one of the great things needed for
India. One scheme was for an Indus flotilla. Supposing a hundred miles
of railway to be constructed from Kurachee to Hydrabad, then the Indus
would be reached at a point whence it is navigable to Moultan for five
hundred and seventy miles; and it was proposed for this service to
establish a flotilla of fifteen steamers, fitted up for passengers and a
little cargo, and each towing two flat-bottom barges for the conveyance
of troops and heavy cargo. Irrespective of the success or failure of any
particular project, the establishment of steamers on the Indus was
unquestionably a practical good to which India had a right to look
forward; for, as a glance at a map will shew, the Indus instead of the
Ganges seems the natural route of communication from Europe to the upper
provinces of India. The Ganges provinces also would undergo an immense
development of resources by the increase of steam-navigation on that
noble river.
Gun-boats for India did not fail to find advocates. It was deemed almost
a certainty that if light-draught vessels of this description had been
on two or three of the Indian rivers, especially the Ganges and the
Jumna, the mutineers would have met with formidable opponents; and even
if the mutiny were quelled, a few gun-boats might act as a cheap
substitute for a certain number of troops, in protecting places near the
banks of the great rivers. Impressed with this conviction, the East
India Company commissioned Messrs Rennie to build a small fleet of
high-pressure iron gun-boats; each to have one boiler, two engines, two
screw-propellers, and to carry a twelve-pounder gun amidships. The boats
were seventy-five feet long by twelve wide, and were so constructed as
to be stowed away in the hold of a ship for conveyance from England to
India.
The means of locomotion or communication—railways, electric telegraphs,
river-steamers, river gun-boats—formed only one portion of the schemes
which occupied public thought during the first six months of the mutiny.
Still more attention was paid to men—men for fighting in India and for
defending our home-coasts. Shortly before the bad news began to arrive
from India, a council order announced that the militia would _not_ be
called out in 1857; two months afterwards, in reply to a question in the
House of Commons, Viscount Palmerston would not admit that circumstances
were so serious as to necessitate a change in this arrangement; he
thought that recruiting would be cheaper than the militia, as a means of
keeping up the strength of the army. In August, however, the ministers
obtained an act of parliament empowering them to embody some of the
militia during the recess, if the state of public affairs should render
such a step necessary. A system of active recruiting commenced, and was
continued steadily during several months. These recruits were intended,
not to increase the number of regiments, but to add a second battalion
to many regiments, and to increase the number of men in each battalion;
some of the regiments were, by this twofold process, raised from 800 or
1000 to 2000 or 2400 men each. Volunteers, also, came forward from
France, Belgium, Germany, Italy, and other foreign countries; but these
were mostly adventurers who sought officers’ commissions in India, and
their services were not needed. The government made an attempt to
encourage enlisting by offering commissions in the army to any private
gentlemen who could bring forward a certain number of men each—a project
not attended with much success. At certain crises, when the news from
India was more than usually disastrous, appeals to patriotism shewed
themselves in the newspapers—‘A Young Englishman;’ ‘Another Young
Englishman;’ ‘A True Briton;’ ‘One of the Middle Class;’ or ‘A Young
Scotsman’—would write to the journals, pour out his patriotism or his
indignation, and shew what he would do if he only had the power. One
proposed that clerks and shopmen out of situations should be embodied
into a distinct volunteer corps; another said that, as he was a
gentleman, and wished to avenge the foul murder of innocent women and
children, he thought that he and such as he ought to be encouraged by
commissions in the Indian army; another suggested that, if government
would use them well, many young men would volunteer to serve in India,
to return to their former mode of life when the mutiny was over. Some,
rather in sarcasm than in earnest, suggested that drapers’ shopmen
should drop the yard-measure, and go to India to fight; leaving to women
the duty of serving muslins, and laces, and tapes. There was a certain
meaning in all the suggestions, as expressive of honest indignation at
the atrocities in India, especially those at Cawnpore; but, in its
practical result, volunteering fell to the ground; and even the militia
was not much appealed to. Various improvements were made in the
condition of the common soldier; and recruits for the regular army came
forward with much readiness.
We must now mention those who offered their monetary instead of their
personal services in alleviation of the difficulties experienced in our
Indian empire. Long before the mutinies in India had arrived at their
greatest height, the question was anxiously debated both in that country
and in England, what would be the worldly condition of the numerous
families driven from their homes and robbed of all they possessed by the
sepoys and marauders at the various stations? Every mail brought home
fresh confirmation of the fact that the number of families thus
impoverished was rapidly increasing; while on the other hand it was
known that the East India Company could not reimburse the sufferers
without much previous consideration. For, in the first place, it would
have to be considered whether any distinction ought to be made between
the two classes of Europeans in India—the civil and military servants of
the Company, and those who, independent of the Company, had embarked
capital in enterprises connected with indigo factories, opium farms,
banks, printing-presses, &c.; and then would come a second inquiry
whether the personal property only, or the commercial stock in trade
also, should be considered as under the protection of the government. It
was felt that immediate suffering ought not to wait for the solution of
these questions; that when families had been burnt out or driven out of
their homes, penniless and almost unclothed, immediate aid was needed
from some quarter or other. This was admitted in the Punjaub, where Sir
John Lawrence organised a fund for the relief of the necessitous; and it
was admitted at Calcutta, where Lord and Lady Canning headed a
subscription for providing shelter, raiment, and food to the hundreds of
terrified fugitives who were constantly flocking to that capital. By the
time the principal revolts of June were known in England, the last week
of August had arrived; and then commenced one of those wonderful efforts
in which London takes the lead of all the world—the collection of a
large sum of money in a short time to ameliorate the sufferings arising
out of some great calamity.
It was on the 25th of August that the lord-mayor presided at a meeting
at the Mansion House to establish a fund for the relief of the sufferers
by the Indian mutiny. The sum subscribed at the meeting did not much
exceed a thousand pounds; but the whole merits of the case being set
forth in newspapers, contributions poured in from all quarters, in the
same noble spirit as had been manifested during the Crimean disasters.
The high-born and the wealthy contributed large sums; the middle classes
rendered their aid; country committees and town committees organised
local subscriptions; large sums, made up of many small elements, were
raised as collections after sermons in the churches and chapels; and
when the Queen’s subjects in foreign and colonial regions heard of this
movement, they sought to shew that they too shared in the common English
feeling. Thousands swelled to tens of thousands, these to a hundred
thousand, until in the course of a few months the fund rose to three or
four hundred thousand pounds. In order to give system to the operations,
thirty-five thousand circulars were issued, by the central committee in
London, to all the authorities in church and state, to the ambassadors
and ministers at foreign courts, to the governors of British colonies,
and to the consuls at foreign ports.
This Mutiny Relief Fund was administered by four committees—General,
Financial, Relief, and Ladies’ Committees. The General Committee settled
the principles on which the fund was to be administered, determined the
amount and destinations of the remittances to India, and controlled the
proceedings of the subordinate committees. The Financial Committee
supervised the accounts, the investments of the money, and the
arrangement of remittances. The Relief Committee decided on applications
for relief, on the administration of relief by donation or by loan, and
on the application of means for the maintenance and education of
children. The Ladies’ Committee took charge of such details as pertained
more particularly to their own sex. Each of these committees met once a
week. The first remittance was a sum of £2000 to Calcutta, to relieve
some of the families who had been driven by the mutineers to seek
shelter in that city. This was followed by frequent large remittances to
the same place, and to Agra, Delhi, Lucknow, Bombay, and Lahore.
Committees, formed in Calcutta and Bombay, corresponded with the head
committee in London, and joined in carrying out plans for the
expenditure of the fund. The donations and loans to persons who had
arrived in England were small in amount; most of the aid being afforded
to those who had not been able to leave India. The money was put out at
interest as fast as the amount in hand exceeded the immediate
requirements. At one time the government made an offer to appoint a
royal commission for the administration of the fund; but this was
declined; and there has been no reason for thinking that the
transference of authority would have been beneficial. It was soon found
that there were five classes of sufferers who would greatly need
assistance from this fund—families of civil and military officers whose
bungalows and furniture had been destroyed at the stations; the families
of assistants, clerks, and other subordinate _employés_ at the stations;
European private traders and settlers, many of whom had been utterly
impoverished; many missionary families and educational establishments;
and the families of a large number of pensioners, overseers, artificers,
indigo-workers, schoolmasters, shopkeepers, hotel-keepers, newspaper
printers, &c. To apportion the amount of misery among these five classes
would be impossible; but the past chapters of this work have afforded
examples, sufficiently sad and numerous, of the mode in which all ranks
of Europeans in India were suddenly plunged into want and desolation. At
Agra, when the fort had been relieved from a long investment or siege by
the rebels, almost the entire Christian population was not only
houseless, but the majority were without the most essential articles of
furniture or clothing; nearly all were living in cellars and vaults. At
many other stations it was nearly as bad; at Lucknow it was still worse.
India speedily raised thirty thousand pounds on its own account,
irrespective of aid from England; and most of this was expended at
Calcutta in providing as follows: Board and lodging on arrival at
Calcutta for refugees without homes or friends to receive them; clothing
for refugees; monthly allowances for the support of families who were
not boarded and lodged out of the fund; loans for purchasing furniture,
clothing, &c.; free grants for similar purposes; passage and diet money
on board Ganges steamers; loans to officers and others to pay for the
passage of their families to England; free passage to England for the
widows and families of officers; and education of the children of
sufferers. These were nearly the same purposes as those to which the
larger English fund was applied. The East India Company adopted a wholly
distinct system in recognising the just claims of the officers more
immediately in its service, and of the widows and children of those who
fell during the mutiny—a system based on the established emoluments and
pensions of all in the Company’s service.
* * * * *
It will thus be seen that the news of the Indian Revolt, when it reached
London by successive mails, led to a remarkable and important series of
suggestions and plans—intended either to strengthen the hands of the
executive in dealing with the mutineers, or to succour those who had
been plunged into want by the crimes of which those mutineers were the
chief perpetrators.
Note.
At the end of the last chapter a table was given of the number of
troops, European and native, in all the military divisions of India,
on the day when the mutiny commenced at Meerut. It will be
convenient to present here a second tabulation on a wholly different
basis—giving the _designations_ of the regiments instead of the
_numbers_ of men, and naming the _stations_ instead of the
_divisions_ in which they were cantoned or barracked. This will be
useful for purposes of reference, in relation to the gradual
annihilation of the Bengal Hindustani army. The former table applied
to the 10th of May 1857; the present will apply to a date as near
this as the _East India Register_ will permit—namely, the 6th of
May; while the royal troops in India will be named according to the
_Army List_ for the 1st of May—a sufficiently near approximation for
the present purpose. A few possible sources of error may usefully be
pointed out. 1. Some or other of the India regiments were at all
times moving from station to station; and these movements may in a
few cases render it doubtful whether a particular corps had or had
not left a particular station on the day named. 2. The station named
is that of the head-quarters and the bulk of the regiment:
detachments may have been at other places. 3. The Persian and
Chinese wars disturbed the distribution of troops belonging to the
respective presidencies. 4. The disarming and disbanding at
Barrackpore and Berhampore are not taken into account; for they were
not known in London at the time of compiling the official list. 5.
The _Army List_, giving an enumeration of royal regiments in India,
did not always note correctly the actual stations at a particular
time. These sources of error, however, will not be considerable in
amount.
REGIMENTS AND STATIONS OF BENGAL ARMY—MAY 1857.
GENERAL ANSON, Commander-in-chief.
_European Cavalry._
6th Carabiniers (Queen’s), Meerut.
9th Lancers (Queen’s), Umballa.
_Native Regular Cavalry._
1st Regiment, Mhow.
2d Regiment, Cawnpore.
3d Regiment, Meerut.
4th Regiment, Umballa.
5th Regiment, Peshawur.
6th Regiment, Nowgong.
7th Regiment, Lucknow.
8th Regiment, Lahore.
9th Regiment, Sealkote.
10th Regiment, Ferozpore.
_Irregular and Local Cavalry._
1st Bengal Ir. C., Jelum.
2d Bengal Ir. C., Goordaspore.
3d Bengal Ir. C., Jhansi.
4th Bengal Ir. C., Hansi.
5th Bengal Ir. C., Sonthal.
6th Bengal Ir. C., Moultan.
7th Bengal Ir. C., Peshawur.
8th Bengal Ir. C., Sultanpore.
9th Bengal Ir. C., Hosheapore.
10th Bengal Ir. C., Goordaspore.
11th Bengal Ir. C., Berhampore.
12th Bengal Ir. C., Segowlie.
13th Bengal Ir. C., Bareilly,
14th Bengal Ir. C., Jhansi.
15th Bengal Ir. C., Oude.
16th Bengal Ir. C., Rawul Pindee.
17th Bengal Ir. C., Shumshabad.
18th Bengal Ir. C., Peshawur.
1st Gwalior Contingent Cavalry, Gwalior.
2d Gwalior Contingent Cavalry, Augur.
1st Punjaub Cavalry, Dera Ismael.
2d Punjaub Cavalry, Dera Ismael.
3d Punjaub Cavalry, Bunnoo.
4th Punjaub Cavalry, Kohat.
5th Punjaub Cavalry, Asnee.
1st Oude Irregular Cavalry, Secrora.
2d Oude Irregular Cavalry, Lucknow.
3d Oude Irregular Cavalry, Pertabghur.
Nagpoor Irregular Cavalry, Taklee.
_European Infantry._
8th Ft. (Qun.’s), Cawnpore.
10th Ft. (Qun.’s), Wuzeerabad.
24th Ft. (Qun.’s), Sealkote.
27th Ft. (Qun.’s), Sealkote.
29th Ft. (Qun.’s), Thayet Mhow.
32d Ft. (Qun.’s), Kussowlie.
35th Ft. (Qun.’s), Calcutta.
52d Ft. (Qun.’s), Lucknow.
53d Ft. (Qun.’s), Dugshai.
60th Ft. (Qun.’s), Jullundur.
61st Ft. (Qun.’s), Wuzeerabad.
70th Ft. (Qun.’s), Ferozpore.
75th Ft. (Qun.’s), Rawul Pindee.
81st Ft. (Qun.’s), Lahore.
87th Ft. (Qun.’s), Peshawur.
1st Europeans (East India Company’s), Dugshai.
2d Europeans (East India Company’s), Umballa.
3d Europeans (East India Company’s), Agra.
_Native Regular Infantry._
1st Regiment, Cawnpore.
2d[39] Regiment, Barrackpore.
3d Regiment, Phillour.
4th Regiment, Noorpore.
5th Regiment, Umballa.
6th Regiment, Allahabad.
7th Regiment, Dinapoor.
8th Regiment, Dinapoor.
9th Regiment, Allygurh.
10th Regiment, Futteghur.
11th Regiment, Allahabad.
12th Regiment, Nowgong and
Jhansi.
13th Regiment, Lucknow.
14th Regiment, Moultan.
15th Regiment, Meerut.
16th[39] Regiment, Meean Meer.
17th Regiment, Goruckpore.
18th Regiment, Bareilly.
19th Regiment, Berhampore.
20th Regiment, Meerut.
21st Regiment, Peshawur.
22d Regiment, Fyzabad.
23d Regiment, Mhow.
24th Regiment, Peshawur.
25th Regiment, Thayet Mhow.
26th Regiment, Meean Meer.
27th Regiment, Peshawur.
28th Regiment, Shahjehanpoor.
29th Regiment, Jullundur.
30th Regiment, Agra.
31st Regiment, Barrackpore.
32d Regiment, Sonthal.
33d Regiment, Hosheapore.
34th Regiment, Barrackpore.
35th Regiment, Sealkote.
36th[40] Regiment, Jullundur.
37th[40] Regiment, Benares.
38th[41] Regiment, Delhi.
39th[41] Regiment, Jelum.
40th[41] Regiment, Dinapoor.
41st Regiment, Seetapoor.
42d Regiment, Saugor.
43d Regiment, Barrackpore.
44th Regiment, Agra.
45th Regiment, Ferozpore.
46th Regiment, Sealkote.
47th[41] Regiment, Prome.
48th Regiment, Lucknow.
49th Regiment, Meean Meer.
50th Regiment, Nagode.
51st Regiment, Peshawur.
52d Regiment, Jubbulpoor.
53d Regiment, Cawnpore.
54th Regiment, Delhi.
55th Regiment, Nowsherah.
56th Regiment, Cawnpore.
57th Regiment, Ferozpore.
58th Regiment, Rawul Pindee.
59th Regiment, Umritsir.
60th Regiment, Umballa.
61st Regiment, Jullundur.
62d Regiment, Moultan.
63d Regiment, Barrackpore.
64th Regiment, Peshawur.
65th[41] Regiment, Dinapoor.
66th[42] Regiment, Almora.
67th[41] Regiment, {Etawah.
{Minpooree.
68th Regiment, Bareilly.
69th Regiment, Moultan.
70th Regiment, Barrackpore.
71st Regiment, Lucknow.
72d Regiment, Agra.
73d Regiment, Jumalpore.
74th Regiment, Cawnpore.
_Irregular and Local Infantry._
1st Oude Irregular Infantry, Persadpore.
2d Oude Irregular Infantry, Secrora.
3d Oude Irregular Infantry, Gonda.
4th Oude Irregular Infantry, Lucknow.
5th Oude Irregular Infantry, Durriabad.
6th Oude Irregular Infantry, Fyzabad.
7th Oude Irregular Infantry, Lucknow.
8th Oude Irregular Infantry, Sultanpore.
9th Oude Irregular Infantry, Seetapoor.
10th Oude Irregular Infantry, Mullaong.
1st Gwalior Contingent Infantry, Gwalior.
2d Gwalior Contingent Infantry, Gwalior.
3d Gwalior Contingent Infantry, Gwalior.
4th Gwalior Contingent Infantry, Gwalior.
5th Gwalior Contingent Infantry, Seepree.
6th Gwalior Contingent Infantry, Lullutpore.
7th Gwalior Contingent Infantry, Augur.
1st Punjaub Infantry, Kohat.
2d Punjaub Infantry, Kohat.
3d Punjaub Infantry, Kohat.
4th Punjaub Infantry, Dera Ghazi.
5th Punjaub Infantry, Bunnoo.
6th Punjaub Infantry, Dera Ismael.
1st Sikh Infantry, Hazara.
2d Sikh Infantry, Kangra.
3d Sikh Infantry, Khan.
4th Sikh Infantry, Umballa.
1st Nagpoor Irregular Infantry, Seetabuldee.
2d Nagpoor Irregular Infantry, Chandah.
3d Nagpoor Irregular Infantry, Raypoor.
Regiment of Guides (foot and horse), Peshawur.
Regiment of Kelat-i-Ghilzi, Shubkuddur.
Regiment of Loodianah (Sikhs), Benares.
Regiment of Ferozpore (Sikhs), Mirzapore.
Ramgurh Light Infantry, Dorunda.
Hill Rangers, Bhagulpore.
Nusserree Rifles, Simla.
Pegu Light Infantry, Myan Owng.
Sirmoor Rifles, Almora.
Kumaon Battalion, Deyra.
Assam Light Infantry, 1st, Debroogurh.
Assam Light Infantry, 2nd Gowhatti.
Mhairwarra Battalion, Bewar.
Aracan Battalion, Akyab.
Hurrianah Light Infantry, Hansi.
Silhet Light Infantry, Cherrah.
Malwah Bheel Corps, Sirdarpore.
Mewar Bheel Corps, Khairwarah.
Sebundee Corps, Darjeeling.
_Artillery, Engineers, Sappers and Miners._
Horse-artillery, 1st Brigade:
3 European Troops. }
2 Native Troops. } Head-quarters:
Horse-artillery, 2d Brigade: } Meerut.
3 European Troops. } Jullundur.
1 Native Troop. } Peshawur.
Horse-artillery, 3d Brigade: } Umballa.
3 European Troops. } Cawnpore.
1 Native Troop. } Sealkote.
Foot-artillery, 6 European Battalions. } Dumdum.
(4 Companies each.) }
Foot-artillery, 3 Native Battalions. }
(6 Companies each.) }
Engineers, } Head-quarters:
Sappers and Miners, 8 Companies, } Roorkee.
_Mixed Corps—Cavalry, Infantry, and Artillery._
Shekhawuttie Battalion, Midnapore.
Jhodpore Legion, Erinpoora.
Malwah Contingent, Mehidpore.
Bhopal Contingent, Sehore.
Kotah Contingent, Kurrowlee.
REGIMENTS AND STATIONS OF MADRAS ARMY—MAY 1857.
SIR PATRICK GRANT, Commander-in-chief.
_European Cavalry._
12th Lancers (Queen’s), Madras.
_Native Cavalry._
1st Madras Light Cavalry, Trichinopoly.
2d Madras Light Cavalry, Sholapore.
3d Madras Light Cavalry, Bangalore.
4th Madras Light Cavalry, Kamptee.
5th Madras Light Cavalry, Bellary.
6th Madras Light Cavalry, Jaulnah.
7th Madras Light Cavalry, Secunderabad.
8th Madras Light Cavalry, Bangalore.
_European Infantry._
74th Foot (Queen’s), Madras.
84th Foot (Queen’s), Burmah.[43]
1st Europeans (East India Company’s), [Persia].
2d Europeans (East India Company’s), Burmah.
3d Europeans (East India Company’s), Secunderabad.
_Native Infantry._
1st Regiment,[44] Secunderabad.
2d Regiment, Quilon.
3d Regiment, Cananore.
4th Regiment, Burmah.
5th[44] Regiment, Berhampore.
6th Regiment, Burmah.
7th Regiment, Moulmein.
8th Regiment, Rangoon.
9th Regiment, Samulcottah.
10th Regiment, Rangoon.
11th Regiment, Cananore.
12th Regiment, Madras.
13th Regiment, Moulmein.
14th Regiment, Singapore.
15th Regiment, Burmah.
16th[44] Regiment, Mangalore.
17th Regiment, Madras.
18th Regiment, Madras.
19th Regiment, Bangalore.
20th Regiment, French Rocks.
21st Regiment, Paulghaut.
22d Regiment, Secunderabad.
23d Regiment, Russelcondah.
24th[44] Regiment, Secunderabad.
25th Regiment, Trichinopoly.
26th[44] Regiment, Kamptee.
27th Regiment, Vellore.
28th Regiment, Hosungabad.
29th Regiment, Penang.
30th Regiment, Cuddapah.
31st Regiment, Vizianagram.
32d Regiment, Kamptee.
33d Regiment, Kamptee.
34th Regiment, Trichinopoly.
35th Regiment, Hurryhur.
36th[44] Regiment, Madras.
37th[45] Regiment, Burmah.
38th[44] Regiment, Singapore.
39th Regiment, Madras.
40th Regiment, Cuttack.
41st Regiment, Secunderabad.
42d Regiment, Secunderabad.
43d Regiment, Vizagapatam.
44th Regiment, Burmah.
45th Regiment, Rangoon.
46th Regiment, Henzana.
47th Regiment, Bellary.
48th Regiment, Moulmein.
49th[44] Regiment, Secunderabad.
50th Regiment, Bangalore.
51st Regiment, Pallamcottah.
52d Regiment, Mercara.
_Artillery, Engineers, Sappers and Miners._
Horse-artillery, 4 European Troops. }
Horse-artillery, 2 Native Troops. } Head-quarters:
Foot-artillery, 4 European Battalions, } St Thomas’s Mount,
(4 Companies each.) } Bangalore,
Foot-artillery, 1 Native Battalion. } Kamptee, Saugor,
(6 Companies.) } Secunderabad.
Engineers, Head-quarters: Fort St George.
Sappers and Miners, Head-quarters: Dowlaishweram.
REGIMENTS AND STATIONS OF BOMBAY ARMY—MAY 1857.
SIR HENRY SOMERSET, Commander-in-chief.
_European Cavalry._
14th Light Dragoons (Queen’s), Kirkee.
_Native Regular Cavalry._
1st Lancers, Nuseerabad.
2d Light Cavalry, Rajcote.
3d Light Cavalry, [Persia.]
_Native Irregular Cavalry._
1st Sinde Irregular Horse, Jacobabad.
2d Sinde Irregular Horse, Jacobabad.
Poonah Irregular Horse, [Persia.]
Gujerat Irregular Horse, Ahmedabad.
South Mahratta Irregular Horse, [Persia.]
Cutch Irregular Horse, Bhooj.
_European Infantry._
64th Foot (Queen’s), [Persia.]
78th Foot (Queen’s), Poonah.
86th Foot (Queen’s), Kurachee.
1st Fusiliers (East India Company’s), Kurachee.
2d Light Infantry (East India Company’s), [Persia.]
3d Light Infantry (East India Company’s), Poonah.
_Native Regular Infantry._
1st Regiment,[46] Baroda.
2d[46] Regiment, Ahmedabad.
3d Regiment, Sholapore.
4th[47] Regiment, [Persia.]
5th Regiment, Bombay.
6th Regiment, Poonah.
7th Regiment, Poonah.
8th Regiment, Baroda.
9th Regiment, Surat.
10th Regiment, Nuseerabad.
11th Regiment, Bombay.
12th Regiment, Deesa.
13th Regiment, Hydrabad.
14th Regiment, Kurachee.
15th Regiment, Bombay.
16th Regiment, Shikarpore.
17th Regiment, Bhooj.
18th Regiment, [Aden.]
19th Regiment, Mulligaum.
20th Regiment, [Persia]
21st Regiment, Neemuch.
22d Regiment, Satara.
23d Regiment, [Persia.]
24th Regiment, Ahmednuggur.
25th Regiment, Ahmedabad.
26th Regiment, [Persia.]
27th Regiment, Kolapore.
28th Regiment, Dharwar.
29th Regiment, Belgaum.
_Native Irregular Infantry._
1st Belooch Battalion, Kurachee.
2d Belooch Battalion, [Persia.]
Khandeish Bheel Corps, Dhurrungaum.
Rutnagherry Rangers, Rutnagherry.
Sawunt Waree Corps, Sawunt
Waree.
Satara Local Corps, Satara.
Kolapore Infantry Corps, Kolapore.
_Artillery, Engineers, Sappers and Miners._
Horse-artillery, 1 European Brigade. }
(4 Troops.)[48] } Head-quarters:
Foot-artillery, 2 European Battalions. } Bombay.
(4 Companies each.) } Ahmedabad.
Foot-artillery, 2 Native Battalions. } Ahmednuggur.
(6 Companies each.) }
Engineers, Head-quarters: Bombay,
Sappers and Miners, Head-quarters: Poonah and
Aden.
[Illustration:
Jumma Musjid, Agra.—Mosque built by Shah Jehan in 1656.
]
-----
Footnote 34:
┌───────────┬──────────┬──────────┬──────┐
│Presidency.│ Queen’s │Company’s │Total.│
│ │Regiments.│Regiments.│ │
├───────────┼──────────┼──────────┼──────┤
│Bengal, │ 16│ 3│ 19│
│Madras, │ 4│ 3│ 7│
│Bombay, │ 4│ 3│ 7│
├───────────┼──────────┼──────────┼──────┤
│ │ 24│ 9│ 33│
└───────────┴──────────┴──────────┴──────┘
Footnote 35:
┌───────────┬──────────┬──────────┬──────┐
│Presidency.│ Queen’s │Company’s │Total.│
│ │Regiments.│Regiments.│ │
├───────────┼──────────┼──────────┼──────┤
│Bengal, │ 15│ 4│ 19│
│Madras, │ 5│ 4│ 9│
│Bombay, │ 4│ 3│ 7│
├───────────┼──────────┼──────────┼──────┤
│ │ 24│ 11│ 35│
└───────────┴──────────┴──────────┴──────┘
Footnote 36:
_First Division_, under Major-general Stalker—
Natives, 3550
Europeans, 2270
————
5820
_Second Division_, under Brigadier-general Havelock—
Natives, 4370
Europeans, 1770
————
6140
Footnote 37:
In August 1857, of the whole railway distance marked out from
Alexandria through Cairo to Suez, 205 miles in length, about 175 miles
were finished—namely, from Alexandria to the crossing of the Nile, 65
miles; from the crossing of the Nile to Cairo, 65 miles; from Cairo
towards Suez, 45 miles. The remainder of the journey consisted of 30
miles of sandy desert, not at that time provided with a railway, but
traversed by omnibuses or vans.
Footnote 38:
‘According to existing regulations of some years’ standing, every
soldier on his arrival in India is provided with the following
articles of clothing, in addition to those which compose his kit in
this country:
‘Mounted Men.—4 white jackets, 6 pair of white overalls, 2 pair of
Settringee overalls, 6 shirts, 4 pair of cotton socks, 1 pair of white
braces.
‘Foot-soldiers.—4 white jackets, 1 pair of English summer trousers, 5
pair of white trousers, 5 white shirts, 2 check shirts, 1 pair of
white braces.
‘These articles are not supplied in this country, but form a part of
the soldier’s necessaries on his arrival in India, and are composed of
materials made on the spot, and best suited to the climate.
‘During his stay in India, China, Ceylon, and at other hot stations,
he is provided with a tunic and shell-jacket in alternate years; and
in the year in which the tunic is not issued, the difference in the
value of the two articles is paid to the soldier, to be expended (by
the officer commanding) for his benefit in any articles suited to the
climate of the station.
‘The force recently sent out to China and India has been provided with
white cotton helmet and forage-cap covers.
‘Any quantity of light clothing for troops can be procured on the spot
in India at the shortest notice.’
Footnote 39:
Grenadiers.
Footnote 40:
Volunteers.
Footnote 41:
Volunteers.
Footnote 42:
Goorkhas.
Footnote 43:
Removed to Calcutta.
Footnote 44:
Rifles.
Footnote 45:
Grenadiers.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE SIEGE OF DELHI: JUNE AND JULY.
While these varied scenes were being presented; while sepoy regiments
were revolting throughout the whole breadth of Northern India, and a
handful of British troops was painfully toiling to control them; while
Henry Lawrence was struggling, and struggling even to death, to maintain
his position in Oude; while John Lawrence was sagaciously managing the
half-wild Punjaub at a troublous time; while Wheeler at Cawnpore, and
Colvin at Agra, were beset in the very thick of the mutineers; while
Neill and Havelock were advancing up the Jumna; while Canning was doing
his best at Calcutta, Harris and Elphinstone at Madras and Bombay, and
the imperial government at home, to meet the trying difficulties with a
determined front—while all this was doing, Delhi was the scene of a
continuous series of operations. Every eye was turned towards that
place. The British felt that there was no security for their power in
India till Delhi was retaken; the insurgents knew that they had a
rallying-point for all their disaffected countrymen, so long as the
Mogul city was theirs; and hence bands of armed men were attracted
thither by antagonistic motives. Although the real siege did not
commence till many weary weeks had passed, the plan and preparations for
it must be dated from the very day when the startling news spread over
India that Delhi had been seized by rebellious sepoys, under the
auspices of the decrepit, dethroned, debauched representative of the
Moguls.
It was, as we have already seen (p. 70), on the morning of Monday the
11th of May, that the 11th and 20th regiments Bengal native infantry,
and the 3d Bengal cavalry, arrived at Delhi after a night-march from
Meerut, where they had mutinied on the preceding evening. At Delhi, we
have also seen, those mutineers were joined by the 38th, 54th, and 74th
native infantry. It was on that same 11th of May that evening saw the
six mutinous regiments masters of the imperial city; and the English
officers and residents, their wives and children, wanderers through
jungles and over streams and rivers. What occurred within Delhi on the
subsequent days is imperfectly known; the few Europeans who could not or
did not escape were in hiding; and scanty notices only have ever come to
light from those or other sources. A Lahore newspaper, three or four
months afterwards, gave a narrative prepared by a native, who was within
Delhi from the 21st of May to the 23d of June. Arriving ten days after
the mutiny, he found the six regiments occupying the Selimgurh and
Mohtabagh, but free to roam over the city; where the sepoys and sowars,
aided by the rabble of the place, plundered the better houses and shops,
stole horses from those who possessed them, ‘looted’ the passengers who
crossed the Jumna by the bridge of boats, and fought with each other for
the property which the fleeing British families had left behind them.
After a few days, something like order was restored, by leaders who
assumed command in the name of the King of Delhi. This was all the more
necessary when new arrivals of insurgent troops took place, from
Allygurh, Minpooree, Agra, Muttra, Hansi, Hissar, Umballa, Jullundur,
Nuseerabad, and other places. The mutineers did not, at any time, afford
proof that they were really well commanded; but still there _was_
command, and the defence of the city was arranged on a definite plan. As
at Sebastopol, so at Delhi; the longer the besiegers delayed their
operations, the greater became the number of defenders within the place,
and the stronger the defence-works.
It must be remembered, in tracing the history of the siege of Delhi,
that every soldier necessary for forming the siege-army had to be
brought from distant spots. The cantonment outside the city was wholly
in the hands of the rebels; and not a British soldier remained in arms
in or near the place. Mr Colvin at Agra speedily heard the news, but he
had no troops to send for the recapture. General Hewett had a British
force at Meerut—unskilfully handled, as many persons thought and still
think; and it remained to be seen what arrangements the
commander-in-chief could make to render this and other forces available
for the reconquest of the important city.
Major-general Sir Henry Barnard was the medium of communication on this
occasion. Being stationed at Umballa, in command of the Sirhind military
division, he received telegraphic messages on the 11th of May from
Meerut and Delhi, announcing the disasters at those places. He
immediately despatched his aid-de-camp to Simla, to point out the urgent
need for General Anson’s presence on the plains instead of among the
hills. Anson, hearing this news on the 12th, first thought about his
troops, and then about his own movements. Knowing well the extreme
paucity of European regiments in the Delhi and Agra districts, and in
all the region thence eastward to Calcutta, he saw that any available
force to recover possession of Delhi must come chiefly from Sirhind and
the Punjaub. Many regiments were at the time at the hill-stations of
Simla, Dugshai, Kussowlie, Deyrah Dhoon, Subathoo, &c., where they were
posted during a time of peace in a healthy temperate region; but now
they had to descend from their sanitaria to take part in stern
operations in the plains. The commander-in-chief sent instant orders to
transfer the Queen’s 75th foot from Kussowlie to Umballa, the 1st and 2d
Bengal Europeans from Dugshai to Umballa, the Sirmoor battalion from
Deyrah Dhoon to Meerut, two companies of the Queen’s 8th foot from
Jullundur to Phillour, and two companies of the Queen’s 81st foot,
together with one company of European artillery, from Lahore to
Umritsir. These orders given, General Anson himself left Simla on the
evening of the 14th, and arrived at Umballa early on the 15th. Before he
started, he issued the proclamation already adverted to, announcing to
the troops of the native army generally that no cartridges would be
brought into use against the conscientious wishes of the soldiery; and
after he arrived at Umballa, fearing that his proclamation had not been
strong enough, he issued another, to the effect that no new cartridges
whatever should be served out—thereby, as he hoped, putting an end to
all fear concerning objectionable lubricating substances being used; for
he was not aware how largely hypocrisy was mixed up with sincerity in
the native scruples on this point.
Anson and Barnard, when together at Umballa, had to measure well the
forces available to them. The Umballa magazines were nearly empty of
stores and ammunition; the artillery wagons were in the depôt at
Phillour; the medical officers dreaded the heat for troops to move in
such a season; and the commissariat was ill supplied with vehicles and
beasts of burden and draught. The only effectual course was found to be,
that of bringing small detachments from many different stations; and
this system was in active progress during the week following Anson’s
arrival at Umballa. On the 16th, troops came into that place from
Phillour and Subathoo. On the 17th arrived three European regiments from
the Hills,[49] which were shortly to be strengthened by artillery from
Phillour. The prospect was not altogether a cheering one, for two of the
regiments at the station were Bengal native troops (the 5th and 60th),
on whose fidelity only slight reliance could be placed at such a
critical period. In order that no time might he lost in forming the
nucleus of a force for Delhi, some of the troops were despatched that
same night; comprising one wing of a European regiment, a few horse, and
two guns. On successive days, other troops took their departure as
rapidly as the necessary arrangements could be made; but Anson was
greatly embarrassed by the distance between Umballa and the station
where the siege-guns were parked; he knew that a besieging army would be
of no use without those essential adjuncts; and it was on that account
that he was unable to respond to Viscount Canning’s urgent request that
he would push on rapidly towards Delhi.
On the 23d of May, Anson sketched a plan of operations, which he
communicated to the brigadiers whose services were more immediately at
his disposal. Leaving Sir Henry Barnard in command at Umballa, he
proposed to head the siege-army himself. It was to consist[50] of three
brigades—one from Umballa, under Brigadier Halifax; a second from the
same place, under Brigadier Jones; and a third from Meerut, under
Brigadier Wilson. He proposed to send off the two brigades from Umballa
on various days, so that all the corps should reach Kurnaul, fifty miles
nearer to Delhi, by the 30th. Then, by starting on the 1st of June, he
expected to reach Bhagput on the 5th, with all his Umballa force except
the siege-train, which might possibly arrive on the 6th. Meanwhile
Major-general Hewett was to organise a brigade at Meerut, and send it to
Bhagput, where it would form a junction with the other two brigades.
Ghazeeoodeen Nuggur being a somewhat important post, as a key to the
Upper Doab, it was proposed that Brigadier Wilson should leave a small
force there—consisting of a part of the Sirmoor battalion, a part of the
Rampore horse, and a few guns—while he advanced with the rest of his
brigade to Bhagput. Lastly, it was supposed that the Meerut brigade, by
starting on the 1st or 2d of June, could reach the rendezvous on the
5th, and that then all could advance together towards Delhi. Such was
General Anson’s plan—a plan that he was not destined to put in execution
himself.
It will be convenient to trace the course of proceeding in the following
mode—to describe the advance of the Meerut brigade to Bhagput, with its
adventures on the way; then to notice in a similar way the march of the
main body from Umballa to Bhagput; next the progress of the collected
siege-army from the last-named town to the crest or ridge bounding Delhi
on the north; and, lastly, the commencement of the siege-operations
themselves—operations lamentably retarded by the want of a sufficient
force of siege-guns.
[Illustration:
SIR HENRY BARNARD.
]
Major-general Hewett, at Meerut, proceeded to organise a brigade in
accordance with the plan laid down by General Anson: retaining at his
head-quarters a force sufficient to protect Meerut and its
neighbourhood. It was on the 27th of May that this brigade was ready,
and that Colonel Archdall Wilson was placed in command of it—a gallant
officer afterwards better known as Brigadier or General Wilson. The
brigade was very small; comprising less than 500 of the 60th Rifles, 200
of the Carabiniers, one battery and a troop of artillery. They started
on the evening of the 27th; and after marching during the cooler hours
of the 28th and 29th, encamped on the morning of the 30th at
Ghazeeoodeen Nuggur (Ghazee-u-deen Nuggur, Guznee de Nuggur). This was a
small town or village on the left bank of the river Hindoun, eighteen
miles east of Delhi, important as commanding one of the passages over
that river from Meerut, the passage being by a suspension-bridge.
On that same day, the 30th of May, Brigadier Wilson was attacked by the
insurgents, who had sallied forth from Delhi for this purpose, and who
were doubtless anxious to prevent a junction of the Meerut force with
that from Kurnaul. The enemy appeared in force on the opposite side of
the river, with five guns in position. Wilson at once sent a body of
Rifles to command the suspension-bridge; while a few Carabiniers were
despatched along the river-bank to a place where they were able to ford.
The insurgents opened fire with their five heavy guns; whereupon the
brigadier sent off to the attacked points all his force except
sufficient to guard his camp; and then the contest became very brisk.
The Rifles, under Colonel Jones, were ordered to charge the enemy’s
guns; they rushed forward, disregarding grape and canister shot, and
advanced towards the guns. When they saw a shell about to burst, they
threw themselves down on their faces to avoid the danger, then jumped
up, and off again. They reached the guns, drove away the gunners, and
effected a capture. The enemy, beaten away from the defences of the
bridge, retreated to a large walled village, where they had the courage
to stand a hand-to-hand contest for a time—a struggle which no native
troops could long continue against the British Rifles. As evening came
on, the enemy fled with speed to Delhi, leaving behind them five guns,
ammunition, and stores. Colonel Coustance followed them some distance
with the Carabiniers; but it was not deemed prudent to continue the
pursuit after nightfall. In this smart affair 11 were killed, 21 wounded
or missing. Captain Andrews, with four of his riflemen, while taking
possession of two heavy pieces of ordnance on the causeway, close to the
toll-house of the bridge, were blown up by the explosion of an
ammunition-wagon, fired by one of the sepoy gunners.
The mutineers did not allow Brigadier Wilson to remain many hours quiet.
He saw parties of their horse reconnoitring his position all the morning
of the 31st; and he kept, therefore, well on the alert. At one o’clock
the enemy, supposed to be five thousand in number, took up a position a
mile in length, on a ridge on the opposite side of the Hindoun, and
about a mile distant from Wilson’s advanced picket. Horse-artillery and
two 18-pounders were at once sent forward to reply to this fire, with a
party of Carabiniers to support; while another party, of Rifles,
Carabiniers, and guns, went to support the picket at the bridge. For
nearly two hours the contest was one of artillery alone, the British
guns being repeatedly and vainly charged by the enemy’s cavalry; the
enemy’s fire then slackening, and the Rifles having cleared a village on
the left of the toll-bar, the brigadier ordered a general advance. The
result was as on the preceding day; the mutineers were driven back. The
British all regretted they could not follow, and cut up the enemy in the
retreat; but the brigadier, seeing that many of his poor fellows fell
sun-stricken, was forced to call them back into camp when the action was
over. This victory was not so complete as that on the preceding day; for
the mutineers were able to carry off all their guns, two heavy and five
light. The killed and wounded on the side of the English were 24 in
number, of whom 10 were stricken down by the heat of the sun—a cause of
death that shews how terrible must have been the ordeal passed through
by all on such a day. Among the officers, Lieutenant Perkins was killed,
and Captain Johnson and Ensign Napier wounded.
After the struggle of the 31st of May, the enemy did not molest Wilson
in his temporary camp at Ghazeeoodeen Nuggur. He provided for his
wounded, refitted his brigade, and waited for reinforcements. On the
morning of the 3d of June he was joined by another hundred of the 60th
Rifles from Meerut, and by a Goorkha regiment, the Sirmoor battalion,
from Deyrah Dhoon; and then lost no time in marching to the rendezvous.
The route taken was very circuitous, hilly, and rugged; and the brigade
did not reach the rendezvous head-quarters at Bhagput till the morning
of the 6th.
We have now to trace the fortunes of the Umballa force. It was on the
23d of May, as has been shewn, that General Anson put forth the scheme
for an advance towards Delhi, in which the brigade from Meerut was to
take part. He left Umballa on the 24th, and reached Kurnaul on the 25th.
All the proposed regiments and detachments from Umballa had by that time
come in to Kurnaul except two troops of horse-artillery; but as the
siege-train was far in arrear, Anson telegraphed to Calcutta that he
would not be in a position to advance from Kurnaul towards Delhi until
the 31st of the month. On the 26th, the commander-in-chief’s plans were
ended by the ending of his life; an attack of cholera carried him off in
a few hours. He hastily summoned Sir Henry Barnard from Umballa; and his
last words were to place the Delhi force under the command of that
officer. At that time news and orders travelled slowly between Calcutta
and the northwest; for dâks were interrupted and telegraph wires cut;
and it was therefore necessary that the command should at once be given
to some one, without waiting for sanction from the governor-general.
Viscount Canning heard the news on the 3d of June, and immediately
confirmed the appointment of Sir Henry to the command of the siege-army;
but that confirmation was not known to the besiegers till long
afterwards. Major-general Reed, by the death of Anson, became
provisional commander-in-chief; and he left Rawul Pindee on the 28th of
May to join the head-quarters of the siege-army, but without superseding
Barnard. It was a terrible time for all these generals: Anson and
Halifax had both succumbed to cholera; Reed was so thoroughly broken
down by illness that he could not command in person; and Barnard was
summoned from a sick-bed by the dying commander-in-chief.
Sir Henry Barnard did not feel justified in advancing from Kurnaul until
heavier guns than those he possessed could arrive from the Punjaub. On
the 31st, a 9-pounder battery—those already at hand being only
6-pounders—came into camp; and the march from Kurnaul to Paniput
commenced on that evening. Sir Henry expected to have met Brigadier
Wilson at Raee, where there was a bridge of boats over the Jumna; but
through some misconstruction or countermanding of orders, Wilson had
taken a much more circuitous route by Ghazeeoodeen Nuggur, and could not
join the Umballa brigade at the place or on the day expected. Barnard,
after a brief sojourn and a slight change of plan, sent out elephants to
aid in bringing forward the Meerut brigade, and advanced with the
greater portion of his own force to Alipore (or Aleepore), where he
arrived on the morning of the 5th of June. The chief artillery force
being with the Meerut brigade, Sir Henry waited for Wilson, who effected
a junction with him on the 6th; and on the 7th, the united forces were
reorganised, at a point so near Delhi that the troops looked forward
eagerly to a speedy encounter with the enemy.
Many of the soldiers who thus assembled at a place distant only a few
miles from the famous city, which they all hoped soon to retake from the
hands of the enemy, had marched great distances. Among the number was
the corps of Guides, whose march was one of those determined exploits of
which soldiers always feel proud, and to which they point as proof that
they shrink not from fatigue and heat when a post of duty is assigned to
them. This remarkable corps was raised on the conclusion of the Sutlej
campaign, to act either as regular troops or as guides and spies,
according as the exigencies of the service might require. The men were
chosen for their sagacity and intelligence, as well as for their courage
and hardihood. They were inhabitants of the Punjaub, but belonged to no
one selected race or creed; for among them were to be found
mountaineers, borderers, men of the plains, and half-wild warriors.
Among them nearly all the dialects of Northern India were more or less
known; and they were as familiar with hill-fighting as with service on
the plains. They were often employed as intelligencers, and in
reconnoitring an enemy’s position. They were the best of all troops to
act against the robber hill-tribes, with whom India is so greatly
infested. Among the many useful pieces of Indian service effected by Sir
Henry Lawrence, was the suggestion of this corps; and Lord Hardinge,
when commander-in-chief, acted on it in 1846. The corps was at first
limited to one troop of cavalry and two companies of artillery, less
than three hundred men in all; but the Marquis of Dalhousie afterwards
raised it to three troops and six companies, about eight hundred and
fifty men, commanded by four European officers and a surgeon. The men
were dressed in a plain serviceable drab uniform. Their pay was eight
rupees per month for a foot-soldier, and twenty-four for a trooper.
These, then, were the Guides of whom English newspaper-readers heard so
much but knew so little. They were stationed at a remote post in the
Punjaub, not far from the Afghan frontier, when orders reached them to
march to Delhi, a distance of no less than 750 miles. They set off,
horse and foot together, and accomplished the distance in twenty-eight
days—a really great achievement in the heat of an Indian summer; they
suffered much, of course; but all took pride in their work, and obtained
high praise from the commander-in-chief. One of the English officers
afterwards declared that he had never before experienced the necessity
of ‘roughing’ it as on this occasion. Captain Daly commanded the whole
corps, while Captain Quintin Battye had special control of that portion
of it which consisted of troopers.
The Guides, as has just been shewn, were an exceptional corps, raised
among the natives for a peculiar service. But the siege-army contained
gallant regiments of ordinary troops, whose marching was little less
severe. One of these was the 1st Bengal European Fusiliers; a British
regiment wholly belonging to the Company, and one which in old times was
known as Lord Lake’s ‘dear old dirty shirts.’ On the 13th of May it was
at Dugshai, a sanatarium and hill-station not far from Simla. Major
Jacob rode in hastily from Simla, announced that Meerut and Delhi were
in revolt, and brought an order for the regiment to march down to
Umballa forthwith, to await further orders. At five o’clock that same
day the men marched forth, with sixty rounds in pouch, and food in
haversack. After a twenty-four miles’ walk they refreshed on the ground,
supping and sleeping as best they could. At an hour after midnight they
renewed their march, taking advantage—as troops in India are wont to
do—of the cool hours of the night; they marched till six or seven, and
then rested during the heat of the day at Chundeegurh. From five till
ten in the evening they again advanced, and then had supper and three
hours’ rest at Mobarrackpore. Then, after a seven hours’ march during
the night of the 14th-15th, they reached Umballa—having accomplished
sixty miles in thirty-eight hours. Here they were compelled to remain
some days until the arrangements of the general in other directions were
completed; and during this detention many of their number were carried
off by cholera. At length four companies were sent on towards Kurnaul on
the 17th, under Captain Dennis; while the other companies did not start
till the 21st. The two wings of the regiments afterwards effected a
junction, and marched by Paniput, Soomalka, and Sursowlie, to Raee,
where they arrived on the 31st of May. Under a scorching sun every day,
the troops were well-nigh beaten down; but the hope of ‘thrashing the
rebels at Delhi’ cheered them on. One officer speaks of the glee with
which he and his companions came in sight of a field of onions, ‘all
green above and white below,’ and of the delightful relish they enjoyed
during a temporary rest. The regiment, after remaining at Raee till the
morning of the 5th of June, was then joined by its commandant, Colonel
Welchman. Forming now part of Brigadier Showers’ brigade, the 1st
Europeans marched to Alipore, where its fortunes were mixed up with
those of the other troops in the besieging army.
Many at Calcutta wondered why Barnard did not make a more rapid advance
from Paniput and Raee to Alipore; and many at Raee wondered why Wilson
did not come in more quickly from Ghazeeoodeen Nuggur. The brigadier was
said to have had his plans somewhat changed by suggestions from one of
the Greatheds (Mr H. H. Greathed was agent, and Lieutenant W. H.
Greathed, aid-de-camp, for the lieutenant-governor of the Northwest
Provinces in the camp of the siege-army); while Sir Henry was anxious
both to secure Wilson’s co-operation as soon as he started, and to
preserve the health of his men during the trying season of heat. It is
greatly to the credit of him and all the officers, that the various
regiments, notwithstanding their long marches and fierce exposure to
heat, reached Delhi in admirable health—leaving cholera many miles
behind them. Having been joined by a siege-train on the 6th of June, and
by Brigadier Wilson’s forces on the 7th, Barnard began at once to
organise his plans for an advance. The reinforcements brought by Wilson
were very miscellaneous;[51] but they had fought well on the banks of
the Hindoun, and were an indispensable aid to the general. Major-general
Reed arrived from Rawul Pindee at midnight, not to take the command from
Barnard, but to sanction the line of proceedings as temporary
commander-in-chief.
It was at one o’clock on the morning of the 8th of June that the
siege-army set out from Alipore, to march the ten miles which separate
that village from Delhi. Some of the reinforcements, such as the Guides,
had not yet arrived; but the troops which formed the army of march on
this morning, according to Sir Henry’s official dispatch, were as noted
below.[52] They advanced to a village, the name of which is variously
spelt in the dispatches, letters, and maps as Badulla Serai,
Bardul-ki-Serai, Badulee-ke-Serai, Bardeleeke Serai, Budleeka Suraee,
&c., about four miles from Delhi. Here the fighting began; here the
besiegers came in contact with the enemy who had been so long sought.
When within a short distance of the village, the sepoy watch-fires were
seen (for day had scarcely yet broken). Suddenly a report was heard, and
a shot and shell came roaring down the road to the advancing British
force; and then it became necessary to plan a mode of dealing with the
enemy, who were several thousands in number, in a strongly intrenched
position, with artillery well served. Sir Henry Barnard intrusted
Brigadiers Showers, Graves, and Grant with distinct duties—the first to
advance with his brigade on the right of the main trunk-road; the second
to take the left of the same road; and the third to cross the canal,
advance quietly, and recross in the rear of the enemy’s position at such
a time as a signal should direct them to effect a surprise. The guns
were placed in and on both sides of the road. When the hostile forces
met, the enemy opened a severe fire—a fire so severe, indeed, that the
general resolved to stop it by capturing the battery itself. This was
effected in a gallant manner by the 75th foot and the 1st Europeans; it
was perilous work, for the troops had to pass over open ground, with
very little shelter or cover. Several officers were struck down at this
point; but the most serious loss was produced by a cannon-shot which
killed Colonel Chester, adjutant-general of the army. The battery was
charged so determinedly that the artillerymen were forced to flee,
leaving their guns behind them; while the advance of the other two
brigades compelled them to a general flight. Colonel Welchman, of the
1st Fusiliers, in his eagerness galloped after three of the mutineers
and cut one of them down; but the act would have cost him his own life,
had not a private of his regiment come opportunely to his aid.
A question now arose, whether to halt for a while, or push on towards
Delhi. It was between five and six o’clock on a summer morning; and
Barnard decided that it would be advisable not to allow the enemy time
to reassemble in or near the village. The men were much exhausted; but
after a hasty taste of rum and biscuit, they resumed their march.
Advancing in two columns, Brigadiers Wilson and Showers fought their way
along the main trunk-road; while Barnard and Graves turned off at
Azadpore by the road which led through the cantonment of Delhi—a
cantonment lately in the hands of the British authorities, but now
deserted. This advance was a continuous fight the whole way: the rebels
disputing the passage inch by inch. It then became perceptible that a
rocky ridge which bounds Delhi on the north was bristling with bayonets
and cannon, and that the conquest of this ridge would be a necessary
preliminary to an approach to Delhi. Barnard determined on a rapid
flank-movement to turn the right of the enemy’s position. With a force
consisting of the 60th Rifles under Colonel Jones, the 2d Europeans
under Captain Boyd, and a troop of horse-artillery under Captain Money,
Sir Henry rapidly advanced, ascended the ridge, took the enemy in flank,
compelled them to flee, and swept the whole length of the ridge—the
enemy abandoning twenty-six guns, with ammunition and camp-equipage. The
Rifles rendered signal service in this movement; taking advantage of
every slight cover, advancing closer to the enemy’s guns than other
infantry could safely do, and picking off the gunners. Brigadier Wilson
and his companions were enabled to advance by the main road; and he and
Barnard met on the ridge. From that hour the besieging army took up its
position before Delhi—never to leave it till months of hard fighting had
made them masters of the place. During the struggle on the ridge, two
incidents greatly exasperated the troops: one was the discovery that a
captured cart, which they supposed to contain ammunition, was full of
the mangled limbs and trunks of their murdered fellow-Christians; the
other was that two or three Europeans were found fighting for and with
the rebels—probably soldiers of fortune, ready to sell their services to
the highest bidders. Every European—and it was supposed that Delhi
contained others of the kind—so caught was sure to be cut to pieces by
the enraged soldiery, with a far more deadly hatred than sepoys
themselves could have inspired. This day’s work was not effected without
serious loss. Colonel Chester, we have said, was killed; as were
Captains Delamain and Russell, and Lieutenant Harrison. The wounded
comprised Colonel Herbert; Captains Dawson and Greville; Lieutenants
Light, Hunter, Davidson, Hare, Fitzgerald, Barter, Rivers, and Ellis;
and Ensign Pym. In all, officers and privates, there were 51 killed and
133 wounded. Nearly 50 horses were either killed or wounded.
Here, then, in the afternoon of the 8th of June, were the British posted
before Delhi. It will be necessary to have a clear notion of the
relative positions of the besiegers and the besieged, to understand the
narrative which is to follow. Of Delhi itself an account is given
elsewhere, with a brief notice of the defence-works;[53] but the gates
and bastions must here be enumerated somewhat more minutely, as the plan
of the siege mainly depended on them. A small branch or nullah of the
Jumna is separated from the main stream by a sand-bank which forms an
island; the junction or rejoining of the two takes place where the Jumna
is crossed by a bridge of boats, and where the old fort called the
Selimgurh was built. Beginning at this point, we trace the circuit of
the wall and its fortifications. From the Selimgurh the wall borders—or
rather bordered (for it will be well to speak in the past tense)—the
nullah for about three-quarters of a mile, in a northwest direction,
marked by the Calcutta Gate, a martello tower, the Kaila Gate, the
Nuseergunje Bastion, and the Moree or Moira Bastion. The wall then
turned sharply to the west, or slightly southwest; and during a length
of about three-quarters of a mile presented the Moree Bastion just
named, the Cashmere Gate, the Moree Gate, and the Shah Bastion. To this
succeeded a portion about a mile in length, running nearly north and
south, and marked by the Cabool Gate, a martello tower, Burn Bastion,
the Lahore Gate, and the Gurstin Bastion. Then, an irregular polygonal
line of two miles in length carried the wall round to the bank of the
Jumna, by a course bending more and more to the east; here were
presented the Turushkana Gate, a martello tower, the Ajmeer Gate, the
Akbar Bastion, another martello tower, the Ochterlony Bastion, the
Turcoman Gate, a third and a fourth martello towers, and the Delhi Gate.
Lastly, along the bank of the river for a mile and a half, and separated
from the water at most times by a narrow sandy strip, was a continuation
of the wall, broken by the Wellesley and Nawab Bastions, the Duryagunje
Gate, a martello tower, the Rajghat Gate, the wall of the imperial
palace, and the defence-wall entirely surrounding the Selimgurh. Such
were the numerous gates, bastions, and towers at that period; many parts
of the wall and bastions were formed of masonry twelve feet thick, and
the whole had been further strengthened by the rebels during four weeks
of occupation. Outside the defences was a broad ditch twenty feet deep
from the ground, or thirty-five from the top of the wall.
The position taken up by the besiegers may be thus briefly described.
The camp was pitched on the former parade-ground of the deserted
encampment, at a spot about a mile and a half from the northern wall of
the city, with a rocky ridge acting as a screen between it and the city.
This ridge was commanded by the rebels until the afternoon of the 8th;
but from that time it was in the hands of the besiegers. The British
line on this ridge rested on the left on an old tower used as a
signal-post, often called the Flagstaff Tower; at its centre, upon an
old mosque; and at its right, upon a house with enclosures strongly
placed at the point where the ridge begins to slope down towards the
plain. This house, formerly occupied by a Mahratta chief named Hindoo
Rao, was generally known as Hindoo Rao’s house. Owing to the ridge being
very oblique in reference to the position of the city, the right of the
line was of necessity thrown much forward, and hence Hindoo Rao’s house
became the most important post in the line. Near this house, owing to
its commanding position, the British planted three batteries; and to
protect these batteries, Rifles, Guides, and Sirmoor Goorkhas were
posted within convenient distance. Luckily for the British, Hindoo Rao’s
house was ‘pucka-built,’ that is, a substantial brick structure, and
bore up well against the storm of shot aimed at it by the rebels.
When the British had effected a permanent lodgment on the ridge, with
the camp pitched in the old cantonment behind the ridge as a screen, the
time had arrived when the detailed plan for the siege was to be
determined, if it had not been determined already. Some military critics
averred that Sir Henry Barnard, only acquainted in a slight degree with
that part of India, displayed indecision, giving and countermanding
orders repeatedly, and leaving his subordinates in doubt concerning the
real plan of the siege. Others contended that the sudden assumption of
command on the death of General Anson, the small number of troops, and
the want of large siege-guns, were enough to render necessary great
caution in the mode of procedure. The truth appears to be, that the
rebels were found stronger in Delhi, than was suspected before the
siege-army approached close to the place; moreover, they had contested
the advance from Alipore more obstinately than had been expected—shewing
that, though not equal to British soldiers, it would not be safe to
despise their prowess. The plan of attack would obviously depend upon
the real or supposed defensive measures of the besieged. If the rebels
risked a battle outside the walls, they might very likely be defeated
and followed into the city and palace; but then would come a disastrous
street-fighting against enemies screened behind loopholed walls, and
firing upon besiegers much less numerous than themselves. Or the
half-crumbled walls might easily be scaled by active troops; but as
these troops would be a mere handful against large numbers, their
success would be very doubtful. A third plan, suggested by some among
the many advisers of that period, was to make an attack by water, or on
the river-side. The Jumna is at certain times so shallow at Delhi as to
be almost fordable, and leaving a strip of sand on which batteries might
be planted; these batteries might breach the river-wall of the palace,
and so disturb the garrison as to permit a large body of the besiegers
to enter under cover of the firing; but a rise in the river would
fatally affect this enterprise. A fourth plan suggested was to attack
near the Cashmere Gate, on the north side of the city; the siege-army
would in this case be protected on its left flank by the river, and
might employ all its force in breaching the wall between the gate and
the river; the guns would render the mainguard untenable; when the
assault was made, it would be on a part where there is much vacant
ground in the interior; and the besieging troops would have a better
chance than if at once entangled among the intricacies of loopholed
houses. Any project for starving out the garrison, if it ever entered
the mind of any soldier, was soon abandoned; the boundary was too
extensive, the gates too many, and the besiegers too few, to effect
this.
[Illustration:
Hindoo Rao’s House—Battery in front.
]
During the early days after the arrival of the British, indications
appeared of an intention to blow open the Cashmere Gate, and effect a
forcible entry into the city at once; but these indications soon ceased;
and the besiegers found themselves compelled rather to resist attacks
than to make them; for the enemy, strong in numbers, made repeated
sorties from the various gates of the city, and endeavoured to dislodge
the British. One such sortie was made about noon on the 9th, within
twenty-four hours after the arrival of the besiegers; the enemy were,
however, easily repulsed, and driven in again. The corps of Guides met
with a loss on this day which occasioned much regret. Among those who
accompanied the hardy men all the way from the Afghan frontier was
Captain Quintin Battye, a young officer much beloved as commandant of
the cavalry portion of the corps. They arrived on the 8th; and on the
next day poor Battye was shot through the body; he lived twenty-four
hours in great agony, and then sank. The Guides had a large share in
this day’s work; many of them fell, in dislodging the enemy from a rocky
position which they temporarily occupied. On the 10th a little
skirmishing took place, but not so serious as on the preceding day; it
was found, however, that the white shirts of the men were a little too
conspicuous; and they underwent an extemporaneous process of dyeing to
deepen the colour. On the 12th, early in the morning, the enemy made a
sudden attack on both flanks; but all points were speedily defended.
They were first driven back on the left; then, after a repulse on the
right, they advanced a second time under the cover of thickly wooded
gardens near the Subzee Mundee—a suburb of Delhi about a mile and a
quarter northwest of the Cabool Gate. Major Jacob was then sent against
them with some of the Bengal Europeans; he beat them back till they got
beyond the suburb, and then returned to the camp. This morning’s affair
was supposed to have cost the enemy 250 men; the British loss was very
small. On this day, the British had the mortification of seeing two
regiments of Rohilcund mutineers, the 60th native infantry and the 4th
native cavalry, enter Delhi with bands playing and colours flying; the
defiant manner was quite as serious an affair as the augmentation of the
strength of the garrison. On the 13th a large enclosure in advance of
the British left, known as Metcalfe House, was occupied by them, and the
erection of a battery of heavy guns and mortars commenced.
Not a day passed without some such struggles as have just been adverted
to. The besieging of the city had not really commenced, for the British
had not yet a force of artillery sufficient for that purpose; indeed,
they were now the besieged rather than the besiegers; for the enemy came
out of the city—horse, foot, and guns—and attempted to effect a surprise
on one part or other of the position on the ridge. Against the battery
at Metcalfe House a sortie was made on the 15th, and another was made on
the same day at the right of the line. On the 17th an exciting encounter
took place. A shot from the city struck the corner of Hindoo Rao’s
house, and glancing off, killed Lieutenant Wheatley of the Goorkhas. It
was then suspected that the enemy, besides their attacks on this house
in front, were throwing up a battery outside the western gates of the
town, at a large building known as the Eedghah, formerly used as a
serai. Thereupon a force was immediately organised, consisting of
horse-artillery, cavalry, Goorkhas, and Rifles, to drive them away from
that position. They passed through the Subzee Mundee to the Eedghah,
drove out the enemy, and captured the only gun which had yet been placed
there. One of the officers on this duty had a finger shot off, a bullet
through the wrist, another through the cheek, and another which broke
the collar-bone; yet he recovered, to fight again.
On the 19th of June it came to the knowledge of Brigadier Grant that the
enemy intended to attack the camp in the rear; and as the safety of the
camp had been placed under his keeping, he made instant preparations to
frustrate the insurgents. These troops are believed to have been
augmentations of the insurgent forces, consisting of the 15th and 30th
native regiments from Nuseerabad. The brigadier advanced with six guns
and a squadron of lancers to reconnoitre, and found the enemy in
position half a mile in rear of the Ochterlony Gardens, northwest of the
camp. Troops quickly arrived, and a rapid exchange of fire began, the
enemy being strong in artillery as well as in infantry. Just as the dusk
of the evening came on, the enemy, by a series of skilful and vigorous
attacks, aided by well-served artillery, very nearly succeeded in
turning the flank of the British, and in capturing two guns; but both
these disasters were frustrated. The dusk deepened into darkness; but
the brigadier felt that it would not do to allow the enemy to occupy
that position during the night. A charge was made with great impetuosity
by horse and foot, with so much success, that the enemy were driven back
quite into the town. The brigadier had to regret the loss of Colonel
Yule of the 9th Lancers, who was knocked off his horse, and not found
again by his men till next morning; when they were shocked to see him
dead and mangled, with both thighs broken, a ball through the head just
over the eyes, his throat cut, and his hands much gashed. He had been on
leave of absence in Cashmere, but directly he heard of the work to be
done, travelled night and day till he reached his regiment just before
its arrival at Delhi. Lieutenant Alexander was also among the killed.
Captain Daly of the Guides, and six other officers, were wounded. All
the officers of the Guides, but one, received wounds. Altogether, the
day’s fighting resulted to the British in the loss of 19 killed and 77
wounded; and it was a source of much regret that a few of these fell by
the hands of their own comrades, while fighting in some confusion as
darkness approached. No less than sixty horses fell. The brigadier did
not fail to mention the names of three private soldiers—Thomas Hancock,
John Purcell, and Roopur Khan—who behaved with great gallantry at a
critical moment.
Sir Henry Barnard, for very cogent reasons, watched every movement on
the part of the mutineers who sallied forth from Delhi. On the 22d, he
saw a body of them come out of the city; and as they were not seen to
return at night, he suspected a masked attack. At six in the evening, he
sent out a party of infantry, Guides, and Sappers, to demolish two
bridges which carried the great road across a canal westward of the
camp, and over which the enemy were in the habit of taking their
artillery and columns when they wished to attack the camp in the rear;
this was a work of six hours, warmly contested but successfully
accomplished. On the 23d, Sir Henry, expecting a valuable convoy from
the Punjaub, adopted prompt measures for its protection. He sent out a
strong escort, which safely brought the convoy into camp. Scarcely had
this been effected, when his attention was drawn to the right of his
position, near Hindoo Rao’s house. It was afterwards ascertained that
the enemy, remembering the 23d of June as the centenary of the battle of
Plassy, had resolved to attempt a great victory over the British on that
day; incited, moreover, by the circumstance that two festivals, one
Mussulman and the other Hindoo, happened to occur on that day; and they
emerged from the city in vast force to effect this. They commenced their
attack on the Subzee Mundee side, having a strong position in a village
and among garden-walls. Here a combat was maintained during the whole of
the day, for the rebels continued their attacks with much pertinacity;
they lodged themselves in loopholed houses, a serai, and a mosque,
whence they could not be dislodged till they had wrought much mischief
by musketry. At length, however, they were driven back into the city.
The value of the precaution taken on the preceding evening, in
destroying the bridges, was made fully evident; for the rebels were
unable to cross the canal to get to the rear of the camp. The 1st
Europeans had a desperate contest in the Subzee Mundee, where
street-fighting, and firing from windows and house-tops, continued for
many hours. The British troops suffered terribly from the heat of the
midsummer sun, to which they were exposed from sunrise to sunset. Many
officers were brought away sun-struck and powerless. The Guides fought
for fifteen hours uninterruptedly, with no food, and only a little
water. At one o’clock, when the enemy were strengthened by large
reinforcements from the city, the Guides found themselves without
ammunition, and had to send back to the camp for more; but as great
delay occurred, they were in imminent peril of annihilation. Fortunately
a corps of Sikhs, who had arrived at camp that morning, rushed forward
at a critical moment, and aided the Guides in driving back the enemy.
One of the incidents of the day has been thus narrated, shewing how
little scruple a Goorkha felt when he met a sepoy: ‘In the intense heat,
a soldier of the 2d Europeans and a Goorkha sought the shade and
protection of a house near the Subzee Mundee, a window of which looked
into a lane where they were seated. Not long had they rested when, from
the open window, was seen to project the head of a sepoy. Now all
Hindoos have what ladies at home call “back-hair,” and this is usually
turned up into a knot; by this the unlucky wretch was at once seized,
and before he could even think of resistance, his head was at a stroke
severed from his body by the sharp curved knife of the Goorkha!’ This
day’s work was in every way very severe, and shewed the besiegers that
the rebels were in great strength. Lieutenant Jackson was killed;
Colonel Welchman, Captain Jones, and Lieutenant Murray, wounded. The
total loss of the day was 39 killed and 121 wounded. The enemy’s loss
was very much larger; indeed, one of the estimates raised the number up
to a thousand. The loss appears to have somewhat dispirited the
mutineers, for they made very few attacks on the following three days.
But although there was a temporary cessation, Sir Henry Barnard, in his
official dispatches, shewed that he was much embarrassed by this
condition of affairs. His forces were few; those of the enemy were very
large; and the attacks were rendered more harassing by the uncertainty
of the point on which they would be made, and the impossibility of
judging whether they were about to be made on more points than one. The
onslaughts could only be successfully repulsed by the untiring and
unflinching gallantry of a small body of men. The enemy, instead of
being beleaguered within Delhi, were free to emerge from the city and
attack the besiegers’ position. The British did not complain: it was not
their wont; but they suffered greatly from this harassing kind of
warfare. Reinforcements were slowly coming in; in the last week of June
the Europeans numbered about three thousand; and they were well
satisfied with the native corps who fought by their side—the Guides, the
Goorkhas, and the Sikhs—all of whom joined very heartily in opposing the
rebel sepoys. The siege-material at this time consisted of five
batteries, mounting about fifteen guns and mortars, placed on various
points of the ridge; the bombardment of the city by these guns was not
very effective, for the distance averaged nearly a mile, and the guns
were not of large calibre.
The interval from the 23d to the 30th of June passed much in the same
way as the two preceding weeks; the British siege-guns wrought very
little mischief to the city; while the enemy occasionally sallied forth
to attack either the camp or the works on the ridge. It was often
asserted, and facts seemed to corroborate the statement, that when
mutinous regiments from other places appeared before Delhi, they were
not afforded reception and shelter until they had earned it by making an
attack on the British position; and thus it happened that the besiegers
were opposed by a constantly increasing number of the enemy. The
defenders of the garrison fitted up a large battery on the left of the
Cashmere Gate, one at the gate itself, one at the Moree Gate, one at the
Ajmeer Gate, and one directly opposite Hindoo Rao’s house; against these
five batteries, for a long time, the British had only three; so that the
besieged were stronger than the besiegers in every way. The gunners,
too, within Delhi, were fully equal to those of the siege-army in
accuracy of aim; their balls and shells fell near Hindoo Rao’s house so
thickly as to render that post a very perilous one to hold. One shell
entered the gateway, and killed eight or nine officers and men who were
seeking shelter from the mid-day heat.
[Illustration:
The General and his Staff at the Mosque Picket before Delhi.
]
It was pretty well ascertained, before June was half over, that Delhi
was not to be taken by a _coup de main_; and when Sir John Lawrence
became aware of that fact, he sent reinforcements down from the Punjaub
as rapidly as they could be collected. Every sepoy regiment that was
either disbanded or disarmed lessened his own danger, for he trusted
well in his Sikhs, Punjaubees, and Guides; and on that account he was
able to send Europeans and artillery. The reserve and depôt companies of
the regiments already serving before Delhi were sent down from the hills
to join their companions. A wing of H.M. 61st foot, a portion of the
8th, artillery from Jullundur, and artillerymen from Lahore, followed
the Guides and Sikhs, and gradually increased the besieging force. Then
came Punjaub rifles and Punjaub light horse; and there were still a few
Hindustani cavalry and horse-artillery in whom their officers placed
such unabated confidence that they were permitted to take part in the
siege-operations, on the ground that there were Europeans enough to
overawe them if they became unruly. These reinforcements of course came
in by degrees: we mention them all in one paragraph, but many weeks
elapsed before they could reach the Delhi camp. Fortunately, supplies
were plentiful; the country between Delhi and the Sutlej was kept pretty
free from the enemy; and the villagers were glad to find good customers
for the commodities they had to sell. It hence arose that, during the
later days of June, the British were well able to render nugatory all
sallies made by the enemy; they had food and beverages in good store;
and they were free from pestilential diseases. On the other hand, they
suffered intensely from the heat; and were much dissatisfied at the
small progress made towards the conquest of the city. Some expressed
their dissatisfaction by adverse criticisms on the general’s tactics;
while others admitted that a storming of Delhi would not be prudent
without further reinforcements. As to the heat, the troops wrote of it
in all their letters, spoke of it in all their narrations. One officer,
who had seventy-two hours of outpost-duty on a plain without the
slightest shelter, described his sensation in the daytime as if ‘a hot
iron had been going into his head.’ On a certain day, when some
additional troops arrived at camp after a twenty-two miles’ march, they
had scarcely lain down to rest when they were ordered out to repel an
attack by the enemy: they went, and gallantly did the work cut out for
them; but some of them ‘were so exhausted that they sank down on the
road, _even under fire_, and went off to sleep.’
July arrived. Brigadier Chamberlain had recently joined the camp, and
reinforcements were coming in; but on the other hand the rebels were
increasing their strength more rapidly than the British. The enemy began
the month by an attack which tried the prowess of the Guides and
Punjaubees, in a manner that brought great praise to those corps. In the
afternoon of the 1st, Major Reid, who was established with the
head-quarters of the Sirmoor battalion at Hindoo Rao’s house, observed
the mutineers turning out in great force from the Ajmeer and Turcoman
Gates, and assembling on the open plain outside. Then, looking round on
his rear right, he saw a large force, which was supposed to have come
out of Delhi on the previous day; comprising thirteen guns and mortars,
besides cavalry and infantry. The two forces joined about a mile from
the Eedghah Serai. At sunset 5000 or 6000 infantry advanced, passed
through the Pahareepore and Kissengunje suburbs, and approached towards
the British lines, taking cover of the buildings as they passed. The
extreme right of the line was attacked at the Pagoda picket, which was
held only by 150 Punjaubees and Guides, under Captain Travers. Major
Reid sent him a message to reserve his fire till the enemy approached
near, in order to husband his resources; while 150 British were being
collected to send to his aid. Throughout the whole night did this little
band of 300 men resist a large force of infantry and artillery, never
yielding an inch, but defending the few works which had been constructed
in that quarter. At daybreak, the enemy renewed the attacks with further
troops; but Reid brought a few more of his gallant fellows to repel
them. Evening, night, morning, noon, all passed in this way; and it was
not until the contest had continued twenty-two hours that the enemy
finally retired into the city. There may have been sufficient military
reasons why larger reinforcements were not sent to Major Reid from the
camp behind the ridge; but let the reasons have been what they may, the
handful of troops fought in the ratio of hundreds against thousands, and
never for an instant flinched during this hard day’s work. Major Reid
had the command of all the pickets and defence-works from Hindoo Rao’s
house to the Subzee Mundee. During the first twenty-eight days of the
siege, his positions were attacked no fewer than twenty-four times; yet
his singular medley of troops—Rifles, Guides, Sikhs, Punjaubees,
Goorkhas, &c.—fought as if for one common cause, without reference to
differences of religion or of nation. The officers, in these and similar
encounters, often passed through an ordeal which renders their survival
almost inconceivable. An artillery officer, in command of two
horse-artillery guns, on one occasion was surprised by 120 of the
enemy’s cavalry; he had no support, and could not apply his artillery
because his guns were limbered up. He fired four barrels of his revolver
and killed two men; and then knocked a third off his horse by throwing
his empty pistol at him. Two horsemen thereupon charged full tilt, and
rolled him and his horse over. He got up, and seeing a man on foot
coming at him to cut him down, rushed at him, got inside his sword, and
hit him full in the face with his fist. At that moment he was cut down
from behind; and was only saved from slaughter by a brother-officer, who
rode up, shot one sowar and sabred another, and then carried him off,
bleeding but safe.
On the 2d, the Bareilly mutineers—or rather Rohilcund mutineers from
Bareilly, Moradabad, and Shahjehanpoor, consisting of five regiments and
a battery of artillery—crossed the Jumna and marched into Delhi, with
bands playing and colours flying—a sight sufficiently mortifying to the
besiegers, who were powerless to prevent it; for any advance in that
direction would have left the rear of their camp exposed. It afterwards
became known that the Bareilly leader was appointed general within
Delhi. The emergence of a large body of the enemy from the city on the
night of the 3d of July, induced Sir Henry Barnard to send Major Coke to
oppose them; with a force made up of portions of the Carabiniers, 9th
Lancers, 61st foot, Guides, Punjaubees, horse and foot artillery. Coke
started at two in the morning of the 4th. He went to Azadpore, the spot
where the great road and the road from the cantonment met. He found that
the enemy had planned an expedition to seize the British depôt of stores
at Alipore, and to cut off a convoy expected to arrive from the Punjaub.
When the major came up with them near the Rohtuk road, he at once
attacked them. During many hours, his troops were confronted with
numbers greatly exceeding their own; and what with the sun above and
swamps below, the major’s men became thoroughly exhausted by the time
they returned to camp. The rebels, it was true, were driven back; but
they got safely with their guns into Delhi; and thus was one more added
to the list of contests in which the besiegers suffered without
effecting anything towards the real object of the siege. The enemy’s
infantry on this occasion seem to have comprised the Bareilly men. An
officer of the Engineers, writing concerning this day’s work, said: ‘The
Bareilly rascals had the impudence to come round to our rear, and our
only regret is that one of them ever got back. I was out with the force
sent against them, and cannot say that I felt much pity for the
red-coated villains with “18,” “28,” and “68” on their buttons.’ This
officer gives expression to the bitter feeling that prevailed generally
in the British camp against the ‘Pandies’[54] or mutinous sepoys, for
their treachery, black ingratitude, and cruelty. ‘This is a war in its
very worst phase, for generosity enters into no one’s mind. Mercy seems
to have fled from us; and if ever there was such a thing as war to the
knife, we certainly have it here. If any one owes these sepoys a grudge,
I think I have some claim to one; but I must say that I cannot bring
myself to put my sword through a wounded man. I cannot say that I grieve
much when I see it done, as it invariably is; but grieve or not as you
please—he is a clever man who can now keep back a European from driving
his bayonet through a sepoy, even in the agonies of death.’ These were
the motives and feelings that rendered the Indian mutiny much more
terrible than an ordinary war. In allusion to sentiments at home, that
the British soldiers were becoming cruel and blood-thirsty, the same
officer wrote to a friend: ‘If you hear any such sentiments, by all
means ship off their propounder to this country at once. Let him see one
half of what _we_ have seen, and compare our brutality with that of the
rebels; then send him home again, and I think you will find him pretty
quiet on the subject for the rest of his life.’
A new engineer officer, Colonel Baird Smith, arrived to supersede
another whose operations had not met with approval. The colonel took
into consideration, with his commander, a plan for blowing in the Moree
and Cashmere Gates, and escalading the Moree and Cashmere Bastions; but
the plan was abandoned on account of the weakness of the siege-army.
The 5th of July was marked by the death of Major-general Sir Henry
Barnard, who had held practical command of the Delhi field-force during
about five weeks, and had during that time borne much anxiety and
suffering. He knew that his countrymen at Calcutta as well as in England
would be continually propounding the question, ‘Why is Delhi not yet
taken?’ and the varied responsibilities connected with his position
necessarily gave him much disquietude. During the fierce heat of the 4th
he was on horseback nearly all day, directing the operations against the
Bareilly mutineers. Early on the following morning he sent for Colonel
Baird Smith, and explained his views concerning the mode in which he
thought the siege-operations should be carried on; immediately
afterwards he sent for medical aid; and before many hours had passed, he
was a corpse. Many of his friends afterwards complained that scant
justice was done to the memory of Sir Henry Barnard; in the halo that
was destined to surround the name of Wilson, men forgot that it was his
predecessor who had borne all the burden of collecting the siege-force,
of conducting it to the ridge outside Delhi, and of maintaining a
continued series of conflicts almost every day for five or six weeks.
Major-general Reed, invalid as he was, immediately took the command of
the force after Barnard’s death; leaving, however, the active direction
mainly to Brigadier Chamberlain. It became every day more and more
apparent that, notwithstanding reinforcements, the British artillery was
too weak to cope with that of the enemy—whose artillerymen, taught by
those whom they now opposed, had become very skilful; and whose guns
were of heavier metal. The besiegers’ batteries were still nearly a mile
from the walls, for any nearer position could not be taken up without
terrible loss. To effect a breach with a few 18-pounders at this
distance was out of the question; and although the field-guns were
twenty or thirty in number, they were nearly useless for battering down
defences.
The attacks from the enemy continued much as before, but resistance to
them became complicated by a new difficulty. There were two regiments of
Bengal irregular cavalry among the troops in the siege-army, and there
were a few ‘Poorbeahs’ or Hindustanis in the Punjaub regiments. These
men were carefully watched from the first; and it became by degrees
apparent that they were a danger instead of an aid to the British. Early
in the month a Brahmin subadar in a Punjaubee regiment was detected
inciting his companions-in-arms to murder their officers, and go over to
Delhi, saying it was God’s will the Feringhee ‘raj’ should cease. One of
the Punjaubees immediately revealed this plot to the officers, and the
incendiary was put to death that same evening. The other Poorbeahs in
the regiment were at once paid up, and discharged from the
camp—doubtless swelling the number of insurgents who entered Delhi.
Again, on the 9th, a party of the enemy’s cavalry, while attempting an
attack on the camp, was joined by some of the 9th irregulars belonging
to the siege-army, and with them tried to tempt the men of the native
horse-artillery. They were beaten back; and the afternoon of the same
day, the 9th of July, was marked by one of the many struggles in the
Subzee Mundee, all of which ended by the enemy being driven into Delhi.
If the rebel infantry had fought as well as the artillery, it might have
gone hard with the besiegers, for the sallies were generally made in
very great force. The rebels counted much on the value of the Subzee
Mundee; as a suburb, it had been rendered a mass of ruins by repeated
conflicts, and these ruins precisely suited the sepoy mode of fighting.
The sepoys found shelter in narrow streets and old houses, and behind
garden-walls, besides being protected by heavy guns from the city. In
this kind of skirmishing they were not far inferior to their opponents;
but in the open field, and especially under a charge with the bayonet,
they were invariably beaten, let the disparity of numbers be what it
might. All the officers, in their letters, spoke of the terrible
efficacy of the British bayonet; the sepoys became paralysed with terror
when this mode of attack was resorted to. On one occasion they were
constructing a defensive post at the Eedghah; the British attacked it
and drove in the entrance; there was no exit on the other side, and the
defenders were all bayoneted in the prison-house which they had thus
unwittingly constructed for themselves.
On the morning of the 14th, the mutineers poured out in great numbers,
and attacked the batteries at Hindoo Rao’s house, and the picket in the
Subzee Mundee. The troops stationed at those places remained on the
defensive till three o’clock in the afternoon, struggling against a
force consisting of many regiments of insurgent infantry, a large body
of cavalry, and several field-pieces. It was indeed a most determined
attack, supported, moreover, by a fire of heavy artillery from the
walls. Why it was that so many hours elapsed before succour was sent
forth, is not very clear; but the troops who had to bear the brunt of
this onslaught comprised only detachments of the 60th and 75th foot,
with the Goorkhas of the Sirmoor battalion and the infantry of the
Guides. A column was formed, however, at the house above named, under
Brigadier Showers, consisting of the 1st Punjaub infantry, the 1st
Europeans, and six horse-artillery guns. Then commenced a double
contest; Showers attacking the enemy at the picket-house, and Major Reid
at Hindoo Rao’s house. After a fierce struggle the enemy were driven
back into the city, and narrowly escaped losing some of their guns. It
was a day’s work that could not be accomplished without a serious loss.
None of the officers, it is true, were killed in the field; but the list
of wounded was very large, comprising Brigadier Chamberlain (at that
time adjutant-general of the army), and Lieutenants Roberts, Thompson,
Walker, Geneste, Carnegie, Rivers, Faithful, Daniell, Ross, Tulloch,
Chester, Shebbeare, Hawes, Debrett, and Pollock. Tho wounding of so many
subalterns shews how actively different companies of troops must have
been engaged. Altogether, the operations of this day brought down 15 men
killed and 193 officers and men wounded.
The heat was by this time somewhat alleviated by rains, which, however,
brought sickness and other discomforts with them. Men fell ill after
remaining many hours in damp clothes; and it was found that the fierce
heat was, after all, not so detrimental to health. Many young officers,
it is true, lately arrived from England, and not yet acclimatised, were
smitten down by sun-stroke, and a few died of apoplexy; but it is
nevertheless true that the army was surprisingly healthy during the hot
weather. One of the Carabiniers, writing in the rainy season, said: ‘The
last three days have been exceedingly wet; notwithstanding which we are
constantly in the saddle; no sooner has one alarm subsided than we are
turned out to meet the mutineers in another quarter.’ An officer of
Sappers, employed in blowing up a bridge, said: ‘We started about two
P.M., and returned about twelve at night drenched through and thoroughly
miserable, it having rained the whole time.’
The state of affairs in the middle of July was peculiar. It seemed to
the nation at home that the army of Delhi ought to be strong enough to
retake the city, especially when a goodly proportion of the number were
Europeans. Yet that this was not the case, was the opinion both of Reed
and of Wilson; although many daring spirits in the army longed to breach
the walls and take the place by storm. Twelve hundred wounded and sick
men had to be tended; all the others were kept fully employed in
repelling the sallies of the enemy. Major-general Reed, who ought never
to have assumed the command at all—so broken-down was he in health—gave
in altogether on the 17th, after the wounding of Chamberlain; he named
Brigadier Wilson, who had brought forward the Meerut brigade, as his
successor. The new commander immediately wrote to Sir John Lawrence a
letter (in French, as if distrusting spies), in which he candidly
announced that it would be dangerous and disastrous to attempt a storm
of the city; that the enemy were in great force, well armed, strong in
position, and constantly reinforced by accessions of insurgent
regiments; that they daily attacked the British, who could do little
more than repel the attacks; that his army was gradually diminishing by
these daily losses; that it would be impossible to take Delhi without at
least one more European regiment and two more Sikh regiments from the
Punjaub; and that if those additions did not speedily reach him, he
would be obliged to raise the siege, retreat to Kurnaul, and leave the
country all around Delhi to be ravaged by the mutineers. This letter
shewed the gravity with which Brigadier Wilson regarded the state of
matters at that critical time. Lawrence fully recognised the importance
of the issue, for he redoubled his exertions to send 900 European
Fusiliers and 1600 Punjaubees to the camp.
General Reed’s resignation was twofold. He resigned the provisional
command-in-chief of the Bengal army as soon as he was officially
informed of the assumption of that office by Sir Patrick Grant; and he
resigned the command of the Delhi field-force to Brigadier Wilson,
because his health was too far broken to permit him to take part in
active duties. It was the virtual ending of his part in the wars of the
mutiny; he went to the hills, in search of that health which he could
never have recovered in the plains.
Among the many contests in the second half of the month was one near
Ludlow Castle, a name given to the residence of Mr Fraser, the
commissioner of Delhi, one of those foully murdered on the 11th of May.
This house was within half a mile of the Cashmere Gate, near the river;
the enemy were found to be occupying it; but their works were attacked
and destroyed by a force under Brigadier Showers; while Sir T.
Metcalfe’s house, further northward, was taken and strengthened as a
defensive post by the British.
Mr Colvin, writing from Agra to Havelock on the 22d of July, giving an
account of such proceedings at Delhi as had come to his knowledge, made
the following observations on the character which the struggle had
assumed: ‘The spirit by which both Hindoos and Mohammedans act together
at Delhi is very remarkable. You would well understand a gathering of
Mohammedan fanatical feeling at that place; but what is locally, I find,
known by the name of “Pandyism,” is just as strong. Pandies are, among
the Hindoos, all Brahmins. What absurd, distorted suspicions of our
intentions (which have been so perfectly innocent towards them) may have
been first worked upon, it is scarcely possible to say; but the thing
has now got beyond this, and it is a struggle for mastery, not a
question of mistrust or discontent. Mohammedans seem to be actively
misleading Hindoos for their own purposes. Sir Patrick Grant will not
know the Bengal army again. The Goorkhas, Sikhs, and Punjaubee
Mohammedans have remained quite faithful, and done their duty nobly at
Delhi; the bad spirit is wholly with the Poorbeahs.’ Mr Greathed,
Colvin’s commissioner with the siege-army, made every attempt to
ascertain, by means of spies and deserters, what were the alleged and
what the real motives for the stubborn resistance of the mutineers to
British rule. He wrote on this subject: ‘The result of all questionings
of sepoys who have fallen into our hands, regarding the cause of the
mutiny, is the same. They invariably cite the “cartouche” (cartridge) as
the origin; no other cause of complaint has been alluded to. His majesty
of Delhi has composed a couplet, to the effect that the English, who
boast of having vanquished rods of iron, have been overthrown in
Hindostan by a single cartridge. A consciousness of power had grown up
in the army, which could only be exercised by mutiny. The cry of the
cartridges brought the latent spirit of revolt into action.’ Mr Muir of
Agra, commenting on these remarks, said: ‘I fully believe this to be the
case with the main body of the sepoys. There were ringleaders, no doubt,
who had selfish views, and possibly held correspondence with the Delhi
family, &c.; but they made use of the cartridge as their argument to
gain over the mass of the army to the belief that their caste was
threatened.’
[Illustration:
GENERAL WILSON.
]
It will be unnecessary to trace day by day the struggles outside Delhi.
They continued as before; but the frequency was somewhat lessened, and
the danger also, for the defence-works on the ridge had been much
strengthened. Every bridge over the canal was blown up, except that on
the main road to Kurnaul and Umballa; and thus the enemy could not
easily attack the camp in the rear. It was not yet really a siege, for
the British poured very few shot or shell into the city or against the
walls. It was not an investment; for the British could not send a single
regiment to the southwest, south, or east of the city. It was little
more than a process of _waiting_ till further reinforcements could
arrive.
At the close of July, Brigadier Wilson forwarded to the government a
very exact account of the state of his army, shewing what were his
resources for maintaining the siege on the one hand, and repelling
attacks by the enemy on the other. We present the chief particulars in a
foot-note, in an altered and more condensed form.[55] It appears that
out of this army of something more than 8000 men, above 1100 were
rendered non-effective by sickness or wounds; that of the whole number
of effectives, just about one-half were Europeans, belonging either to
the Queen’s or to the Company’s army; and that no European corps, except
perhaps the Lancers, comprised more than a fractional percentage of a
full regiment. A return sent in about the middle of the month had
comprised 300 men of the 4th and 17th Bengal irregular cavalry; but the
omission of this element at the end of the month shewed that those
dangerous companions had been got rid of. The corps of Guides and
Goorkhas had in a fortnight diminished from an aggregate number of 923
to 571—so rapidly had those gallant men been brought down by balls,
bullets, and cholera. Ranked among the artillery and engineers were many
hundred syces and bildars, natives who merely aided in certain labouring
operations; and among the Sappers and Miners the Punjaubees were only
just learning their trade.
[Illustration:
Engineer Officers in Battery before Delhi.
]
The casualty list of officers was a very serious one. From the time when
Brigadier Wilson encountered the enemy at Ghazeeoodeen Nuggur at the end
of May, till he made up his report at the end of July, the officers who
were killed or wounded were 101 in number. Anson, Barnard, Reed,
Chamberlain, Halifax, Graves—nearly all the general officers except
Wilson and Showers, were either dead or in some way disabled; and these
frequent changes in command doubtless affected the organisation and
movements of the army.
Brigadier Wilson made every attempt, while doing the best he could with
his own forces, to ascertain the number and components of those
possessed by the enemy. Military commanders always aim at the
acquisition of such knowledge, effected by a species of espionage which,
however opposed to general feeling at other times, is deemed quite fair
in war. From the 11th of May, when the troubles began in Delhi, to the
end of July, there arrived in the city mutinous regiments from Meerut,
Hansi, Muttra, Lucknow, Nuseerabad, Jullundur, Ferozpore, Bareilly,
Jhansi, Gwalior, Neemuch, Allygurh, Agra, Rohtuk, Jhuggur, and
Allahabad. The list given in a note[56] is taken from the official
dispatch, which was itself a record of information obtained from various
native sources; but after making allowance for the fact that portions
only of many of the regiments had entered Delhi, and that the numbers
had been considerably lessened by the thirty or more encounters which
had taken place outside the walls, the military authorities brought down
the supposed number to a much lower limit than had before been
named—namely, 4000 disciplined cavalry, and 12,000 infantry, besides
3000 undisciplined levies. The rebels retained the formidable defensive
artillery which they found in Delhi, and brought thirty field-guns also
with them; but these guns were lessened in number one-half by successive
seizures made by the British.
The condition and proceedings of the rebels within the city could, of
course, be known only imperfectly. The old king was looked up to by all
as the centre of authority, but it is probable that his real power was
small. Where regiments had arrived from so many different quarters, we
may suppose that the apportionment of military command was no easy
matter; and indeed there was, throughout, little evidence that the rebel
force had one head, one leader whose plans were obeyed by all. The
_Lahore Chronicle_ some time afterwards printed a narrative by a native,
of a residence in Delhi from the 13th to the 30th of July. Such
narratives can seldom be relied on; but so far as it went, this
revelation spoke of great discord among the leaders; great discontent
among the troops because their pay was in arrear; great perplexity on
the part of the old king because he had not funds enough to pay so large
an army; and great plundering of the citizens by the rude soldiery, who
deemed themselves masters of the situation. ‘When the sepoys,’ said this
native, ‘find out a rich house in the city, they accuse the owner after
the following manner, in order to plunder his property. They take a loaf
of bread and a bottle of grog with them, and make a noise at the door
and break it in pieces, get into the house, take possession of the cash
and valuables, and beat the poor householder, saying: “Where is the
Englishman you have been keeping in your house?” When he denies having
done so, they just shew him the bread and the bottle, and say: “How is
it that we happened to find these in your house? We are quite sure there
was an Englishman accommodated here, whom you quietly sent elsewhere
before our arrival.” Soon after, the talk is over, and the poor man is
disgracefully put into custody, where there is no inquiry made to prove
whether he is innocent or guilty; he cannot get his release unless he
bribes the general.’ The known attributes of oriental cunning give a
strong probability to this curious story.
* * * * *
Here, for the present, we take leave of the siege of Delhi, and of the
stage at which it had arrived by the end of July. Much has to be
narrated, in reference to other places, other generals, other
operations, before the final capture of the imperial city will call for
description.
[Illustration:
Bullock-wagon.
]
-----
Footnote 46:
Grenadiers.
Footnote 47:
Rifles.
Footnote 48:
The first troop of horse-artillery was called Leslie’s Troop.
Footnote 49:
The troops at Umballa on the 17th comprised:
Queen’s 75th foot. } Weak: only 1800
1st Bengal European Fusiliers. } bayonets in all.
2d Bengal European Fusiliers. }
5th Bengal native infantry.
60th Bengal native infantry.
Queen’s 9th Lancers.
4th Bengal cavalry.
Two troops European horse-artillery.
Footnote 50:
1st Umballa { Queen’s 75th foot.
Brigade. { 1st Bengal Europeans.
Brigadier Halifax. { Two squadrons 9th Lancers.
{ One troop horse artillery.
{ 2d Bengal Europeans.
2d Umballa { 60th native infantry.
Brigade. { Two squadrons 9th Lancers.
Brigadier Jones. { One squadron 4th Bengal Lancers.
{ One troop horse-artillery.
{ One wing Queen’s 60th Rifles.
Meerut { Two squadrons Carabiniers.
Brigade. { One light field-battery.
Brigadier Wilson. { One troop horse-artillery.
{ Native Sappers (if reliable).
{ 120 artillerymen.
Footnote 51:
Four guns of Major Tombs’ horse-artillery.
Major Scott’s horse field-battery.
Two 18-pounders, under Lieutenant Light.
Two squadrons of Carabiniers.
Six companies of 60th Rifles.
400 Sirmoor Goorkhas.
Footnote 52:
Head-quarters and six companies of H.M. 60th Rifles.
Head-quarters and nine companies of H.M. 75th foot.
1st Bengal European Fusiliers.
2d Bengal European Fusiliers head-qurs. and six companies.
Sirmoor battalion (Goorkhas), a wing.
Head-quarters detachment Sappers and Miners.
H.M. 9th Lancers.
H.M. 6th Dragoon-guards (Carabiniers), two squadrons.
Horse-artillery, one troop of 1st brigade.
Horse-artillery, two troops of 3d brigade.
Foot-artillery, two companies,
and No. 14 horse-battery.
Artillery recruits, detachment.
Footnote 53:
Chapter iv., pp. 63-65.
Footnote 54:
After the execution of Mungal Pandy at Barrackpore on the 8th of
April, for mutiny, the rebel sepoys acquired the soubriquet of
‘Pandies’—especially those belonging to the Brahmin caste.
Footnote 55:
_Infantry_— Officers
and Men.
H.M. 8th foot, head-quarters, 188
H.M. 61st foot, head-quarters, 296
H.M. 75th foot, head-quarters, 513
H.M. 60th Rifles, head-quarters, 299
1st European Bengal Fusiliers, 520
2d European Bengal Fusiliers, 556
Guide Infantry, 275
Sirmoor battalion, Goorkhas, 296
1st Punjaub Infantry, 725
4th Sikh Infantry, 345
———— = 4023
_Cavalry_—
H.M. Carabiniers, 153
H.M. 9th Lancers, 428
Guide Cavalry, 338
1st Punjaub Cavalry, 148
2d Punjaub Cavalry, 110
5th Punjaub Cavalry, (at Alipore), 116
———— = 1293
_Artillery and Engineers_—
Artillery, European and Native, 1129
Bengal Sappers and Miners, 209
Punjaub Sappers and Miners, 264
———— = 1602
————
6918
Besides these effectives, there were as non-effectives, 765 sick + 351
wounded = 1116.
Footnote 56:
Bengal native infantry: 3d, 9th, 11th, 12th, 15th, 20th, 28th, 29th,
30th, 36th, 38th, 44th, 45th, 54th, 57th, 60th, 61st, 67th, 68th, 72d,
74th, 78th.
Other native infantry: 5th and 7th Gwalior Contingent, Kotah
Contingent, Hurrianah battalion; together with 2600 miscellaneous
infantry.
Native cavalry: Portions of five or six regiments, besides others of
the Gwalior and Malwah Contingents.
[Illustration:
SIR HENRY HAVELOCK.
]
CHAPTER XV.
HAVELOCK’S CAMPAIGN: ALLAHABAD TO LUCKNOW.
If there be one name that stands out in brighter colours than any other
connected with the mutiny in India, perhaps it is that of Henry
Havelock. There are peculiar reasons for this. He came like a brilliant
meteor at a time when all else was gloomy and overshadowed. Anson had
died on the way to Delhi; Barnard had died in the camp before that city;
Reed had retired, broken down by age and sickness; Wilson had not yet
shewn whether he could work out victory at the great Mogul capital;
Wheeler was falling, or had fallen, a miserable victim to the treachery
of Nena Sahib; Henry Lawrence was no more; Hewett and Lloyd were under a
cloud, for mismanagement as military commanders—all this had rendered
the British nation grieved and irritated; and men fiercely demanded
‘Who’s to blame?’—as if it were necessary to seek relief by wreaking
vengeance on some persons or other. It was a crisis that pressed heavily
on Viscount Canning; but it was at the same time a crisis that insured
fervid gratitude to any general who could achieve victories with small
means. Such a general was Havelock. The English public knew little of
him, although he was well known in India. Commencing his career as a
soldier in 1816, Henry Havelock had borne his full share in all a
soldier’s varied fortune. He went to India in 1823; engaged in the
Burmese war in 1824; took part in a mission to the court of Siam in
1826; was promoted from lieutenant to captain in 1838; took an active
share in the stirring scenes of the Afghan campaign, which brought him a
brevet majority, and the order of C. B.; acted as Persian interpreter to
generals Elphinstone, Pollock, and Gough; fought at Gwalior in 1843;
became brevet lieutenant-colonel in 1844; fought with the bravest in
1845 at Moodkee, Ferozshah, and Sobraon; and in 1846 received the
appointment of deputy adjutant-general of the Queen’s troops at Bombay.
An Indian climate during so many years having told—in its customary sad
way—on his constitution, Henry Havelock returned for a sojourn in
England. Returning to Bombay in 1851, he became brevet colonel; and in
after years he was appointed quarter-master-general, and then
adjutant-general, of the whole of the Queen’s troops in India. When the
war with Persia broke out, he took command of one of the divisions in
1857; and when that war was ended, he returned to Bombay. All this was
known to official persons in India, but very few of the particulars were
familiar to the general public in the home-country; hence, when
Havelock’s victories were announced, the public were surprised as if by
the sudden appearance of a great genius. That he bore so heavy a
responsibility, or suffered such intense mental anxiety, as Wheeler at
Cawnpore, Inglis at Lucknow, or Colvin at Agra, is not probable; for he
had not hundreds of helpless women and children under his charge; but
the astonishing victories he achieved with a mere handful of men, and
the moral influence he thereby acquired for the British name throughout
the whole of the Doab, well entitled him to the outburst of grateful
feeling which the nation was not slow to exhibit. The only danger was,
lest this hero-worship should render the nation blind for a time to the
merits of other generals.
Neill and Havelock, who worked so energetically together in planning the
relief of Lucknow, were brought from other regions of India to take part
in the operations on the Ganges. Neill, as colonel of the 1st Madras
European Fusiliers, accompanied that regiment to Calcutta, and thence
proceeded up the country to Benares, where his contest with the rebels
first began. Havelock, landing at Bombay from Persia, set off by steam
to go to Calcutta; he was wrecked on the way near Ceylon, and
experienced much perilous adventure before he could proceed on his
journey. At Calcutta—where he arrived, in the same steamer which brought
Sir Patrick Grant, on the 17th of June—he received the appointment of
brigadier-general,[57] to command such a force as could be hastily
collected for the relief, first of the Europeans at Cawnpore, and then
of those at Lucknow; and it was towards the close of June that he made
his appearance at Allahabad.
Sufficient has been stated in former chapters to shew what was the state
of affairs at that time. Lucknow, Cawnpore, Agra, and Delhi were either
in the hands of the rebels, or were so beset by them that no British
commander was able to assist his brother-officers. Oude, the Doab, and
Rohilcund were in deplorable anarchy; and it depended either upon
Viscount Canning at Calcutta, or Sir John Lawrence at Lahore, to send
aid to the disturbed districts. Lawrence, as we have seen, and as we
shall see again in a future chapter, with admirable energy and
perseverance, sent such assistance as enabled Wilson to conquer Delhi;
while Canning, under enormous difficulty, sent up troops to Allahabad by
scores and fifties at a time, as rapidly as he could collect them at
Calcutta.
Brigadier Neill preceded Havelock in the operations connected with the
repression of the mutiny in the Doab and adjacent regions. His own
regiment, the 1st Madras European Fusiliers, had been ordered to proceed
to Persia in the spring, but had received counter-orders in consequence
of the sudden termination of the war in that country. While at Bombay,
uncertain whether commands might be received to proceed to China, the
regiment heard the news of a revolt among the Bengal troops; and very
speedily, both Persia and China were forgotten in matters of much
greater exigency and importance. After making the voyage back from
Bombay to Madras, the regiment proceeded to Calcutta, and the men were
then sent up the country as rapidly as possible to Benares, some by road
and the rest by steamers. Neill himself reached that city on the 3d of
June, and was immediately engaged, as we have already seen (p. 154), in
disarming a mutinous regiment, and in maintaining order in the vicinity.
After six days of incessant work at Benares, the brigadier, hearing of
the mutiny at Allahabad, started off on the 9th to render service in
that region. With what a powerful hand he put down the rebels; with what
stern and prompt firmness he retained possession of that important city,
the ‘key to Upper India’—has already been briefly shewn.[58] The various
corps of the Madras Fusiliers reached Benares and Allahabad by degrees;
and fragments of other European regiments were sent up as fast as
possible, as the nucleus of a little army forming at Allahabad.
The 1st of July may be taken as the day that marked the commencement of
General Havelock’s career in relation to the Indian Revolt. He and his
staff arrived at Allahabad on that day, after a rapid journey from
Calcutta. A few hours before his arrival, the first relieving column had
been sent off by Neill towards Cawnpore: consisting of 200 Madras
Fusiliers, 200 of the 84th foot, 300 Sikhs, and 120 irregular cavalry,
under Major Renaud; and a second, of larger proportions, was to follow
in a week or ten days’ time. The immediate object held in view, in the
march of both columns, was to liberate Sir Hugh Wheeler and his hapless
companions at Cawnpore; and, if this were accomplished, the second work
to be done was to advance and relieve Sir Henry Lawrence and the British
at Lucknow. It was not at that time known that, before the second column
could start from Allahabad, both Wheeler and Lawrence had been numbered
with the dead. Neill superseded the officer previously in command at
Allahabad; Havelock superseded Neill in command of the relieving force;
we shall have to speak of Outram superseding Havelock; and we have
already spoken of Patrick Grant superseding Reed, and of Colin Campbell
superseding Grant. All these supersessions were in virtue of military
routine, depending either on seniority, or on the exercise of a right to
make appointments. If these various officers had been unsuccessful, the
system of supersession would have been attacked by adverse judges as the
cause of the failure; but there was so much nobility of mind displayed
by four or five of the gallant men here named, that the vexation often
caused by supersession was much alleviated; while the nation at large
had ample reason to admire and be thankful for the deeds of arms that
accompanied generosity of feeling.
On the 3d, an auxiliary force under Captain Spurgin, left Allahabad for
Cawnpore, irrespective of the two columns. It consisted only of 100
Madras Europeans armed with rifles, 12 artillerymen, and two 6-pounder
guns; it went by steamer up the Ganges, partly in order to control the
mutineers on the banks, but in part also on account of the paucity of
means for land-conveyance. No steamer had had much success in that part
of the Ganges; and hence great interest was felt in the voyage of the
_Brahmaputra_. As a first difficulty, the engineers, having no coals,
were obliged to forage for wood every day on shore. On the second day of
the trip, this foraging had to be protected by half the force, against a
body of 500 insurgents on the Oude bank, provided with a large piece of
ordnance; the wood was not obtained without a regular battle, in which
50 English ‘thrashed’—to use a very favourite term among the
soldiers—just ten times their number of rebels, and captured their gun.
On they went, struggling against the rapid stream of the Ganges, and
never making more than two miles an hour. The enemy hovered on the
banks, and sent several round shot into the little iron steamer—a sort
of irritation that kept the crew and soldiers well on the alert. Day
after day passed in this way, Captain Spurgin timing his movements so as
to accord with the march of the land-columns. The steamer reached
Cawnpore on the 17th, just a fortnight after the departure from
Allahabad—a degree of slowness not altogether dependent on the
difficulty of the navigation, but partly due to the necessity of not
advancing more rapidly than the columns could fight their way on shore.
The dismal news gradually reached Allahabad that some dreadful calamity
had occurred at Cawnpore. This information led Havelock to modify his
plans and quicken his movements; and, full of heart, he transmitted to
Calcutta the telegram already quoted, to the effect that ‘1000
Europeans, 1000 Goorkhas, and 1000 Sikhs, with 8 or 10 guns, will thrash
everything.’ Among the troops he collected was a handful of volunteer
cavalry, consisting chiefly of officers who had been left without
command by the mutiny of their respective native regiments, or had
narrowly escaped massacre; the number amounted only to a score; but it
comprised just the sort of men who would be ready for any enterprise at
such a time.
Major Renaud had every reason to be satisfied with the gallantry of the
Madras Fusiliers—to which corps he belonged—and of the other troops who
aided in forming his small column, in various minor operations during
the first nine days of the march from Allahabad. He everywhere pacified
the country by punishing the ringleaders in mutiny and rebellion
wherever and whenever they fell into his hands. Suddenly, however, he
found himself placed in an awkward position on the 10th. Cawnpore had
fallen; the British at that station had either been killed or thrown
into prison; and the rebel force thus freed from occupation had rapidly
pushed down to the vicinity of Futtehpoor—a town which had been in the
hands of the rebels since the 9th of June (see p. 172). That force was
at least 3500 strong, with 12 guns; whereas Renaud had at that time only
820 men and 2 guns. General Havelock, becoming aware of this state of
things, saw that his force ought to join that of Renaud as quickly as
possible. He marched twenty miles on the 11th, under a frightful sun, to
Synee; then, after resting a few hours, he and his troops resumed their
march at eleven o’clock in the evening, overtook Renaud during the
night, and marched with him by moonlight to Khaga, five miles short of
Futtehpoor. His little army consisted of about 2000 men, made up of a
curious collection of fragments from various regiments; and as it was
destined to achieve great results with limited resources, it may be
interesting to tabulate the component elements of this admirable little
band.[59] Havelock’s information proved to be better than that of the
enemy, for when he sent forward Colonel Tytler with a reconnaissance,
the enemy supposed they had only Renaud’s small force to contend with;
they fired on the colonel and his escort, and pushed forward two guns
and a force of infantry and cavalry. When the enemy began to cannonade
his front and threaten his right and left, Havelock saw that the time
was come to undeceive them: he would have preferred to give his worn-out
soldiers a few hours’ rest; but this was not now to be thought of, as,
to use his own words, ‘it would have injured the _morale_ of the troops
to permit them thus to be bearded.’ The work before him was sufficiently
formidable; for there was only the main trunk-road by which to approach
Futtehpoor easily; the fields on either side were covered with a depth
of two or three feet of water; there were many enclosures of great
strength, with high walls; and in front of the city were many villages,
hillocks, and mango-groves which the enemy occupied in force. Havelock
placed his eight guns on and near the main road, protected by 100
riflemen of the 64th; the infantry came up at deploying distance,
covered by rifle-skirmishers; and the cavalry moved forward on the
flanks. The struggle was literally decided in ten minutes. The enemy saw
a few riflemen approach; but they knew little of the Enfield rifle; and
were panic-stricken with the length and accuracy of its range; they
shrank back in astonishment; and then Captain Maude, who had dashed over
the swamps with his artillery, poured into them a fire so rapid and
accurate as to complete their discomfiture. Three guns were abandoned at
once, and Havelock steadily advanced, with the 64th commanding the
centre, the 78th the right, the 84th and the Sikhs the left. He drove
the enemy before him at every point, capturing their guns one by one;
the garden enclosures, the barricades on the road, the city wall, the
streets of Futtehpoor, all were gained in turn. The enemy retreated
right through the city, till they reached a mile beyond it; but they
then attempted to make a stand. This attempt gave Havelock some trouble,
because his infantry were almost utterly exhausted by fatigue, and
because the few irregular horse shewed symptoms of a tendency to go over
to the enemy unless narrowly watched. Again the guns and rifles came to
the front, and again they attacked in a manner so irresistible as to put
the enemy effectively to flight. Havelock thus became master of
Futtehpoor, and parked 12 captured guns. It was with a justifiable pride
that the general, in sending his list of ‘casualties,’ remarked that it
was ‘perhaps the lightest that ever accompanied the announcement of such
success. Twelve British soldiers were struck down by the sun, and never
rose again;’ but not one was either killed or wounded in the action; his
casualties, 6 killed and 3 wounded, were among his native troops. The
truth seems to be, that the enemy were dismayed, first by finding that
Havelock had joined Renaud, and then by the wonderful range of the
Enfield rifles. ‘Our fight was fought neither with musket, nor bayonet,
nor sabre, but with Enfield rifles and cannon; so we took no prisoners.
The enemy’s fire scarcely reached us; ours, for four hours, allowed him
no repose.’ It was with good cause that he thanked and congratulated his
troops on the following day, in a ‘morning order,’ short but pithy.[60]
While encamped at Kullenpore or Kullianpore, on the 14th, to which he
had marched after a sojourn at Futtehpoor sufficient to afford his
troops that rest which had become absolutely necessary, Havelock sent
off a brief telegram, announcing that his capture of artillery at
Futtehpoor would enable him to substitute nine excellent field-guns for
six of lighter calibre, and also to bring into action two light
6-pounders.
This, then, was the brigadier-general’s first victory over the rebels;
it elated his own troops, and checked the audacity of those to whom he
was opposed. Neill, meanwhile, was anxiously watching at Allahabad. He
had worked hard to organise and send off the first portion of the force
under Renaud, the second under Spurgin, and the third under Havelock. He
had received from Renaud, on the 4th of the month, information which
rendered only too probable the rumour that an act of black treachery on
the part of Nena Sahib at Cawnpore had been followed by a wholesale
destruction of hapless fugitives in boats on the Ganges. Neill was thus
especially anxious that Renaud should advance at once with the first
column, and Spurgin with the detachment up the river; but Havelock saw
reason why those officers should somewhat delay their advance until he
could come up to them, in order that all might if possible enter
Cawnpore together.
Havelock, after marching and resting on the 13th and 14th, came up again
with the enemy on the 15th. When approaching the small stream called the
Pandoo Nuddee, it became important to him to ascertain what was the
state of the bridge which carried the high road over that river, at a
spot about twenty miles from Cawnpore. The stream was too deep to be
fordable at that season: hence the importance of obtaining command of
the bridge. His intelligencers ascertained that the enemy intended to
dispute his passage at the village of Aong, four miles short of the
Nuddee; by means of two guns commanding the high road, skirmishers on
the right and left of those guns, and cavalry to hover on the flanks of
any advancing force. This information being obtained, Havelock sent
forward his skirmishers on the right and left of the road; then his
volunteer cavalry on the road itself; then the ten guns in line, mostly
on the left of the road; and then the infantry in line—the 64th and 84th
on the right flank; the 78th, Fusiliers, and Sikhs, on the left. The
struggle ahead was not a severe one, for the enemy receded as the
British under Colonel Tytler advanced; but Havelock was much harassed by
the attempts of the hostile cavalry to get into his rear and plunder his
baggage: attempts that required much exertion from his infantry to
resist, seeing that the thickly wooded country interfered with the
effect of cannon and musketry. The enemy after a time abandoned guns,
tents, ammunition, and other materials of war, and made a hasty retreat
through the village.
This difficulty over, Havelock prepared for another struggle at the
Pandoo Nuddee, which it was necessary for him to cross as speedily as
possible. He rested and refreshed his troops for a few hours, and
advanced the same afternoon, on a fiercely hot July day. The enemy had
not destroyed the bridge, but had placed two guns in épaulement to
command it at the opposite side of the stream. Captain Maude disposed
his artillery so as to bring a converging fire upon the two guns of the
enemy; while the Madras Fusiliers commenced a fire with Enfield rifles
to pick off the gunners. The two guns were fired directly down the road
at the advancing British column; but after Maude had somewhat checked
this fire, the Fusiliers gallantly closed, rushed upon the bridge, and
captured both guns—an exploit in which Major Renaud was wounded. The
mutineers precipitately retreated. Thus did the brigadier-general
achieve two victories in one day—those of Aong and Pandoo Nuddee. True,
the victories were not great in a military sense; but they were effected
over a numerous force by a mere handful of troops, who fought after
wearying marches under a solar heat such as residents in England can
with difficulty imagine. Havelock had only 1 man killed during these two
actions; 25 were wounded. The loss of the enemy was at least ten times
greater; but the chief result of the battles was the dismay into which
Nena Sahib was thrown.
General Havelock, like other commanders at that critical time, found the
native Bengal troops in his force not to be trusted. Their conduct in
presence of the enemy on the 12th excited his suspicion; it was, indeed,
worse than doubtful; and on the 14th he found it necessary to disarm and
dismount his sowars of the 13th Irregulars and 3d Oude Irregulars—at the
same time threatening with instant death any one of their number who
should attempt to escape. One of the officers at Allahabad who joined
the volunteer cavalry, and had opportunity of observing the conduct of
the irregulars at the battle of Futtehpoor, wrote thus concerning it:
‘On seeing the enemy, Palliser called to the men to charge, and dashed
on; but the scoundrels scarcely altered their speed, and met the enemy
at the same pace that they came down towards us. Their design was
evident; they came waving their swords to our men, and riding round our
party, making signs to them to go over to their side. When our men thus
hung back, a dash out would certainly have ended in our being cut up.’
During a subsequent skirmish, ‘our rear-men turned tail and left us,
galloping back as hard as their horses could go; and we were forced to
commence a regular race for our necks.... I write this with shame and
grief; but it was no fault of Palliser’s or ours.’ Havelock saw the
necessity of disarming and dismounting such fellows.
The scene of operations now approaches Cawnpore, that city of
unutterable horrors! It was a desperate struggle that Nena Sahib made to
retain the supremacy he had obtained at Cawnpore. He probably cared
little for kings of Delhi or for greased cartridges, provided he could
maintain a hold of sovereign power. When he had broken faith with Sir
Hugh Wheeler, and had carried his treachery to the extent of
indiscriminate slaughter in the Ganges boats, he naturally hoped to
become leader of the rebellious sepoys. In this object, however, he did
not wholly succeed; he and his immediate followers were Mahrattas; the
mutineers were mostly Hindustanis; and the latter made little account of
the Nena’s claim to sovereignty. Had the issue depended upon the
infantry sepoys, who were in chief part Hindoos, and who chiefly looked
for plunder, his projects might speedily have come to an end; but the
cavalry sepoys, being mostly Mohammedans, and exhibiting a more deadly
hatred towards the British, more readily joined him in a combined plan
of operations, and drew the sepoys to act with them. Leaving Delhi to be
held by the large body of mutineers, Nena Sahib took upon himself the
office of crushing any British force that might make its appearance from
Allahabad. When he heard that Renaud had started with his little band,
he got together a force of sowars, sepoys, Mahrattas, artillery, and
rabble; having motives of fear as well as of self-interest to induce him
to prevent the advance of his opponent. Not knowing that Renaud had been
joined by Havelock, the Mahratta chieftain sent bodies of troops
sufficient, as he believed, to check the advance; but when the gallant
general swept everything before him, the arch-fiend of Bithoor saw that
the matter was becoming serious. He had had experience of the
indomitable resistance, under accumulated suffering, of the hapless Sir
Hugh Wheeler and his companions; but now a British general had to be
encountered in the open field. So far as is known, it appears that as
soon as he heard of the passage of the Pandoo Nuddee by Havelock, Nena
Sahib ordered the slaughter of all the captives yet remaining alive at
Cawnpore—in order either that the dead might tell no tales, or that he
might wreak vengeance on the innocent for the frustration of his plans.
Having committed this bloody deed, he went out with an army, and took up
a position at Aherwa, the point at which the road to the cantonment
branches out from the main trunk-road to Cawnpore city. Nena Sahib
commanded five villages, with numerous intrenchments, armed with seven
guns; and in the rear was his infantry. Havelock, after advancing
sixteen miles from the Pandoo Nuddee to Aherwa during the night of the
15th, and after measuring the strength of this force, saw that his
troops would be shot down in alarming numbers before the guns could be
silenced and the intrenchments carried; he resolved, therefore, on a
flank-movement on the enemy’s left. As a preliminary, he left his camp
and baggage under proper escort at Maharajpoor, a few miles in the rear;
and gave his sunburnt and exhausted troops two or three hours’ rest in a
mango-grove during mid-day of the 16th, until the fierce heat should
have somewhat abated. The hour of struggle having arrived, Havelock
quietly wheeled his force round to the left flank of the enemy’s
position, behind a screen of clumps of mango. When the enemy detected
this manœuvre, great sensation was displayed; a body of horse was soon
sent to the left, and cannon opened fire in that direction. Then came a
series of operations in which the superb qualities of British infantry
were strikingly displayed. Villages were attacked and captured one after
another, by fragments of regiments so small that one marvels how the
enemy could have yielded before them. One such exploit is thus narrated
in Havelock’s own language: ‘The opportunity had arrived, for which I
have long anxiously waited, of developing the prowess of the 78th
Highlanders. Three guns of the enemy were strongly posted behind a lofty
hamlet, well intrenched. I directed this regiment to advance; and never
have I witnessed conduct more admirable. They were led by Colonel
Hamilton, and followed him with surpassing steadiness and gallantry
under a heavy fire. As they approached the village, they cheered and
charged with the bayonet, the pipes sounding the pibroch. Need I add
that the enemy fled, the village was taken, and the guns captured?’
After three or four villages had thus changed hands, the enemy planted a
24-pounder gun on the cantonment road in such a position as to work much
mischief upon Havelock, whose artillery cattle were so worn out with
heat and fatigue that they could not drag the guns onward to a desired
position. The Nena appearing to have in project a renewed attack,
Havelock resolved to anticipate him; he cheered on his infantry to a
capture of the 24-pounder; they rushed along the road amid a storm of
grape-shot from the enemy, and never slackened till they had reached the
gun and captured it. Especially was the 64th, led by Major Stirling,
conspicuous in this bold enterprise. The enemy lost all heart; they
retreated, blew up the magazine of Cawnpore on their way, and then went
on to Bithoor.
[Illustration:
Plan of action near Cawnpore, July 16, 1857.
]
Thus was fought the battle of Cawnpore, the conquest of which place had
for so many weeks been anxiously looked forward to by the British. True,
they had heard, and under too great a variety of detail to warrant
disbelief, that Sir Hugh Wheeler and his gallant companions had been
most treacherously murdered by the ruthless chieftain of Bithoor; but
yet a hope clung to them that some of their compatriots at least might
be alive at Cawnpore. On this 16th of July, Havelock’s small force was
lessened by the loss of 6 killed and 98 wounded or missing—a loss
wonderfully slight under the circumstances, but serious to him. Captain
Currie of the 84th received a wound so desperate that he sank under it
in a few hours; Major Stirling was slightly wounded; Captain Beatson,
attacked with cholera on the morning of the fight, held up with heroic
bearing during the whole day, but died soon afterwards. The enemy lost
seven guns on this day, of which three were 24-pounders.
Some of the Europeans bore an almost incredible amount of hard labour on
this day of fierce July heat. One, a youth of eighteen who had joined
the volunteer cavalry, had been on picket all the preceding night, with
no refreshment save biscuit and water; he then marched with the rest
sixteen miles during the forenoon; then stood sentry for an hour with
the enemy hovering around him; then fought during the whole afternoon;
then lay down supperless to rest at nightfall, holding his horse’s
bridle the while; then mounted night-guard from nine till eleven
o’clock; and then had his midnight sleep broken by an alarm from the
enemy. It was on this occasion, too, that Lieutenant Marshman Havelock,
son of the general, to whom he acted as aid-de-camp, performed a
perilous duty in such a way as to earn for himself the Victoria Cross—a
badge of honour established in 1856 for acts of personal heroism. The
general thus narrated the incident, in one of his dispatches: ‘The 64th
regiment had been much under artillery-fire, from which it had severely
suffered. The whole of the infantry were lying down in line, when,
perceiving that the enemy had brought out the last reserved gun, a
24-pounder, and were rallying round it, I called up the regiment to rise
and advance. Without any other word from me, Lieutenant Havelock placed
himself on his horse, in front of the centre of the 64th, opposite the
muzzle of the gun. Major Stirling, commanding the regiment, was in
front, dismounted; but the lieutenant continued to move steadily on in
front of the regiment at a foot-pace, on his horse. The gun discharged
shot until the troops were within a short distance, when it fired grape.
In went the corps, led by the lieutenant, who still steered steadily on
the gun’s muzzle until it was mastered by a rush of the 64th.’ It is
difficult for civilians adequately to comprehend the cool courage
required in an act like this; where a soldier walks his horse directly
up in front of a large piece of cannon which is loaded and fired at him
and his comrades as rapidly as possible.
What the British troops saw when they entered Cawnpore, has already
engaged our attention (pp. 142-145). None could ever forget it to their
dying day. It was on the 17th of July that Havelock, after a night’s
rest for his exhausted troops, entered the city, and learned the hideous
revelations of the slaughter-room and the well. What steps were
immediately taken in Cawnpore, has been noticed in the chapter just
cited; and the dismal story need not be repeated. The general could not
wait to attend to those matters at that time; he had still to learn what
were the movements of Nena Sahib after the battle of the preceding
day—whether the Mahratta intended or not to make a stand in his palace
at Bithoor. Sending forward part of his troops therefore on the
afternoon of the 17th, he found the enemy in a very strong position.
Their force consisted of the insurgent 31st and 42d Bengal infantry from
Saugor, the 17th from Fyzabad, sepoys from various other regiments,
troops of the cavalry regiments, and a portion of Nena Sahib’s
Mahrattas—about 4000 men in all. The plain in front of Bithoor,
diversified by thickets and villages, had two streams flowing through
it, not fordable, and only to be crossed by two narrow bridges. The
enemy held both bridges, and defended them well. The streams prevented
Havelock from turning the enemy’s flanks; and when his infantry
assaulted the position, they were received with heavy rifle and musketry
fire. After an hour of very severe struggle, he effected a crossing,
drove them back, captured their guns, and chased them towards Sorajpore.
He had no cavalry to maintain a pursuit—indeed the want of cavalry was
felt sadly by him in every one of his battles. This contest cost the
enemy about 250 men, the British about one-fifth of the number; in this
last-named list was included only one officer, Captain Mackenzie of the
78th Highlanders, who was slightly wounded.
Here, then, was one part of the enterprise accomplished. Cawnpore had
been recaptured, and the road cleared of rebels between that place and
Allahabad. It was on the 30th of June that Renaud had left the
last-named place with the first division, and on the 3d of July that
Spurgin had set off with the detachment by steamer. It was on the 7th
that Havelock had placed himself at the head of the second division, and
marched forth to overtake the two others—carrying with him the
recollection of a scowl from many of the Mussulman inhabitants of the
city. He had seen, as he went along, evidences of Renaud’s stern energy,
in the number of rebellious sepoys hanging from gibbets and trees by the
roadside. He and his troops had made ordinary Indian marches the first
three or four days, in alternate rain and fierce heat, and within sight
of destroyed bungalows and devastated homesteads; but when the news from
Renaud arrived, forced marches were made. Then came the battle of
Futtehpoor on the 12th, that of Aong on the morning of the 14th, that of
Pundoo Nuddee on the afternoon of the same day, that of Cawnpore on the
16th, and that of Bithoor on the 17th—five victories in six days,
spreading the fame of Havelock far and wide throughout the surrounding
districts. The future tactics had then to be resolved upon. Cawnpore had
been recovered, although the garrison could not be saved; but there was
another British garrison, another group of suffering British women and
children, to be thought of—at Lucknow. The general well knew how
desperate was the work before him, with the reduced and sickened force
at his command; but he was not the man to shrink from making an attempt,
at least, to relieve Brigadier Inglis and his companions. Feeling the
urgent need of more troops, and the imperative necessity of holding
Cawnpore safely while he himself advanced into Oude, Havelock had
already sent to Allahabad, requesting Neill to come if possible in
person to Cawnpore, and to bring reinforcements with him. It was easier
for Neill to respond to the first of these two appeals than to the
second; he would have gone anywhere, borne any amount of fatigue, to
share in the good work; but he found himself already reduced to so few
troops at Allahabad as to be barely able to maintain that place.
Nevertheless, after counting heads and measuring strength, he ventured
to draft off 227 men of the 84th foot from his little force; he started
them forth on the 15th, partly by bullock-trains, to reach Cawnpore on
the 20th. He himself set out on the 16th—the day of the battle of
Cawnpore—leaving Allahabad under the command of Captain Drummond Hay of
the 78th Highlanders, until Colonel O’Brien could arrive. After a rapid
journey, Neill reached Cawnpore, took military command of that place and
its neighbourhood, and assisted Havelock in the preparations necessary
for crossing the Ganges into Oude. One great necessity was perceived on
the instant by both generals; English soldiers, with all their good
qualities, are prone to drink; and Havelock soon found, to use his own
words, that ‘half his men would be needed to keep the other half from
getting drunk’ if they had easy access to liquor; he therefore bought up
all spare beverages in Cawnpore, and placed them in the hands of the
commissariat. A calamity much grieved the little army at this time.
Major Renaud, who had so successfully brought forward the first column
from Allahabad, sank under the effects of a wound he had received. A
bullet had hit him above the knee, forcing part of the scabbard of his
sword into the wound, and causing much suffering; amputation seemed to
afford some relief, but only for a time; he died soon after the arrival
of Neill, who had highly valued him as a trusty officer in his own
Madras Fusiliers.
Glancing at a map, we see that the high road from Cawnpore to Lucknow is
broken at its very commencement by the river Ganges, which, at this
point, varies from five hundred to two thousand yards in width. There
is, of course, no bridge here; and as the stream is usually very rapid,
the transport of troops necessarily becomes slow, difficult, and
dangerous work. Havelock began to cross on the 20th of July, but many
days elapsed before the task was completed. The _Brahmaputra_ steamer,
which brought Spurgin’s detachment to Cawnpore on the 17th, was, with a
few open boats, the only available resource for this work. By the 23d,
about 1100 of his troops had crossed over into Oude—every boat-load
having to battle against a broad and swift current. All possible baggage
was left behind, each man taking with him a very small supply of
clothing and food.
On the 20th, Havelock sent a short telegram to the
commander-in-chief—announcing that Nena Sahib’s followers appeared to be
deserting him; that he had fled from Bithoor; that the British had
re-entered that place on the 19th; and that the palace had been reduced
to ashes, and 13 guns captured. On the next day a further communication
was sent to the effect that three more guns, and a number of animals,
had been brought along from Bithoor, and that the magazine had been
blown up. Subsequent events proved that the Nena, though forced to flee,
still retained a body of troops under his command.
When the brigadier-general, on the 23d of July, had so far succeeded in
transporting his gallant little army over the majestic Ganges; and when
his sanguine hopes had led him to believe that he could conquer Lucknow
in two or three days, then arose in his mind the important strategic
question—What next? Should he remain in Oude after the capture of
Lucknow, and effect the thorough reconquest of that province; or should
he hastily recross the Ganges, march to Agra, liberate Colvin and the
other Europeans in the fort, pick up any available force there, and
advance to aid in the siege of Delhi? Sir Patrick Grant, who was
commander-in-chief at that time, was solicited by telegram for an answer
to this query. He strenuously recommended that Havelock, once in Oude,
should remain there if possible. ‘If he merely relieves the beleaguered
garrison of Lucknow, and, after accomplishing that object, instantly
recrosses the Ganges into our own provinces, it will be thought and
believed throughout India that he had signally failed to reconquer Oude,
and that he was driven out of the province by force of arms. The
insurgents, though beaten before Lucknow, would assuredly collect again,
and follow up the retiring army, prevent supplies from coming into camp,
and reduce our troops to great straits and hazards when recrossing the
Ganges—the passage of which, even when wholly unopposed, the
brigadier-general describes as having been a very difficult and tedious
operation.’ This exactly coincided with Havelock’s own view; and he
therefore turned a deaf ear to all applications for aid made to him by
the commanders at Agra and Delhi.
It was not until the 25th that Havelock, after seeing his army safely
across the river, made the passage himself from the Doab into Oude.
Neill, with a very small number of troops, prepared to hold Cawnpore
safely during Havelock’s absence. He re-established British power
throughout the place; offered government rewards for bringing in
captured rebels and public property; appointed Captain Bruce to the post
of superintendent of the police and intelligence departments; purchased
troop-horses in the neighbouring districts; and made arrangements for
keeping the road open and unmolested between Cawnpore and Allahabad. All
this he did, besides taking care of Havelock’s sick and wounded, with a
force of only 300 men—such was the result of the bravery of a soldier
and the skill of a commander, when combined in the same person.
When Havelock had advanced six miles from the Ganges, at a place called
Mungulwar, he was met by a messenger who had succeeded in eluding the
vigilance of the insurgents at Lucknow, and had brought a plan of that
city prepared by Major Anderson, together with some brief but valuable
information from Brigadier Inglis. The details were partly written in
Greek character, as a measure of precaution. Havelock now saw the full
importance and difficulty of the work before him. His own little band
was reduced to 1500 men, supported by 10 badly equipped and manned guns.
On the other hand, he learned that the enemy had intrenched and covered
with guns the long bridge across the Sye (Saee) at Bunnee, and had made
preparations for destroying it if the passage were forced. Nor was his
rear less imperiled than his front; for Nena Sahib had collected 3000
men and several guns, with which he intended to get between Havelock and
the Ganges, to cut off his retreat. Nothing but the anxious dangers and
difficulties of the Europeans at Lucknow would have induced the gallant
man to advance under such perilous odds. He said in one of his
dispatches to the government on the 28th: ‘The communications convince
me of the extreme delicacy and difficulty of any operation to relieve
Inglis; it shall be attempted, however, at every risk.’ Could he have
known how anxiously the beleaguered British in the Residency at Lucknow
was looking for him, his heart would have bled for them; Major Anderson
had sent him a military plan, but the messenger was too much imperiled
to bring any lengthened narrative.
The battle of Onao or Oonao was one of the most surprising of the series
in which Havelock was engaged. His passage towards Lucknow was disputed
on the 29th by the enemy, who had taken up a strong position. Their
right was protected by a swamp which could neither be forced nor turned;
their advanced corps was in a garden enclosure which assumed the form of
a bastion; and the rest of their force was posted in and behind a
village, the houses of which were loopholed and defended by 15 guns. The
passage between the village and the town of Onao was very narrow; but
along this passage the attack had to be made—because the swamp precluded
an advance on the one flank, while the flooded state of the country
equally rendered the other impassable. The attack was commenced by the
78th Highlanders and the 1st Fusiliers, who, with two guns, soon drove
the enemy out of the bastioned enclosure; but when they approached the
village, they were exposed to a hot fire from the loopholed houses. A
party of the 84th foot advanced in aid; and then a determined struggle
ensued; the village was set on fire, but still the enemy resisted with a
bravery worthy of a better cause. At length the passage between the town
and the village was forced; and then the enemy were seen drawn up in
great strength in an open plain—infantry, cavalry, and artillery.
Nevertheless Havelock attacked them, captured their guns, and put the
horse and foot to flight. During all this time a large detachment of
Nena Sahib’s troops, under Jupah Singh, threatened the left flank of the
British, in the not unreasonable hope of being able to annihilate such a
handful of men. No sooner had Havelock given his troops two or three
hours’ rest, than he advanced from Onao to Busherutgunje. This was a
walled town, with wet ditches, a gate defended by a round tower, four
pieces of cannon on and near the tower, loopholed and strengthened
buildings within the walls, and a broad and deep pond or lake beyond the
town. Havelock sent the Highlanders and Fusiliers, under cover of the
guns, to capture the earthworks and enter the town; while the 64th made
a flank movement on the left, and cut off the communication from the
town by a chaussée and bridge over the lake. His few horse could do
nothing for want of open ground on which to manœuvre; but his guns and
his infantry soon captured the place and drove the enemy before them. In
these two battles on one day, he had 12 killed and 76 wounded; while the
enemy is supposed to have lost half as many men as Havelock’s whole
force. He also captured 19 guns, but as he had no gunners to work them,
or horses to draw them, they were destroyed—two by spiking, and
seventeen by shot. In a dispatch relating to this day’s hard work, the
general, after describing the brief but desperate contest among the
loopholed houses, said: ‘Here some daring feats of bravery were
performed. Private Patrick Cavanagh, of the 64th, was cut literally in
pieces by the enemy, while setting an example of distinguished
gallantry. Had he lived I should have deemed him worthy of the Victoria
Cross; it could never have glittered on a more gallant breast.’ This
mode of noticing the merit of private soldiers endeared Havelock to his
troops. Cavanagh had been the first to leap over a wall from behind
which it was necessary to drive the enemy; he found himself confronted
by at least a dozen troopers, two or three of whom he killed; but he was
cut to pieces by the rest before his comrades could come to his aid.
It must have been with a pang of deep regret that the general, hitherto
successful in every encounter, found it necessary, on the 31st of July,
to make his first retrograde movement. He never scrupled to attack
thousands of the enemy with hundreds of his own troops, in open battle;
the odds, whether five to one or ten to one, did not deter him; but when
his whole force, his miniature army of operations, became reduced to
little more than the number for one full regiment, the question arose
whether any men would be left at all, after fighting the whole distance
to Lucknow. He had no means for crossing the Sye river or the great
canal, as the enemy had taken care either to destroy or to guard all the
bridges; and in every military requirement—except courage—his force was
becoming daily weaker. Besides officers and men who had been killed or
wounded in fair fight, numbers had been struck down by the sun; while
others, through exposure to swamps and marshes, had been seized with
cholera, diarrhœa, and dysentery; insomuch that Havelock was losing at
the rate of fifty men a day. In addition to all this, as he could leave
no men behind him to keep open the communication with Cawnpore, he was
obliged to take all his sick and wounded with him. His little band being
now reduced by battle and disease to 1364 men, he determined on receding
two short marches, to wait until reinforcements of some kind could reach
him. Colonel Tytler, his quartermaster-general, strongly confirmed the
necessity of this retreat. He saw no possibility of more than 600 men
reaching Lucknow alive and in fighting condition; and they would then
have had two miles of street-fighting before reaching the Residency. He
recommended a retreat from Busherutgunje to Mungulwar; and this retreat
was made under the earnest hope that aid would arrive soon enough to
permit an advance to Lucknow within a week—aid most urgently needed,
seeing that the garrison at that place was becoming very short of
provisions. The troops, of course, were a little disheartened by this
retrograde movement. They rested in Busherutgunje from the early morning
of the 30th to the afternoon, when they received the order to retreat.
It was not till after the reasons were explained to them, that his
gallant companions in arms could at all reconcile themselves to this
order from the general. They marched back that evening to Onao, and the
following morning to Mungulwar.
The month of August began under dispiriting circumstances to Havelock.
His chance of reaching Lucknow was smaller than ever; although greater
than ever was the need of the garrison at that place for his assistance.
He sent back his sick and wounded from Mungulwar to Cawnpore, across the
Ganges, and committed them to Neill’s keeping. He explained to that
general the reasons for his retreat, and asked for further
reinforcements if such were by any means obtainable. Neill was able
simply to send a few dozens of men, bringing Havelock’s effective number
up to about 1400. With these he set about reorganising his little band
during the first three days of the month—counting each man as if he had
been a gem above price. Every native had been got rid of; all his troops
were British; and therefore, few as they were, he felt entire reliance
on them. On the 4th he sent out his handful of volunteer cavalry to
reconnoitre the Lucknow road, to see what had become of the enemy. The
troopers dashed through Onao without interruption; but on approaching
Busherutgunje they saw ample evidence that the enemy were endeavouring
to block up the line of communication, by occupying in force a series of
hamlets between the town and the lake beyond it. The cavalry, having
thus obtained news critically important to the general, galloped back
the same evening to Onao, where they were joined by Havelock and his
force from Mungulwar. After a night’s bivouac at Onao, the British
marched forth in early morn, and met their old enemy for a second time
at Busherutgunje. Havelock, after a reconnaissance, resolved to deceive
the enemy by a show of cavalry in front, while he sent round guns and
infantry to turn their flanks. This manœuvre completely succeeded; the
enemy were surprised, shelled out of the town, and pursued by the
bayonet and the rifle through the whole of the hamlets to an open plain
beyond. They suffered much, but safely drew off all their guns except
two. Though a victory for Havelock, shewing the high qualities of his
men, it was not one that cheered him much. The enemy were still between
him and Lucknow, and he would have to encounter them again and again,
with probably great reinforcements on their side, ere he could succeed
in the object he had at heart. The morning of the 6th of August rose
gloomily to him; for he was forced to a conclusion that an attack on
Lucknow was wholly beyond his force. He returned from Busherutgunje
through Onao to his old quarters at Mungulwar; and when encamped there,
wrote or telegraphed to the commander-in-chief that he must abandon his
long-cherished enterprise until strengthened. All his staff-officers
joined in the opinion that to advance now to Lucknow would be ‘to court
annihilation,’ and would, moreover, seal the doom of the heroic Inglis
in that city—seeing that that officer could not possibly hold out
without the hopeful expectation, sooner or later, of relief from
Cawnpore. ‘I will remain,’ added Havelock in his notification, ‘till the
last moment in this position (Mungulwar), strengthening it, and hourly
improving my bridge-communication with Cawnpore, in the hope that some
error of the enemy may enable me to strike a blow against them, and give
the garrison an opportunity of blowing up their works and cutting their
way out.’ Havelock’s army now only just exceeded 1000 effective men—a
number absurd to designate as an army, were it not for its brilliant
achievements. Between Mungulwar and Lucknow it was known that there were
three strong posts, defended by 50 guns and 30,000 men. Every village on
the road, too (this being, in the turbulent province of Oude), was found
to be occupied by zemindars deadly hostile to the British. Neill had
only 500 reliable troops at Cawnpore, of whom one-half were on the
sick-list. Who can wonder, then, that even a Havelock shrank from an
advance to Lucknow at such a time?
[Illustration:
Plan of action near Bithoor, August 16, 1857.
]
From the evening of the 6th to the morning of the 11th was the small
overworked column encamped at Mungulwar—fighting against cholera as a
more dreaded opponent than rebellious sepoys, and keeping a guarded
watch on the distrusted Oudians around. On the 11th, however, this
sojourn was disturbed; and the British found themselves called upon to
meet the enemy for the third time at the town of Busherutgunje. Early in
the morning Havelock received information that 4000 rebels, with some
guns, had advanced from Nawabgunge to that place. It did not suit his
views to have such a hostile force in position within a few hours’ march
of him; he therefore put his column in motion. His advanced guard drove
the enemy’s parties out of Onao; but when he marched onward to the
vicinity of Busherutgunje, he found the enemy far more numerous than he
had expected—spread out to a great distance right and left, and strongly
intrenched in the centre. Havelock saw reasons for postponing his attack
till the following day. He returned to Onao, where his troops bivouacked
on the wet ground amid much discomfort, and after a very scanty supper.
Such men, however, were not likely to make the worst of their troubles;
they rose on the 12th, ready to vanquish the enemy in their usual style.
In the two former battles of Busherutgunje, the enemy had depended
chiefly on defences in and behind the town; but in this instance they
had adopted the plan of intrenching the village of Boursekee Chowkee, in
advance of the town. Havelock was much retarded in bringing his battery
and supporting troops across the deep and wide morasses which protected
the enemy’s front, during which operation the enemy’s shot and shell
caused him some loss; but when these obstacles were surmounted, and his
artillery brought into play, the 78th Highlanders, without firing a
shot, rushed with a cheer upon the principal redoubt, and captured two
out of the three horse-battery guns with which it was armed. The enemy’s
extreme left being also turned, they were soon in full retreat. But
here, as before, the victory was little more than a manifestation of
British superiority in the field of battle; the enemy lost six to one of
the British, but still they remained on or near the Lucknow road. The
brigadier, just alike to his humble soldiers and to his
brother-officers, did not fail to mention the names of those who
particularly distinguished themselves. On one occasion it was his own
son Lieutenant Havelock; on another it was Patrick Cavanagh the private;
and now it was Lieutenant Crowe of the 78th Highlanders, who, on this
12th of August, had been the first man to climb into the enemy’s redoubt
at Boursekee Chowkee—an achievement which afterwards brought him the
Victoria cross.
The conqueror for the third time retreated from Busherutgunje to
Mungulwar, of course a little weaker in men than in the morning.
Havelock’s object, in this third retreat, was not merely to reach
Mungulwar, but to recross the Ganges to Cawnpore, there to wait for
reinforcements before making another attempt to relieve Lucknow. The
advance of the 4000 rebels on the 11th had been mainly with the view of
cutting off the little band of heroes during this embarkation; but the
battle of the 12th frustrated this; and by evening of the 13th the whole
of the British had crossed the Ganges from the Oude bank to the Cawnpore
bank, by a bridge of boats and a boat-equipage which Colonel Tytler and
Captain Crommelin had used indefatigable exertions to prepare.
There can be no question that this retreat was regarded by the
insurgents as a concession to their superior strength, as an admission
that even a Havelock could not penetrate to Lucknow at that time; it
elated them, and for the same reason it depressed the little band who
had achieved so much and suffered so severely. The general himself was
deeply grieved, for the prestige of the British name, but more
immediately for the safety of Brigadier Inglis and his companions. But
though grieved, he was too good a soldier to despond: he looked at his
difficulties manfully. Those difficulties were indeed great. While he
was fighting in Oude, bravely but vainly striving to advance to Lucknow,
Nena Sahib had been collecting a motley assemblage of troops near
Bithoor, for the purpose of re-establishing his power in that region. A
whole month had been available to him for this purpose, from the middle
of July to the middle of August; and during this time there had been
assembled the 31st and 42d native infantry from Saugor, the 17th from
Fyzabad, portions of the 34th disbanded at Barrackpore, troops of three
mutinied cavalry regiments, and odds and ends of Mahrattas. The Nena had
imitated Havelock in crossing into Oude, but had afterwards recrossed
into the Doab, with the evident intention of attacking Neill’s weak
force at Cawnpore. Bithoor he reoccupied without difficulty, for Neill
had no troops to station at that place, but now he planned an advance to
Cawnpore itself. As soon as Havelock had brought his column across the
Ganges on the 13th, the two generals concerted a plan; they resolved to
rest the troops on the 14th, attack Nena Sahib’s left wing on the 15th,
and march to Bithoor on the 16th. Neill, with a mere handful of men,
went out of his intrenchment, surprised the enemy’s left, and drove them
with precipitation from the vicinity of Cawnpore. This done, Havelock
laid his plan for a third visit to Bithoor on the 16th. He marched out
with about 1300 men—nearly all that he and Neill possessed between
them—and came up to the enemy about mid-day. They had established a
position in front of Bithoor, which Havelock characterised as one of the
strongest he had ever seen. They had two guns and an earthen redoubt in
and near a plantation of sugar and castor-oil plants, intrenched
quadrangles filled with troops, and two villages with loopholed houses
and walls. Havelock, after surveying the position, sent his artillery
along the main road; consisting of Maude’s battery, which had already
rendered such good service, and Olphert’s battery, recently forwarded
from Allahabad under Lieutenant Smithett. While the guns proceeded along
the main road, the infantry advanced in two wings on the right and left.
After a brief exchange of artillery-fire, the 78th Highlanders and the
Madras Fusiliers advanced in that fearless way which struck such
astonishment and panic into the mutineers; they captured and burned a
village, then forced their way through a sugar-plantation, then took the
redoubt, then captured two guns placed in a battery, and drove the
rebels before them at every point. The battery, redoubt, quadrangles,
villages, and plantations having been thus conquered, the British
crossed a bridge over a narrow but unfordable stream, and pursued the
enemy into and right through the town of Bithoor. Beyond this it was
impossible to pursue them, for Havelock had now scarcely a dozen
troopers, and his infantry were utterly exhausted by marching and
fighting during a fiercely hot day. The 64th and 84th foot, with the
Ferozpore Sikhs, were disabled from taking a full share in the day’s
operations, by a bend or branch of the unfordable stream which
intercepted their intended line of march; the chief glory of the day
rested with the 78th Highlanders and the Madras Fusiliers. Havelock, in
his dispatch relating to this battle, said: ‘I must do the mutineers the
justice to pronounce that they fought obstinately; otherwise they could
not for a whole hour have held their own, even with such advantages of
ground, against my powerful artillery-fire.’ Worn out with fatigue, the
British troops bivouacked that night near Bithoor; and on the 17th they
returned to Cawnpore. They had been fighting for six or seven weeks
under an Indian sun, almost from the day of their leaving Allahabad.
‘Rest they must have,’ said Neill, in one of his pithy telegrams.
Captain Mackenzie, of the Highlanders, was among those who received
wounds on this day.
This may be regarded as terminating the Havelock campaign in the strict
sense of the term; that is, the campaign in which he was undisputed
chief. He was destined, before the hand of death struck him down, to
fight again against the rebellious sepoys, but under curious relations
towards a brother-officer—relations strikingly honourable to both, as
will presently be explained. A wonderful campaign it must indeed be
called. Between the 12th of July and the 17th of August, Havelock had
fought and won three battles in the Doab east of Cawnpore, three in the
vicinity of Cawnpore and Bithoor, and four in Oude—ten battles in
thirty-seven days; and this against an enemy manifold superior in
numbers, and with an army which naturally became weaker by each battle,
until at length its fighting power was almost extinguished.
Precarious, indeed, was the state to which Havelock’s little force was
reduced. Shells, balls, bullets, sabres, heat, fatigue, and disease,
laid his poor fellows low; while his constant cry for reinforcements
was—not unheeded, certainly—but left unsatisfied. The cry was everywhere
the same—‘Send us troops;’ and the reply varied but little: ‘We have
none to send.’ On the 19th of August, he had 17 officers and 466 men
sick at Cawnpore; while those who were not sick were so exhausted as to
be scarcely fit for active service. Havelock and Neill thirsted to
encourage their handful of men by some brilliant achievement; but the
one essential would be the relief of Lucknow, and for this they were not
strong enough. The rebels, encouraged by this state of affairs,
assembled in great force on the Oude side of the Ganges; they threatened
to cross at Cawnpore, at a spot twelve miles lower down, and at
Futtehpoor; while, on the other side, the Gwalior Contingent threatened
the small British force from Calpee. Havelock telegraphed to the
commander-in-chief: ‘I could bring into the field 8 good guns, but the
enemy are reported to have 29 or 30; these are great odds, and my 900
soldiers may be opposed to 5000 organised troops. The loss of a battle
would ruin everything in this part of India.’ After deducting his sick
and wounded, and two detachments to guard the cantonment and the road to
it, he had only 700 men ready for the field—perhaps the smallest ‘army’
that modern warfare has exhibited. Every day the general became more
earnest and urgent in the language of his telegrams; he was quite
willing to ‘fight anything, and at any odds;’ but his failure of victory
would be ruinous at such a critical time. There were 5000 Gwalior troops
threatening his rear on the Jumna; there were 20,000 Oudians watching
him from the other side of the Ganges; there were 12,000 of the enemy on
his left at Furruckabad; and to oppose these 37,000 armed and
disciplined soldiers, he had only 700 effective men! The contrast would
have been ridiculous, but for the moral grandeur which gave almost a
sublimity to the devotedness of this little band. On the 21st, he
announced that unless reinforcements arrived soon, he would be compelled
to abandon all his hopes and plans, and return to Allahabad, whence he
had started on his career of conquest seven weeks before. He
endeavoured, meanwhile, to strengthen his position at Cawnpore, and to
send off sick and wounded to Allahabad, as a temporary relief.
It would not be easy to decide who was beset by most anxiety towards the
close of August—Havelock or Inglis. The former, after his vain attempt
to reach Lucknow, wrote a note on the 4th which happily reached Inglis;
telling him of what had occurred, and adding, ‘You must aid us in every
way, even to cutting your way out, if we can’t force our way in. We have
only a small force.’ This note reached Inglis on the 15th; he wrote a
reply on the 16th, which—after the messenger had been exposed to seven
days of great peril—Havelock received on the 23d. This reply told how
terrible was the position of the Lucknow garrison—120 sick and wounded;
220 women, and 230 children; food and all necessaries scanty; disease
and filth all about them; officers toiling like common labourers from
morning till night; soldiers and civilians nearly worn out with fatigue;
enemy attacking every day, and forming mines to blow up the feeble
intrenchments; and no means of carriage even if the garrison succeeded
in quitting the place. The remaining days of the month were spent by
Havelock inactively but hopefully. True, he was becoming almost invested
by the rebels at Cawnpore, who saw that his handful of men could do
little against them; but, on the other hand, telegraphic communication
was well kept up with Allahabad, Benares, and Calcutta. He learned that
Canning, Campbell, and Outram were busily engaged in sending up every
possible reinforcement to him; and he wrote again and again to Inglis,
urging him to remain firm to the last, in the cheerful trust that aid
would come before the last act of despair—a surrender to the insurgents
at Lucknow. There was mention of nearly 2000 men being either on their
way or about to start from Calcutta, belonging to the 5th, 64th, 78th,
84th, and 90th regiments, the Madras Fusiliers, and the artillery; and
there were confident hopes expressed of great service being rendered by
the Naval Brigade, 500 ‘blue jackets,’ under Captain Peel, who left
Calcutta by steamer on the 20th. The governor-general knew that
Brigadier Inglis had a quarter of a million sterling of government money
under his charge in the Residency of Lucknow; and he sent telegrams to
Havelock and Neill, urging them, if possible, to convey instructions to
Inglis not to care about the money, but rather to use it in any way that
might best contribute to the liberation of his heroic and suffering
companions.
New names now appear upon the scene—those of Outram and Campbell.
Major-general Sir James Outram, after successfully bringing the Persian
war to an end, had been appointed by the governor-general to the
military command of the Dinapoor and Cawnpore divisions; succeeding
Wheeler, who was killed at Cawnpore, and Lloyd, who had fallen into
disgrace at Dinapoor. This was a very important trust, seeing that it
placed under his control all the British officers engaged in the various
struggles at Lucknow, Cawnpore, Allahabad, Benares, Dinapoor, &c. He
arrived at Dinapoor to assume this command on the 18th of August, two
days after the date when Havelock had ended his series of ten battles.
It happened, too, that Sir Colin Campbell arrived in India about the
same time, to fill the office of commander-in-chief of all the armies of
the crown and the Company in India. For a period of two months, Sir
Patrick Grant had superintended military matters, remaining in
consultation with Viscount Canning at Calcutta, and corresponding with
the generals in the various provinces and divisions. Now, however, Sir
Patrick returned to his former post at Madras, and Sir Colin assumed
military command in his stead—remaining, like him, many weeks at
Calcutta, where he could better organise an army than in the upper
provinces. Campbell and Outram, the one at Calcutta and the other at
Dinapoor, speedily settled by telegram that every possible exertion
should be made to send up reinforcements to Havelock and Neill at
Cawnpore; and that those gallant men should be encouraged to hold on,
and not retreat from their important position. Outram had formed a plan
entirely distinct from that in which Havelock was concerned—namely, to
advance from Benares direct to Lucknow _viâ_ Jounpoor, a route
altogether northeast of the Ganges and the Doab; and to relieve
Brigadier Inglis and the devoted garrison of that city. When, however,
it became known that Inglis could not cut his way out of Lucknow without
powerful assistance, and that Havelock himself was in danger at
Cawnpore, Sir Colin Campbell suggested to Sir James Outram a
reconsideration of his plan; pointing out that an advance of a hundred
and fifty miles from Benares to Lucknow, through a country mostly in the
hands of the enemy, would under any circumstances be very perilous; and
submitting that a march by Allahabad to Cawnpore might probably be
better. The great problem in effect was—how could Outram best assist
Havelock and Neill, and how could all three best liberate Inglis from
his difficulties? To solve this problem, the few remaining days of
August, and the month of September, were looked forward to with anxiety.
The plan of operations once agreed upon, Sir James Outram engaged in it
as quickly as possible. On the 1st of September, having made the
necessary military arrangements for the safety of the Dinapoor region,
he arrived at Allahabad, making a brief sojourn at Benares on his way.
He took with him 90 men of H.M. 90th foot—a small instalment of the
forces with which he hoped to strengthen Havelock’s little band. Three
days afterwards, 600 men of the same regiment reached Allahabad by
steamers—a slow and sure way which the government was forced to adopt
owing to the miserable deficiency in means of land-transport. No time
was lost in making these valuable troops available. Reckoning up the
various fragments of regiments which had arrived at Allahabad since
Havelock took his departure from that place two months before, Outram
found them to amount to something over 1700 men; he set off himself on
the 5th with a first column of 673 men; Major Simmonds started on the
same day with a second column of 674; about 90 more followed on the 6th;
and 300 remained to guard Allahabad, and to form the nucleus for further
reinforcements. On the 7th, Outram was at Hissa, progressing at a rate
that would probably carry him to Cawnpore by the 15th—all his men
eagerly hoping to have a brush with the ‘Pandies,’ and to aid in
augmenting the gallant little band under Havelock.
While Sir James was on his march, he received information that a party
of insurgents from Oude were about to cross the Ganges into Doab, at a
place called Koondun Puttee, between Allahabad and Futtehpoor, and about
twenty miles from the last-named town. Seeing the importance of
frustrating this movement, he made arrangements accordingly. Being at
Thureedon on the 9th of September, he placed a small force under the
charge of Major Vincent Eyre, who had lately much distinguished himself
at Arrah; consisting of 100 of H.M. 5th, and 50 of the 64th regiments,
mounted on elephants, with two guns, tents, two days’ cooked provisions,
and supplies for three days more. These troops, not sorry at being
selected for such a novel enterprise, started off and reached Hutgong by
dusk on the 10th, where they were joined by 40 troopers of the 12th
Irregular Horse under Captain Johnson. Eyre, after resting his men, made
a moonlight march to Koondun Puttee, where he arrived at daybreak. The
enemy, in surprise, rushed hastily to their boats, with a view of
recrossing the Ganges into Oude; but this escape was not allowed to
them. The sword, musket, rifle, and cannon brought them down in such
numbers that hardly any saw Oude again. The number of the enemy was
about 300; a number not large, but likely to prove very disastrous if
they had obtained command of the road between Allahabad and Cawnpore.
Havelock evidently attached much importance to this service, for he said
in his dispatch: ‘I now consider my communications secure, which
otherwise must have been entirely cut off during our operations in Oude;
and a general insurrection, I am assured, would have followed throughout
the Doab had the enemy not been destroyed—they being but the
advanced-guard of more formidable invaders.’ This work achieved, the
different columns continued their march, until at length they safely
reached Cawnpore.
[Illustration:
BRIGADIER-GENERAL NEILL.
]
The three generals—Outram, Havelock, and Neill—met on the 15th of
September at Cawnpore, delighted at being able to reinforce each other
for the hard work yet to be done. And now came a manifestation of noble
self-denial, a chivalrous sacrifice of mere personal inclination to a
higher sense of justice. Outram was higher in rank as a military
officer, and held a higher command in that part of India; he might have
claimed, and officially was entitled to claim, the command of the
forthcoming expedition; but he, like others, had gloried in the deeds of
Havelock, and was determined not to rob him of the honour of relieving
Lucknow. On the 16th, Sir James Outram issued an order,[61] in which,
among other things, he announced that Havelock had been raised from
brigadier-general to major-general; that that noble soldier should have
the opportunity of finishing what he had so well begun; that Outram
would accompany him as chief-commissioner of Oude, and would fight under
him as a volunteer, without interfering with his command; and that
Havelock should not be superseded in the command by Outram until the
relief of Lucknow should have been achieved. It was a worthy deed,
marking, as Havelock well expressed it, ‘characteristic generosity of
feeling;’ he announced it to his troops by an order on the same day, and
‘expressed his hope that they would, by their exemplary and gallant
conduct in the field, strive to justify the confidence thus reposed in
them.’
The two generals wished at once to ascertain from Calcutta what were the
views of Viscount Canning and Sir Colin Campbell concerning any ulterior
proceedings at Lucknow. Outram sent a telegram to Canning to inquire
whether, if Lucknow were recaptured, it should be held at all hazards,
as a matter of success and prestige. The governor-general at once sent
back a reply: ‘Save the garrison; never mind our prestige just now,
provided you liberate Inglis; we will recover prestige afterwards. I
cannot just now send you any more troops. Save the British in the
Residency, and act afterwards as your strength will permit.’ The two
generals proceeded to act on these instructions. Just two months had
elapsed since Havelock had made his appearance at Cawnpore as a victor;
and it was with great pain and anxiety that he had been forced to allow
those two months to pass away without sending one single soldier, one
single ration of food, to the forlorn band who so wonderfully stood
their ground in the Residency at Lucknow. Now, however, he looked
forward with brighter hopes; Outram was with him, under relations most
friendly and honourable; and both generals were fully determined to
suffer any sacrifice rather than leave Inglis and his companions
unrelieved.
Outram himself planned the organisation of the new force for operations
in Oude; but he placed Havelock at the head of it, and took care that
Neill should have a share in the glory.[62] It consisted of two brigades
of infantry, one of cavalry, one of artillery, and an engineer
department.
It was on the 19th of September that the two generals crossed with this
army into Oude, making use for that purpose of a bridge of boats over
the Ganges, most laboriously constructed by Captain Crommelin. The
enemy, assembled near the banks, retired after a nominal resistance to
Mungulwar. The heavy guns and the baggage were crossed over on the 20th.
On the 21st the British again came up with the enemy, turned their right
flank, drove them from their position, inflicted on them a severe loss,
and captured four guns. With the heroism of a true soldier, Sir James
Outram headed one of the charges that brought about this victory;
serving as a volunteer under Havelock. The enemy were not permitted to
destroy the Bunnee bridge over the Sye; and thus the victors were
enabled to pursue their route towards Lucknow. On the 23d, Havelock
again found himself in presence of the enemy, who had taken up a strong
position; their left posted in the enclosure of the Alum Bagh—a place
destined to world-wide notoriety—and their centre and right on low
hills. Alum Bagh is so near Lucknow that firing in the city could be
distinctly heard; and Havelock therefore gave a volley with his largest
guns, to tell the beleaguered garrison that aid was near. The British,
in order to encounter the enemy, had to pass straight along the high
road between morasses, during which they suffered much from artillery;
but when once enabled to deploy to the right and left, they gradually
gained an advantage, and added another to the list of their
victories—driving the enemy before them, but at the same time suffering
severely from the large numbers and the heavy firing of those to whom
they were opposed. They had been marching three days under a perfect
deluge of rain, irregularly fed, and badly housed in villages. Havelock
determined, therefore, to pitch camp, and to give his exhausted troops
one whole day’s rest on the 24th.
At last came the eventful day, the 25th of September, when the
beleaguered garrison at Lucknow were to experience the joy of seeing
those whose arrival had been yearned for during so long and anxious a
period. Early on that morning, after depositing his baggage and tents
under an escort in the Alum Bagh, Havelock pursued his march. The 1st
brigade, with Outram attached to it as a volunteer, drove the enemy from
a succession of gardens and walled enclosures; while the other brigades
supported it. From the bridge of the Char Bagh over the canal, to the
Residency at Lucknow, was a distance in a straight line of about two
miles; and this interval was cut by trenches, crossed by palisades, and
intersected by loopholed houses. Progress in this direction being so
much obstructed, Havelock resolved to deploy along a narrow road that
skirted the left bank of the canal. On they went, until they came
opposite the palace of Kaiser or Kissurah Bagh, where two guns and a
body of insurgents were placed; and here the fire poured out on them was
so tremendous that, to use the words of the general, ‘nothing could live
under it;’ his troops had to pass a bridge partly under the influence of
this fire; but immediately afterwards they received the shelter of
buildings adjacent to the palace of Fureed Buksh. Darkness now coming
on, it was at one time proposed that the force should halt for the night
in and near the court of this palace; but Havelock could not bear the
idea of leaving the Residency for another night in the hands of the
enemy; he therefore ordered his trusty Highlanders, and little less
trusty Sikhs, to take the lead in the tremendous ordeal of a
street-fight through the large city of Lucknow. It was a desperate
struggle, but it was for a great purpose—and it succeeded. On that
night, within the British Residency, Havelock and Outram clasped hands
with Inglis, and listened to the outpourings of full hearts all around
them. The sick and the wounded, the broken-down and the emaciated, the
military and the civilians, the officers and the soldiers, the women and
the children—all within the Residency had passed a day of agonised
suspense, unable to help in their own deliverance; but when at length
Havelock’s advanced column could be seen in a street visible from the
buildings of the Residency—then broke forth such a cheer as none can
know but those placed in similar circumstances.
When General Havelock penned a hasty dispatch narrating the events of
this day, he said: ‘To form a notion of the obstacles overcome, a
reference must be made to the events that are known to have occurred at
Buenos Ayres and Saragossa. Our advance was through streets of
flat-roofed and loopholed houses, each forming a separate fortress. I am
filled with surprise at the success of operations which demanded the
efforts of 10,000 good troops.’ The advantage cost him dearly. Sir James
Outram received a flesh-wound in the arm early in the day, but nothing
could subdue his spirit; though faint from loss of blood, he continued
till the end of the operations to sit on his horse, from which he only
dismounted at the gate of the Residency. Greatest loss of all was that
of the gallant and energetic Brigadier-general Neill, who from the 3d of
June to the 25th of September had been almost incessantly engaged in
conflicts with the enemy, in and between the cities of Benares,
Allahabad, Cawnpore, and Lucknow. He fell, to fight no more. From the
time when he left his native home in Ayrshire, a stripling sixteen years
of age, he had passed thirty years of his life in service, and had been
a trusty and trusted officer.[63] But although the loss of Neill was the
most deplored, on account of the peculiar services which he had
rendered, Havelock had to lament the melancholy list of gallant officers
who had equally desired to shew themselves as true soldiers on this
day.[64] No less than ten officers were either killed or wounded in the
78th Highlanders alone—shewing how terrible must have been the work in
which that heroic regiment led. The whole list of casualties comprised
119 officers and men killed, 339 wounded, and 77 missing. Of these last
Havelock said: ‘I much fear that, some or all, they have fallen into the
hands of a merciless foe.’ Thus was the force reduced by more than five
hundred men in one day.
On the evening of this day, the 25th of September, Major-general
Havelock, within the Residency at Lucknow, gave back to Sir James Outram
the charge which had so generously been intrusted to him. He became
second in command to one who had all day fought chivalrously under him
as a volunteer. Here, then, this chapter may end. It was the last day of
Havelock’s campaign as an independent commander. What else he did before
disease ended his valuable life; what the Lucknow garrison had effected
to maintain their perilous position during so many weary weeks; what
were the circumstances that rendered necessary many more weeks of
detention in the Residency; by whom and at what time they were really
and finally relieved—are subjects that will engage our attention in
future pages.
-----
Footnote 57:
It may be useful to note, for readers unfamiliar with military
matters, the meaning of the words _brevet_ and _brigadier_. A brevet
is a commission, conferring on an officer a degree of rank _next
above_ that which he holds in his particular regiment; without,
however, conveying the power of receiving the corresponding pay.
Besides being honorary as a mark of distinction, it qualifies the
officer to succeed to the full possession of the higher rank on a
vacancy occurring, in preference to one not holding a brevet. In the
British army brevet rank only applies to captains, majors, and
lieutenant-colonels. A _brigadier_ is a colonel or other officer of a
regiment who is made temporarily a general officer for a special
service, in command of a brigade, or more than one regiment. It is not
a permanent rank, but is considered as a stepping-stone to the office
of major-general. Many Indian officers who were colonels when the
Indian mutiny began, such as Henry Lawrence and Neill, were appointed
brigadier-generals for a special service, and rose to higher rank
before the mutiny was ended.
Footnote 58:
Chapter ix., pp. 159-161.
Footnote 59:
_British Troops_:
H.M. 64th foot (from Persia), 435 men; Major Stirling.
H.M. 78th Highlanders (from Persia), 284 men; Col. Hamilton.
H.M. 84th foot (from Pegu), 190 men; Lieut. Ayrton.
1st Madras Fusiliers (from Madras), 376 men; Major Renaud.
Voluntary cavalry (from Allahabad), 20 men; Capt. Barrow.
Royal artillery (from Ceylon), 98 men; Capt. Maude.
————
1403
_Native Troops_:
Regiment of Ferozpore (Sikhs), 448 men; Capt. Brasyer.
13th Irr. Cav., and 3d Oude Cav., 95 men; Lieut. Palliser.
Artillery, 18 men;
————
561
Colonel Tytler and Captain Beatson officiated as
quarter-master-general and adjutant-general of the force, irrespective
of particular regiments.
Footnote 60:
‘Brigadier-general Havelock thanks his soldiers for their arduous
exertion of yesterday, which produced, in four hours, the strange
result of a whole army driven from a strong position, eleven guns
captured, and their whole force scattered to the winds, without the
loss of a single British soldier!
‘To what is this astonishing effect to be attributed? To the fire of
the British artillery, exceeding in rapidity and precision all that
the brigadier-general has ever witnessed in his not short career; to
the power of the Enfield rifle in British hands; to British pluck,
that good quality that has survived the revolution of the hour; and to
the blessing of Almighty God on a most righteous cause—the cause of
justice, humanity, truth, and good government in India.’
Footnote 61:
‘The important duty of first relieving the garrison of Lucknow has
been intrusted to Major-general Havelock, C.B.; and Major-general
Outram feels that it is due to this distinguished officer, and to the
strenuous and noble exertions which he has already made to effect that
object, that to him should accrue the honour of the achievement.
‘Major-general Outram is confident that the great end for which
General Havelock and his brave troops have so long and so gloriously
fought will now, under the blessing of Providence, be accomplished.
‘The major-general, therefore, in gratitude for and admiration of the
brilliant deeds in arms achieved by General Havelock and his gallant
troops, will cheerfully waive his rank on the occasion, and will
accompany the force to Lucknow in his civil capacity as
chief-commissioner of Oude, tendering his military services to General
Havelock as a volunteer.
‘On the relief of Lucknow, the major-general will resume his position
at the head of the forces.’
Footnote 62:
‘FIRST INFANTRY BRIGADE.
‘The 5th Fusiliers; 84th regiment; detachments 64th foot and 1st
Madras Fusiliers:—Brigadier-general Neill commanding, and nominating
his own brigade staff.
‘SECOND INFANTRY BRIGADE.
‘Her Majesty’s 78th Highlanders; her Majesty’s 90th Light Infantry;
and the Sikh regiment of Ferozpore:—Brigadier Hamilton commanding, and
nominating his own brigade staff.
‘THIRD (ARTILLERY) BRIGADE.
‘Captain Maude’s battery; Captain Olphert’s battery; Brevet-Major
Eyre’s battery:—Major Cope to command, and to appoint his own staff.
‘CAVALRY.
‘Volunteer cavalry to the left; Irregular cavalry to the
right:—Captain Barrow to command.
‘ENGINEER DEPARTMENT.
‘Chief-engineer, Captain Crommelin; assistant-engineers, Lieutenants
Leonard and Judge.
‘Major-general H. Havelock, C.B., to command the force.’
Footnote 63:
The Queen afterwards gave to the brigadier-general’s wife the title
which she would have acquired in the regular way if her gallant
husband had lived a few weeks longer—that of Lady Neill.
Footnote 64:
_Officers Killed._—Brigadier-general Neill; Brigade-major Cooper;
Lieutenant-colonel Bazely; Captain Pakenham; Lieutenants Crump,
Warren, Bateman, Webster, Kirby, Poole, and Moultrie.
_Officers Wounded._—Major-general Sir J. Outram; Lieutenant-colonel
Tytler; Captains Becher, Orr, Hodgson, Crommelin, Olphert, L’Estrange,
Johnson, Lockhart, Hastings, and Willis; Lieutenants Sitwell,
Havelock, Lynch, Palliser, Swanston, Birch, Crowe, Swanson, Grant,
Jolly, Macpherson, Barry, Oakley, Woolhouse, Knight, Preston, Arnold,
and Bailey. Some of the wounded officers afterwards died of their
wounds.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE DINAPOOR MUTINY, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
After the first startling outbreak at Meerut, there was no instance of
mutiny that threw consternation over a more widely spreading range of
country than that at Dinapoor. This military station is in the midst of
the thickly populated province of Behar, between Bengal and Oude; a
province rich in opium, rice, and indigo plantations, and inhabited
chiefly by a class of Hindoos less warlike than those towards the west.
The Dinapoor mutiny was the one great event in the eastern half of
Northern India during July and August; and on this account it may
conveniently be treated as the central nucleus around which all the
minor events grouped themselves. In the regions surrounding the lower
course of the Ganges, and its branch the Hoogly, the disturbances were
of minor character; but along both sides of the great trunk-road there
was much more agitation, especially after the mutiny at the station
above named. Nevertheless, it will be desirable to take a bird’s-eye
glance at Bengal and Behar generally in this chapter, in relation to the
events of July and August—keeping steadily in mind the 25th of July, as
the day on which the occurrences at Dinapoor agitated all the natives,
paralysed many of the Europeans, and led to a train of truly remarkable
proceedings in and near the town of Arrah.
First, then, for Calcutta, the Anglo-Indian capital. This city was not
afflicted by a mutiny, in the usual meaning of the term, at any time
during the year. Many reasons might be assigned for this exemption.
There were on all occasions more Europeans at Calcutta than in any other
city in India, who could have presented a formidable defence-corps if
they chose to combine for that purpose. There was the majesty of a
vice-regal court at Calcutta, not without its effect on the
impressionable minds of Asiatics. There were the head-quarters of all
authority in the city, insuring the promptest measures if exigency
should demand them. And lastly, Calcutta being the landing-place for
most of the English troops, rebel sepoys could never hope for much
chance of success in that capital. Mutiny there was not, but panic
unquestionably appeared—panic among the Europeans who did not belong to
the Company’s service, and whose imaginations were excited by the
terrible narratives brought in from the northwest, and highly coloured
during their transmission. It was an unfortunate circumstance that many
of these persons were hostile to the government of Viscount Canning; and
this hostility was especially displayed by those connected with the
press, on account of the restrictions already adverted to. Whatever may
be the varieties of opinion on the matters at issue, it is
unquestionable that difficulties were thrown in the way of the executive
by this want of accord. India has for a long period been rich in
coteries and parties. Among military men, the Queen’s officers and the
Company’s officers have had a little emulative pique; among non-military
men, there has been an envy by the non-officials of the civil servants
of the Company; and the military and the civilians have had their own
grounds for antagonism. Calcutta, above all other places, has been
marked by these sources of discord.
Towards the close of July the government deemed it prudent to ascertain
what was the state of affairs in Calcutta with reference to the
possession, sale, or concealment of arms. The Europeans in the city, in
a state of perpetual alarm, kept up by unauthenticated paragraphs in the
newspapers, had indulged a belief that the natives had lately made large
purchases of arms, as if plotting mischief. Especially was this
suspicion entertained when news arrived from Havelock and Neill that all
the Europeans at Cawnpore had been murdered; almost wild with
excitement, rage, and terror, the Calcutta community set no bounds to
their apprehensions; they would fain have shot all the natives around
them, in vague dread of some diabolical plot. Mr Wauchope, commissioner
of police, was ordered to make strict inquiry concerning the possession
of arms. He found that the sale of weapons had been very large during
three mouths, but that nearly all the purchases had been made by
Europeans, and that hardly a house in Calcutta, inhabited by Christians,
was without one or more muskets or pistols. Many arms also had been
purchased in Calcutta, and taken into the provinces for the use of
indigo-planters, zemindars, and others, who naturally wished to have
near them a few weapons at such a turbulent period. Of any considerable
purchases of arms by the native population of Calcutta there was no
proof, and the superintendent disbelieved the rumour. This was the third
time in two months that the Anglo-Indian capital had been thrown into a
paroxysm of terror on this subject; and although the panic was shewn to
be groundless, the authorities nevertheless believed it to be expedient
to cause all firearms in the city to be registered.
[Illustration:
MAJOR VINCENT EYRE.
]
No small part of the agitation at Calcutta arose from the shackles on
the press, already adverted to. Men of extreme opinions, and men of
excited feelings, longing to pour out their thoughts on paper, found
themselves less able so to do than in times gone by; there was the
seizure of their printing apparatus, the infliction of a heavy fine,
confronting them, and checking the movement of their pens. Sufficient
transpired, however, to render manifest these two facts—that the
European community at Calcutta violently hated the natives generally,
and violently opposed Viscount Canning personally. There was a very
general acquiescence in some such code of rules as the following, for
dealing with the natives—that every mutineer who had taken up arms or
quitted his ranks should be put to death; that every native, not a
soldier, who aided the mutineers, should in like manner be put to death;
that in every village in which a European had been murdered, a telegraph
wire cut, or a dâk stolen, a swift tribunal should exercise summary
justice; that every village in which a European fugitive had been
insulted or refused aid should be heavily fined; and that vengeance,
burning vengeance, was the only adequate measure to deal out to all who
had offended. The distressing tales brought by the fugitives had much
effect in keeping up the feeling denoted by such suggestions as these.
It was under the influence of the same disturbed state of the public
mind, that an address or petition was got up, condemnatory alike of
Viscount Canning and of the East India Company; it was intended to work
a considerable effect in England; but the obviously one-sided line of
argument vitiated its force and damaged its reception.
As the month of July advanced, and fugitives came in from the disturbed
provinces, arrangements were made for accommodating them at Calcutta,
and—as we have seen—for alleviating their wants. It became also a point
of much importance to provide barracks or temporary homes of some kind
for the troops expected to arrive by sea from various regions. Among
buildings set apart for this latter purpose were the Town Hall, the Free
School, the Pleaders’ Chambers in the Sudder Court, and the Lower Orphan
School at Kidderpore. Many months would necessarily elapse before troops
in large numbers could arrive; but even a single regiment would require
considerable space to house it before it could be sent up the country.
In what way, during July and August, the English troops were sent to the
seats of disturbance, has already been sufficiently noticed; some were
despatched by steamers up the Ganges to Patna, Benares, and Allahabad;
while the rest mostly went from Calcutta to Raneegunge by railway, and
thence pursued their land-journey by any vehicles obtainable.
It may here be remarked, that when Sir Colin Campbell arrived at
Calcutta, an immense amount of labour presented itself to his notice.
Before he could decide whether to advance northwest to the seat of war,
or to remain at the capital, he had carefully to examine the military
condition of India. The records of the war department were at Simla,
while the centre of authority was at Calcutta. The principal officers
were scattered throughout the disturbed districts; the desultory and
isolated struggles had relaxed the bond of military obedience; the
reinforcements as they arrived had to be fitted into their places; the
detached forces had to be brought into subordination to some general
plan; and the different branches of the service had to be brought into
harmony one with another. Hence Calcutta was for several weeks the
head-quarters of the veteran commander-in-chief, while these
all-important details of military organisation were in progress.
In the wide belt of country forming the eastern margin of India, from
the Himalaya in the north to Pegu in the south, there was no mutiny
properly so called during July and August. All the disturbances were
limited to threatening symptoms which, if not attended to, might have
proved dangerous. The nature of these symptoms may be illustrated by a
few examples. At Jelpigoree, early in July, two men were detected
tampering with the sepoys of the 73d N. I.; and a trooper of the 11th
irregular cavalry was found guilty of insubordination. At Dinagepore the
moulvies or Mussulman religious teachers began to spread seditious
rumours. At Jessore, similar Mussulman tendencies were manifested. In
the third week of July tranquillity prevailed throughout the divisions
of Aracan, Chittagong, Dacca, Assam, and Darjeeling, comprising the belt
above adverted to; and if agitation were more observable towards the
close of the month, it was traceable to news of the Dinapoor mutiny,
presently to be noticed. Early in August the Jelpigoree native troops
were found to be in a very unsettled state, ready to mutiny at any time;
and on the 15th a plot was discovered for murdering the officers and
decamping towards the west. In consequence of this, orders were sent to
Assam and Darjeeling to aid the Jelpigoree officers in case of need.
During the remainder of August, a close watch was kept on the 73d N. I.,
the chief native regiment in that part of India, sufficient to prevent
actual outbreaks; and native servants were disarmed during the Mohurrum
or Mohammedan festival, to guard against the effects of fanaticism.
Perhaps, however, the tranquillity of this eastern belt was more
efficiently secured by the near neighbourhood of half-civilised border
tribes, who had but little sympathy with the real Hindustanis, and were
willing to enter into the Company’s service as irregular troops and
armed police.
Passing westward, to the line of route along the Hoogly to the Ganges,
and the country near it, we find traces of a little more turbulency,
owing to the presence of a greater number of native troops. About the
middle of July, the Barrackpore authorities asked for permission to
disarm the villages near at hand, in order to render more effectual the
previous disarming of native troops at Barrackpore itself—treated in a
former chapter. Early in August the behaviour of the troops at
Berhampore became suspicious; they had heard of the mutiny of the 8th N.
I. at places further west, and were with difficulty kept from imitating
the pernicious example. In the middle of the month, the commissioner of
Bhagulpore deemed it necessary to detain two detachments of H.M. 5th
Fusiliers, on their way up the Ganges, at Bhagulpore and Monghir; for
the 32d native infantry, and the 5th irregular cavalry, exhibited
symptoms not to be neglected. After the occurrences at Dinapoor, the
region around Berhampore and Moorshedabad could no longer be kept in
peace while the native troops retained their arms; it was determined
therefore, by Mr Spencer the commissioner, and Colonel Macgregor the
commandant, to adopt decisive measures while there was yet time. On the
1st of August, having the aid of H.M. 90th foot, they disarmed the 63d
native infantry and the 11th irregular cavalry at Berhampore; and on the
following day they similarly disarmed all the inhabitants of that place
and of Moorshedabad. Colonel Campbell, of the 90th, who had brought that
regiment from England in splendid condition in the _Himalaya_ steamer,
and who was on his way up the Ganges to the disturbed districts, was the
officer who practically effected this disarming at Berhampore; he spoke
of the 11th irregular cavalry as one of the most superb regiments he had
ever seen, in men, horses, and equipments; they were rendered almost
savage by the skill with which the colonel managed his delicate task;
and they reproached the sepoys of the 63d for having submitted so
quietly to the disarming. A little further up the country, at
Bhagulpore, about 200 troopers of the 5th irregular cavalry mutinied on
the 14th of August, taking the road towards Bowsee, but harming none of
their officers; on the 15th they passed through Bowsee to Rownee; and on
the 18th left Rownee for Gayah—bound for the disturbed regions in the
west. At Monghir, still higher up the Ganges, a terrible commotion was
produced by this occurrence; the civil commissioner shut himself up in a
fort, with a few of H.M. 5th Fusiliers, and left the city to its fate;
but fortunately Sir James Outram was at the time passing up the Ganges
in a steamer; he rebuked this pusillanimity, and recommended the
officials to shew a bolder front.
Arriving now at the Patna and Dinapoor district, we must trace the
progress of affairs more in detail, to shew how the authorities were
placed before, and how after, the mutiny which it is the chief object of
this chapter to narrate. Patna is a large and important city, the centre
of an industrious region; while Dinapoor, in the immediate vicinity, is
the largest military station between Barrackpore and Allahabad. Mr
Tayler, civil commissioner, was the chief authority at the one place;
Major-general Lloyd was military commandant at the other; and it was
essentially necessary, for the preservation of peace in all that region,
that these two officials should act in harmony. We have already seen
(pp. 151-154) that, about the middle of June, the Patna district became
much agitated by the news of disturbances in other quarters; that the
police force was thereupon strengthened, and the ghats or landing-places
watched; that some of the Company’s treasure was removed to other
stations; that places of rendezvous were agreed upon in case of
emergency; that conspiracies among the Moslem inhabitants were more than
once discovered, in concert with other conspirators at Lucknow and
Cawnpore; and that on the 3d of July some of the fanatics murdered Dr
Lyell, principal assistant to the opium agent. We have also seen, in the
same chapter, that Dinapoor reposed upon a sort of moral volcano
throughout June; that although the native troops made loud professions
of loyalty, the Europeans were nevertheless in a very anxious
position—all living near together, all on the alert, and most of them
believing that the fidelity of the sepoys was not worth many days’
purchase. Being thus on their guard, a mutiny ought not to have occurred
at their station; but it _did_ occur, and brought disgrace to the
general who was responsible for military affairs in that division.
An intelligent clue to this whole series of transactions will be
obtained by tracing—first, the Dinapoor mutiny itself; then the mingled
disasters and successes, blunders and heroism, at Arrah; then the effect
of the mutiny on the districts of Behar north of the Ganges; and,
lastly, the effects on the wide-spreading region south of that river.
The distance between the two cities is about ten miles. The barracks of
the European troops at Dinapoor were situated in a large square westward
of the native town; beyond this were the native lines; and most western
of all, by a very injudicious arrangement, was the magazine in which the
percussion-caps were stored—a matter apparently small in itself, but
serious in its consequences, as we shall presently see. Major-general
Lloyd, commander of the station, and of a vast military region called
the Dinapoor Division, had for some weeks been an object of almost as
much anxiety to the Europeans at the station as the sepoys themselves.
He was advanced in years, infirm, and irresolute. Unable to mount his
horse without assistance, and dreading to give orders that would have
the effect of sending any European troops away from Dinapoor, he was
singularly unfitted to cope with the difficulties of those times. It
points to some great defect in military routine, when one who had been a
gallant officer in his better days was thus left in possession of a
command he was no longer fitted to wield. Towards the close of July
there were three regiments of Bengal native infantry at that station,
the 7th, 8th, and 40th. There was also the greater portion of H.M. 10th
foot, together with two companies of the 37th, and two troops of
artillery. Not a British officer, except the major-general, doubted that
these Europeans could have disarmed and controlled the sepoys, had the
attempt been made at the proper time. The Calcutta inhabitants had
petitioned the governor-general to disarm the native regiments at
Dinapoor, and the officers of the Queen’s regiments at that station had
all along advocated a similar measure; but General Lloyd, like many
other Company’s officers, was proud of the sepoys, and trusted them to
the last; and Viscount Canning placed reliance on his experience, to
determine whether and when to effect this disarming. This reliance ended
in unfortunate results.
On the 25th of July, the appearance of affairs led the major-general to
exhibit less than his former confidence in the native troops; he shrank,
it is true, from disarming them; but he sought to render their arms less
dangerous by quietly removing the percussion-caps from the magazine. Now
these caps had to be brought in front of the whole length of the sepoy
lines on the way from the magazine to the English barracks. Early in the
morning he sent the 10th and the artillery to the grand square, ready to
be moved towards the sepoy lines if disturbance should occur. Two
hackeries went down to the magazine under charge of an officer; the caps
were placed in them; and the vehicles were drawn some distance towards
the English lines. There then arose a shout among the sepoys: ‘Kill the
sahibs; don’t let the caps be taken away!’ The caps were taken, however,
and safely conveyed to the officers’ mess-room. The 10th were kept idle
in the square or in barracks all the forenoon; while the native officers
were ordered to go to the native lines, and ask the sepoys to give up
the caps already issued to them. Some of the sepoys obeyed this strange
demand—strange, because backed by no display of power; while some fired
their muskets and threatened to shoot the officers. At the sound of
these shots the 10th were ordered hastily to advance; they did so, but
only to see the rebel sepoys run off as fast as their legs could carry
them. Inexpressible was the mortification of the officers at this sight;
three entire regiments escaped across fields, with their arms and
accoutrements, to swell the ranks of the mutineers elsewhere; and so
stupid had been the orders given, that there was no force at hand to
stop them. The 10th, two companies of the 37th, and the artillery, all
were burning to castigate these men; yet was the escape so quickly and
completely effected that very few of the sepoys fell. The English
destroyed the sepoy lines, but did not pursue the mutineers, for their
perplexed commander would not permit them to leave him in danger. A
surgeon of the 10th, on seeing the officers threatened by the sepoys,
brought his hospital-guards to confront them; and even some of his
patients got upon the flat roof of the hospital, and fired at the
rebels. He then galloped off, and brought all the ladies and children to
the barracks for safety. Every man of the 10th regiment was vexed and
irritated by this day’s work; complaints against the general were loud,
deep, and many; and all the officers’ letters told plainly of the
general feeling among them. The regiment numbered little more than four
hundred bayonets; for many men were sick in hospital, and a detachment
was at Benares; but the four hundred, highly disciplined men, would not
have hesitated an instant to disarm, to fight, to pursue, the three
thousand rebels, had they been properly instructed and permitted so to
do. During eight or ten weeks the officers of that regiment had urged
the disarming of the sepoys; but their recommendations had not been
listened to, and now it was too late. The general himself, on the
forenoon of the 25th, went on board a steamer in the Ganges: ‘I had no
horse in cantonment,’ he said. ‘My stable was two miles distant; and
being unable at the time to walk far or much, I thought I should be most
useful on board the steamer with guns and riflemen.’ It is deeply to be
regretted that an old soldier should have been so placed as to find such
an explanation necessary. As a consequence of this retreat to a place of
shelter, the officers remained without commands and without a commander.
Some of the mutineers embarked in boats, with the intention of going
down the Ganges to Patna, or of crossing the river; but the detachment
of the 37th, on shore and in the steamer, killed most of them by
rifle-shots. The steamer did its work, unquestionably; but it was not
the place for a military commander at such a time.
The question at once presented itself to the minds of all—whither had
the rebels gone? Evidence was soon afforded that the direction taken was
that of Arrah, a town twenty-four miles from Dinapoor, and separated
from it by the river Sone. Arrah, as a town, was not of great
importance; but it was the chief place in the district of Shahabad, and
was surrounded by a country whence much revenue was obtained by the East
India Company. During the troubles arising out of the mutiny, the chief
authority at Arrah was the magistrate, Mr Wake—a man who, by his energy
and public spirit, proved to be eminently fitted to hold power in
perilous times. During the whole of June and July he had watched the
progress of events with an anxious eye. Very soon after the mutiny
commenced, he wrote to the authorities at Calcutta, describing the
contents of certain native newspapers published about that time, and
suggesting the propriety of curbing the licence of those productions. On
the 10th of June he announced—with something like contempt in his
manner—that most of the Europeans employed on the railway-works near
Arrah had hurried away frightened by reports of mutinous symptoms at
Ghazeepore and Buxar; and he dwelt on the pernicious effects of the
example afforded by this timidity. About a week afterwards he induced
them all to return. From time to time he applied to Dinapoor, Patna, and
Calcutta, for a small detachment of troops to protect Arrah; but none
could be afforded. He suspected some of the chieftains and zemindars
near at hand, and more than suspected numerous disbanded sepoys who were
seen in the district; to detect plots, he detained and opened letters at
the post-office; but this course met with disapproval, as commencing a
system liable to great abuse. There were two influential men in the
neighbourhood—Baboo Koer Singh, and the Rajah of Doomraon—whose conduct
Mr Wake scrutinised very closely; they professed friendship and loyalty
to the government, but he doubted them. On the 11th of July, Arrah had
become surrounded by so many disbanded sepoys, and natives ready for any
mischief, that he applied to Patna for a party of Captain Rattray’s Sikh
police, which was furnished to him.
Thus matters proceeded until the 25th of July, when rumours of something
disastrous at Dinapoor arrived. Arrah was now about to become suddenly
famous. The ‘Defence of Arrah’ was to be narrated in dispatches and
letters, in pamphlets and books, and was to cheer up many who had been
humiliated by blunders committed elsewhere. True, it was only a house
defended, not a town; it was less than a score of Europeans saved, not a
whole community; yet did it bring well-deserved praise to those
concerned in it, and encouragement to a spirited line of conduct on the
part of the Company’s civil servants elsewhere.
[Illustration:
Mr Boyle’s house at Arrah, defended for seven days against 3000
rebels.
]
On the evening of the day just named, Mr Wake received express news that
the native troops at Dinapoor had actually mutinied, or shewed symptoms
of so doing within a few hours. On the morning of the 26th, he heard
that some of the mutineers were crossing the river Sone, at a point
sixteen miles from Dinapoor, and advancing upon Arrah. His Hindustani
local police speedily ran away; but he and a trusty band of civilians
resolved to remain at their posts. They selected the bungalow of one of
their number, Mr Boyle, an engineer of the main trunk railway, and made
that their fortress. Or, more correctly, it was a building which Mr
Boyle had selected for some such purpose as this many days or even weeks
before, when the state of affairs began to look gloomy; it was a
detached two-storied house, about fifty feet square, standing within the
same compound as the bungalow inhabited by Mr Boyle; he fortified it
with stones and timber, and always kept some provisions in it. When the
other civilians learned this, some of them smiled; but the smile became
one of gratitude on the 26th of July. The Europeans who now took up
their abode in this fortified house were Messrs Wake, Boyle, Littledale,
Combe, Colvin, Halls, Field, Anderson, Godfrey, Cock, Tait, Hoyle,
Delpeiron, De Songa, and Dacosta; and a Mohammedan deputy-collector,
Syud Azimoodeen—all employed in various civil duties in or near Arrah:
not a military man among them. With them were 50 Sikhs of Captain
Rattray’s police battalion. The ladies and children had been sent away
to a place of safety. All that the defenders could bring into the house
was meat and grain for a few days’ short allowance for the Europeans,
with a very scanty supply of food for the Sikhs. As to weapons, most of
the Europeans, besides revolvers and hog-spears, had two
double-barrelled guns each, or a gun and a rifle; they had abundance of
ammunition, and wherewithal to make cartridges by thousands. Early in
the morning of the 27th, nearly the whole of the Dinapoor mutineers
marched into Arrah, released the prisoners in the jail, about four
hundred in number, rushed to the collectorate, and looted the treasury
of eighty thousand rupees. They then advanced to Boyle’s house, and kept
up a galling fire against it during the whole day, finding shelter
behind trees and adjacent buildings. And now did Baboo Koer Singh shew
himself in his true colours; he threw off the mask of friendliness, and
boldly headed the mutineers. It was afterwards ascertained that this
man, supposed to be in league with Nena Sahib, had openly become a rebel
instantly on hearing of the mutiny at Dinapoor: it was he who had
procured the boats in which they crossed the Sone; and he formed a plan
for joining the Oude insurgents after plundering the treasury of Arrah.
When in front of Mr Boyle’s house, Koer Singh and his myrmidons
endeavoured to bribe the Sikhs to desert; but these stanch fellows
remained true to their salt. On the 28th the insurgents having brought
two small cannon, the hastily defended house had then to bear a torrent
of cannon-balls as well as of musket-bullets. Thus the siege continued
day after day. The rebels even dragged one of the cannon up to the roof
of Mr Boyle’s bungalow, about sixty yards off, whence they could fire
into the defended house. ‘Nothing,’ said Mr Wake in his dispatch, ‘but
the cowardice, ignorance, and want of unanimity of our enemies,
prevented our fortification from being brought down about our ears.’ As
fast as the strength of the attack was increased, so fast did the
garrison increase their defences; to oppose a new battery, a new
barricade was raised; to defeat a mine, a countermine was run out. The
Sikhs worked untiringly, and seemed to glory in the gallant defence they
were making. When provisions began to run low, they made a sally one
night, and brought in four sheep—a precious treasure to them at such a
time. Seven whole days and nights did this continue—three thousand men
besieging seventy. On the last two days the cowards offered ‘terms,’
which were contemptuously rejected. On the 2d of August the mutineers
marched off to the west of Arrah to fight Major Vincent Eyre; how they
fared, we shall see presently; but the battle brought about the
liberation of Mr Wake and his companions. Wonderful to relate, only one
member of the garrison, a Sikh policeman, received a dangerous wound;
all the rest escaped with mere bruises and scratches. The Sikhs were
justly proud of their share in the work. During the siege, when water
ran short, they dug a well underneath the house, and continued their
labour till they came to a spring; when all was happily ended, they
requested that the well might be built into a permanent one, as a
memento of their services; and that the house itself should receive the
inscription of ‘Futtehgurh’ or ‘stronghold of victory’—requests with
which Mr Boyle was not at all unwilling to comply.
We must now direct attention again to Patna and Dinapoor, and notice the
measures taken to check if possible the triumph of the mutineers. Mr
Tayler at the one place had civil control, and General Lloyd at the
other had military control, over Arrah as well as all other towns in the
neighbourhood; and both felt that that station was placed in peril as
soon as the mutineers moved westward from Dinapoor. Some weeks earlier,
when the railway officials had hurried away from Arrah to Dinapoor in
affright, Mr Tayler rebuked them, saying that, ‘this is a crisis when
every Englishman should feel that his individual example is of an
importance which it is difficult to calculate. It is of great
consequence that Europeans should exhibit neither alarm nor panic; and
that, whenever it is practicable, they should band together for mutual
defence and protection.’ This rebuke aided Mr Wake’s advice in bringing
the railway people back to Arrah. It may here be remarked that Mr Tayler
himself was, during the early part of July, in a state of discord, not
only with the natives, but with many of the Europeans at Patna. He had
an unseemly wrangle with Mr Lowis the magistrate; and was himself
frequently reprimanded by the lieutenant-governor of Bengal. This
anarchy appears to have arisen from the fact that, at a time of much
difficulty, different views were entertained concerning the best policy
to be pursued—views, advocated in a way that much obstructed public
business.
It was about one o’clock on the 25th that the authorities at Patna heard
alarming intelligence from Dinapoor. Mr Tayler at once summoned all the
Europeans resident in the city to his house, where measures of defence
were planned in case of an attack. At three o’clock a distant firing
announced that the mutiny had taken place; and within an hour or two
came the news that the mutinous regiments had marched off towards the
west. Mr Tayler made up an expeditionary force of about 100
persons—Sikhs, Nujeebs, recruits, and volunteers—and sent it off that
same night towards Arrah, to watch the movements of the rebels. At dawn
on the following morning, however, unfavourable news came in from many
country stations; and the commissioner, uneasy about Patna and its
neighbourhood, recalled the corps. Tayler and Lloyd did not work well
together at that crisis. The commissioner wrote to the general on the
day after the mutiny, urging him to send 50 European troops either to
Chupra or to Mozufferpoor, or both, to protect those places from an
attack threatened by insurgents. To this application Lloyd returned a
somewhat querulous answer—that he had only 600 Europeans at Dinapoor;
that he was afraid of treachery on the part of Koer Singh; that he had
already been blamed by the Calcutta authorities for listening to
applications for troops to defend Patna, instead of sending them on to
Allahabad; and that he could render no aid for the purposes required. Mr
Tayler renewed the subject by announcing that he would send 50 Sikhs to
the two places named; and he strongly urged the general to send 200 men
to rout the mutineers who had gone to Arrah—proposing, at the same time,
the establishment of a corps of volunteer cavalry among the officers and
gentlemen of Patna and Dinapoor. In most of these matters Mr Tayler
appears to have judged more soundly than General Lloyd; but in one point
he was fatally in error—he believed that Baboo Koer Singh of Jugdispore
would remain faithful to the British government.
If the ‘defence of Arrah’ has acquired notoriety, so has the ‘disaster’
at that place—to which we must now direct attention. This disaster was
peculiarly mortifying to the British, as giving a temporary triumph to
the mutineers, and as involving a positive loss of many English soldiers
at a critical period. The revolt at Dinapoor having occurred on Saturday
the 25th of July, General Lloyd made no effort until Monday the 27th to
look after the sepoys; but on that day he sent a party of the 37th foot
from Dinapoor towards Arrah, for the purpose of dispersing the mutineers
assembled at that place, and for rescuing the European community hemmed
in there. The troops went in the _Horungotta_ steamer; but this
unfortunately went aground after three hours’ steaming, and the plan was
frustrated. On the evening of Tuesday the 28th, another expedition was
organised; and it was to this that the disastrous loss occurred. The
steamer _Bombay_ happening to arrive at Dinapoor in her downward passage
on the Ganges, Lloyd detained it, and arranged to send a detachment on
board. The _Bombay_ was to take a certain number of troops, steam up to
the spot where the _Horungotta_ had run aground, take in tow the
detachment from that steamer, and proceed up the river Sone to a
landing-place as near as possible to Arrah. This river enters the Ganges
at a point a few miles west of Dinapoor. Early in the morning of
Wednesday the 29th, the steamer started, and after picking up the other
detachment, the whole disembarked in the afternoon at Beharee Ghat—over
400 men in all, under Captain Dunbar.[65] The landing having been safely
effected on the left or west bank of the Sone, the troops marched to a
nullah which it was necessary to cross by means of boats. When, after a
considerable delay, this was accomplished, they resumed their march,
with a bright moon above them, a rough road beneath them, and a very few
of the enemy in sight; and the evening was far advanced when they
reached a bridge about a mile and a half short of Arrah. Here Captain
Harrison of the 37th suggested that they should halt until daylight, and
not incur the danger of entering the town by night; but Captain Dunbar,
of the 10th, who commanded the force, overruled this suggestion, under
an unfortunate impression that there would be little or no opposition.
This was the fatal mistake that wrecked the whole enterprise. The troops
arrived at Arrah at eleven at night, in black darkness, for the moon had
set; then passed through the outskirts of the town—the 10th leading,
then the Sikhs, then the 37th. Suddenly, while passing by a large tope
of mango-trees, a dreadful musketry-fire flashed out of the gloom; the
enemy, it now appeared, had been lying in ambush awaiting the arrival of
the unsuspecting force. Mr Wake and his companions were startled by the
sound of this musketry, audible enough in their beleaguered but
well-defended house; they at once inferred that something wrong had
occurred to British troops, and in this inference they were only too
correct. The suddenness of the attack, and the blackness of the night,
seem to have overwhelmed the detachment; the men lost their officers,
the officers their men: some ran off the road to fire into the tope,
others to obtain shelter; Dunbar fell dead; and Harrison had to assume
the command of men whom, at midnight and in utter darkness, he could not
see. The main body succeeded in reassembling in a field about four
hundred yards from the tope; and there they remained until
daylight—being joined at various periods of the night by stragglers,
some wounded and some unhurt, and being fired at almost continually by
the mutineers. It was a wretched humiliating night to the British. At
daybreak they counted heads, and then found how severe had been their
loss. Captain Harrison at once collecting the survivors into a body,
marched them back ten or eleven miles to the steamer. The men had fasted
so long (twenty-four hours), through some mismanagement, that they were
too weak to act as skirmishers; they defended themselves as long as
their ammunition lasted, but kept in column, pursued the whole way by a
large body of the enemy, who picked off the poor fellows with fatal
certainty. Arrived at the banks of the nullah, all organisation ceased;
the men rushed to the boats in disorder; some were run aground, some
drowned, some swam over, some were shot by sepoys and villagers on
shore. How the rest reached the steamer, they hardly knew; but this they
did know—that they had left many of their wounded comrades on shore,
with the certain fate of being butchered and mutilated by the enemy. It
was a mournful boat-load that the _Bombay_ carried back to Dinapoor on
the evening of the 30th of July. Captain Dunbar, Lieutenants Bagnall and
Ingilby, Ensigns Erskine, Sale, Birkett, and Anderson, and Messrs Cooper
and Platt (gentlemen-volunteers) were killed; Lieutenant Sandwith,
Ensign Venour, and Messrs Garstin and Macdonell (gentlemen-volunteers)
were wounded. Out of fifteen officers, twelve were killed or wounded.
The dismal list enumerated 170 officers and men killed, and 120
wounded—290 out of 415! Havelock won half-a-dozen of his victories with
no greater loss than this.
Here, then, was one disaster on the heels of another. General Lloyd’s
vacillation had permitted the native troops at Dinapoor to mutiny; and
now the unfortunate Captain Dunbar’s mismanagement had led to the
destruction of nearly two-thirds of the force sent to rout those
mutineers. Happily, Messrs Wake and Boyle, and their companions, still
held out; and happily there was a gallant officer near who had the skill
to command as well as the courage to fight. This officer was Major
Vincent Eyre, of the artillery. Being _en route_ up the Ganges with some
guns from Dinapoor to Allahabad, and having arrived at Ghazeepore on the
28th of July, he there learned the critical position of the handful of
Europeans in the house at Arrah. He applied to the authorities at
Ghazeepore for permission to make an attempt to relieve Mr Wake; they
gave it: he steamed back to Buxar, and there met a detachment of the 5th
Fusiliers going up the Ganges. Finding the officers and men heartily
willing to aid him, he formed a plan for marching a field-force from
Buxar to Arrah, and there attacking the Dinapoor mutineers and their
accomplice Koer Singh. Although dignified with the name of a
field-force, it consisted simply of about 160 men of H.M. 5th Fusiliers
under Captain L’Estrange, 12 mounted volunteers of the railway
department, and three guns; but under an able commander, it was destined
to prove more than a match for nearly _twenty times_ its number of
native troops. On the 30th of July, the morning when the detachment from
Dinapoor retreated from Arrah under such deplorable circumstances, Eyre
commenced a series of operations west of that town. He started from
Buxar, and marched twenty-eight miles to Shawpoor, where he heard of the
disaster that had overwhelmed Captain Dunbar’s party. He at once stated
to General Lloyd, in a dispatch: ‘I venture to affirm confidently that
no such disaster would have been likely to occur, had that detachment
advanced less precipitately, so as to have given full time for my force
to have approached direct from the opposite side; for the rebels would
then have been hemmed in between the two opposing forces, and must have
been utterly routed.’ Regret, however, being useless, Eyre proceeded to
carry out his own plan. Hearing that the enemy intended to destroy the
bridges _en route_, he pushed on again towards Arrah. On the 1st of
August, finding the bridge at Bullowtee just cut, he hastily constructed
a substitute, and marched on to Gujeratgunje by nightfall. Here he
bivouacked for the night. At daybreak on the 2d he started again, and
soon came in sight of the enemy, drawn up in great force in plantations
on either side of the road, with inundated rice-fields in front; they
had sallied out of Arrah to meet him. Perceiving that the enemy intended
to turn his flanks, he boldly pushed on against their centre, penetrated
it, and advanced to the village of Beebeegunje. The enemy, baffled by
his tactics, gave up their first plan, and hastily sought to prevent his
passage over a bridge near the village. In this they succeeded for a
time, by destroying the bridge. After resting his troops a while,
Eyre—seeing that the enemy had formed extensive earthworks beyond the
stream, and that they occupied the houses of the village in great
force—determined to make a detour to the right, and try to cross about a
mile higher up. The enemy, seeing his object, followed him quickly, and
attacked him with great boldness, being flushed by their recent victory
over the luckless river detachment. They were nearly 2500 strong in
mutinous sepoys alone, besides Koer Singh and his followers. After an
hour’s hard fighting, Eyre ordered Captain L’Estrange to make a charge
with infantry. Promptly and gallantly that officer obeyed the order; his
skirmishers on the right turned the enemy’s flank, the guns with grape
and shrapnell shells drove in the centre; and then the infantry
advanced—driving the enemy, panic-stricken, in all directions. Losing no
time, the major crossed the stream, and advanced through an open country
to within four miles of Arrah. Here he was suddenly brought up by an
impassable river, which cost him many hours’ hard labour to bridge
over—obtaining, fortunately, for that purpose, the aid of labourers
employed on the East Indian Railway, just close at hand. Koer Singh and
the rebels were so dismayed at these proceedings, that they left Arrah
altogether, and retreated in various directions. It seems almost
incredible, although the detailed official list places the matter beyond
all doubt, that Major Eyre, during nine hours’ severe fighting on this
day, lost only 2 killed and 14 wounded.
As a means of enabling this energetic officer to follow up his success,
a reinforcement was sent to him from Dinapoor on the 7th of August,
consisting of 200 of H.M. 10th foot. This reinforcement entered Arrah on
the next day; and a party of 100 Sikhs having arrived a day or two
afterwards, the major was enabled to lay his plans for an expedition to
Jugdispore, twelve miles distant, to which place Koer Singh and a large
number of the mutineers had retired. The enterprise was not to be
commenced without some caution; for the roads were difficult for the
passage of troops at that season of the year, and the rebel chief’s fort
at Jugdispore was represented as being very strong and well defended.
All this, however, only whetted the desire of Eyre’s troops to try their
mettle against the enemy. The force consisted of just 500 men,[66] with
three guns. On the afternoon of the 11th he took his departure from
Arrah, marched eight miles, and encamped for the night on the bank of
the Gagur Nuddee. Resuming his progress next morning, he passed over two
miles of rice-fields nearly under water, which rendered the draught of
his guns very difficult. At eleven o’clock he espied some of the enemy
in the village of Tola Narainpore, evidently preparing to resist his
passage of a river immediately beyond. After a fight of skirmishers,
Eyre opened a fire of grape which roused up a large body of the enemy
concealed behind bushes. The detachment of the 10th foot, eager to
emulate the previous heroism of their comrades of the 5th Fusiliers, and
exasperated by their previous loss under Captain Dunbar, asked to be
permitted to charge the enemy at once; Eyre consented; Captain Patterson
led them on; they rushed with a shout and a cheer, and the enemy gave
way before a charge which they found irresistible. The other infantry
came up and assisted in dispersing the enemy from another village,
Dullaur, beyond the river. This accomplished, Eyre marched a mile and a
half through thick jungle to Jugdispore, maintaining a running-fight the
whole way. The treacherous Koer Singh’s stronghold was but feebly
defended; Eyre took possession of it early in the afternoon, and with it
large stores of grain, ammunition, and warlike material. The villagers
around Jugdispore immediately sent in tokens of submission to the
conqueror. Here as in the former instance, Major Eyre suffered
wonderfully small loss; not a man of his force was killed on this 12th
of August, and only six were wounded. The enemy lost 300.
Eyre did not give Koer Singh much time to recover himself. The rebel
chief fled with a few followers to the Jutowrah jungle, where he had a
residence. Thither the major followed him on the 14th, or rather sent
Captain L’Estrange with a detachment; but all had dispersed, sepoys and
rebels alike; and L’Estrange returned after destroying residences
belonging to Koer Singh and his two brothers.
It may suffice here to mention, that, so far as concerned the region
south and southwest of Arrah, the remaining days of August were spent in
the marching of the Dinapoor mutineers from place to place, and the
plundering or threatening of many towns as they passed. The authorities
would gladly have checked the course of so many armed rebels; but it
became a question whether Eyre or any other officer was strong enough in
Europeans to do so, and whether their aid was not more urgently needed
at Allahabad, Cawnpore, and Lucknow. The mutineers marched southward of
Mirzapore into Bundelcund, with the treacherous Koer Singh at their
head. The engineers and others connected with the works for the East
Indian railway were among those most perplexed by this movement of the
rebels; because the various places occupied temporarily by those persons
were just in the way of the mutineers. A lady, wife to one of these
officials, has recorded in a letter that she and her friends received
early news on the 25th of July that something was wrong at Dinapoor;
that on the 26th the rebels themselves made their appearance; that the
family got into a boat on the Sone, with no property but the clothes on
their backs; that they immediately rowed off towards Dinapoor as the
only means of escape; and that scarcely had they embarked when they saw
bungalow’s and property of every description—belonging to individuals,
to the railway company, and to the East India Company—a prey to
devastating flames. ‘Everything we have in the world is gone,’ said the
disconsolate writer; ‘what to do, or where to go, we know not.’ It is no
wonder that the letters of such sufferers contained bitter comments on
the government and politics of India—bitter, but often unjust.
The effects of this mutiny of the Dinapoor sepoys were, as has already
been remarked, deep and wide-spreading. It is scarcely too much to say
that twenty or thirty millions of persons were thrown into agitation by
it. Along the whole line of the Ganges it was felt, from Calcutta up to
Allahabad; along the great trunk-road between these two cities, it was
felt; in the belt of country north of the Ganges; in the belt between
the Ganges and the great road; in the belt south of the great road—in
all these extensive regions, the news from Dinapoor threw Christians and
natives alike into a ferment. Some discontented natives had vague hopes
of advantage by the threatened dissolution of the English ‘raj;’ some of
the villagers dreaded the approach of marauders who made little scruple
in pillaging friend as well as foe; while all the Europeans cried out as
with one voice: ‘Send us reliable British troops.’ Viscount Canning had
none to send; and when ship-loads of troops did at length arrive at
Calcutta, they were so urgently wanted higher up the country that he
could spare few or none for regions east of Allahabad.
The revenue-officers were placed in a position of trying difficulty in
those days. Besides collecting the taxes on land, salt, &c., and keeping
the money in the local treasuries until it could be sent safely to
Calcutta, they stored up large quantities of opium at certain factories,
which were in their special keeping. The Company were the purchasers of
the opium from the poppy-growers, and the sellers of it (at a large
profit) to British merchants at Calcutta or Bombay; and during the
interval of time between the buying and selling, the opium was stored in
godowns or warehouses at certain large towns. Patna was the chief of
these towns; and thus the revenue-officers of that place were especially
interested in the maintenance of tranquillity among the native troops in
the neighbouring station at Dinapoor. Dr Lyell, as was stated in a
former page, fell a victim to Mussulman fanaticism at Patna early in
July, about three weeks before the mutiny at Dinapoor. On the very day
before his murder, anxious for the responsibility thrown upon him, he
wrote an official letter which is interesting as illustrating the matter
now under consideration. He had just succeeded the chief opium-agent,
lately deceased, and had under his charge opium to the enormous value of
_two millions_ sterling, together with other government property of a
quarter of a million. He had endeavoured to strengthen the opium godowns
by barricading the gates with timber, and raising a breastwork of chests
filled with sand on the flat roofs—fearful lest an excited rabble should
attack the place. He had less than twenty Europeans on whom he could
rely. Major-general Lloyd at Dinapoor either could not or would not
supply him with any troops; and he sent to Calcutta urgent requisitions
for British troops, Sikh police, and guns. Matters became worse; Lyell
himself was massacred, and the native troops at Dinapoor mutinied; then,
at the end of July, the revenue-officers at Patna announced to the
government that the property under their charge had accumulated to three
millions sterling, and that they could not adequately protect it unless
reinforcements were sent. This appeared so serious at Calcutta, that
arrangements were made for throwing a few British troops, and a few
reliable Sikhs, into Patna.
The region north of the Ganges and east of Oude was in a perpetual state
of flutter and uneasiness during those troubled weeks. There were few
troops, either native or British; but the rumours from other quarters,
gaining strength as they passed from mouth to mouth, occasioned great
uneasiness, especially among the Europeans engaged in indigo-planting
and other industrial pursuits. There was a small military station at
Segowlie, not far from the Nepaul frontier, under the charge of Major
Holmes; and this officer thought proper, even before the month of June
was ended, to proclaim martial law in the districts between Segowlie and
Patna. Mr Tayler, commissioner at the last-named city, thought this a
bold proceeding; but he sanctioned it on account of the disturbed state
of the country. The Calcutta government, however, considered that the
major had overstrained his authority, and rebuked him for so doing.
Before he could be informed of this rebuke, Holmes had assumed absolute
military control over all the region between Patna and Goruckpore—giving
orders to magistrates to watch the ghats or landing-places, to arrest
suspicious persons, to offer rewards for the apprehension of rebels, to
keep an eye on the petty rajahs and chieftains, to strengthen the native
police, and to act in all things subordinately to him as military
commander throughout the districts of Sarun, Tirhoot, and Chumparun.
Military men applauded this step, but the civilians took umbrage at an
assumption of power not warranted by any instructions received from
Calcutta. This energetic but hapless officer was not permitted to remain
many weeks in the position which he had taken up; his chief troops were
the 12th irregular cavalry; and these rose on the 24th of July at
Segowlie, murdered him and Mrs Holmes, as well as other Europeans, and
then bent their steps towards Azimghur. This atrocity caused great
consternation; for the 12th had been much trusted among the native
regiments, as one whose gallantry was a guarantee for its fidelity.
Gallantry was exchanged for cowardice and villainy this day. While the
major and his wife were riding out, four of the troopers came up to the
vehicle and _beheaded them both_ as they sat; this being the signal, the
rest of the regiment rose in mutiny, murdered the surgeon, his wife, and
children, plundered the treasury, and made off in the way just noticed.
When this savage act became known, and when the mutiny at Dinapoor on
the next following day was also known, nothing could exceed the
agitation among the Europeans. At Chupra, a station nearly opposite
Arrah, the Europeans at once abandoned their homes and occupations, and
ran off to Dinapoor, to be behind the shelter of a few hundred English
bayonets; this was, indeed, not to be wondered at, for Chupra itself was
threatened by the Segowlie mutineers. On the 30th, when the events at
Dinapoor became known at Calcutta, the government did all and more than
all that Major Holmes had before done; they declared martial law—not
only in the northern districts of Sarun, Tirhoot, and Chumparun, but
also in those districts of the Patna division south of the Ganges—Patna,
Behar, and Shahabad. All through the month of August, the districts
north of the river were in the state just noticed; no further mutinies
took place there, but the various stations were thrown into frequent
panics by the threatened irruption of insurgents from other quarters. It
was chiefly from Oude that these onslaughts were feared; for that
province contained more rebels than any other—more natives who, without
being actually soldiers, were quite ready to embark in any desperate
enterprise, military or marauding, against the English.
We have said that the whole region right and left of the main trunk-road
was thrown into commotion by the mutiny at Dinapoor; this was certainly
the case, if we add to the disturbing causes the revolt of one or two
minor corps within this region itself. To describe how the region is
parcelled out into divisions, districts, and collectorates, is wholly
unnecessary: few in England know, and still fewer care, much concerning
these territorial details; but if the reader will roughly mark out with
his eye a sweep of country four hundred miles long by a hundred and
fifty in width, beginning at Moorshedabad or Midnapore, and ending at
Benares, and lying on the right or south of the Ganges—he will there see
that which, in July and August, was a region of perplexity. Small
military stations, and much more numerous civil stations, dot this
space. The dispatches relating to the events of those two months spoke
of dangers and alarms at places not one half of which are known even by
name to any but persons intimately connected with India—Hazarebagh,
Sheergotty, Burhee, Ramgurh, Sasseram, Bhagulpore, Bagoda, Ranchee,
Bowsee, Gayah, Pittorea, Raneegunge, Rownee, Dorunda, Chyebassa, Rotas,
Purulia, Bancorah, Dehree, Rotasgurh—all were places either disturbed by
the visits of mutineers, or thrown into commotion lest those visits
should be made at a time when means of defence were scanty.
It not unfrequently happened, at that troubled period, that while the
British officers were making arrangements to disarm suspected regiments,
the men of those regiments anticipated that proceeding by marching off
in mutiny, of course taking their arms with them. Such happened to
Lieutenant Graham, commanding at Hazarebagh. Being at Dorunda on the
30th of July, and learning that the 8th B. N. I. were unreliable at
Hazarebagh, he marched off with a view to disarm them; taking with him
about 220 Ramgurh infantry, 30 Ramgurh cavalry, and two 6-pounder guns.
On that very day, long before he could reach Hazarebagh, the sepoys rose
in mutiny, plundered the treasury, and released all the prisoners.
Graham soon found himself in difficulties; he could not pass his guns
over the river Damoodah at Ramgurh, because his bullocks were too few
and too weak; and his Ramgurh infantry shewed signs of a disposition to
march back to Dorunda and take the guns with them. After an anxious
night, he crossed the river on the morning of the 31st, with his few
troopers; but his infantry broke their faith, and marched away with the
two guns. So far, therefore, from being able to disarm a suspected
regiment, the lieutenant had the mortification of hearing that the
regiment had mutinied, and, in addition, of seeing his own infantry
follow the pernicious example. One fact cheered Lieutenant Graham in his
anxious duty; his 30 sowars remained faithful to him. When Captain Drew,
who commanded the detachment at Hazarebagh, came to make his report, it
appeared that the men of the 8th B. N. I. numbered just 200 bayonets,
forming two companies of one of the regiments lately mutinied at
Dinapoor. When news reached the captain, on the 28th, of this last-named
mutiny, he made arrangements for removing the ladies and children from
the station, as he had seen enough to make him distrust his own men; he
also sent to Colonel Robbins at Dorunda, for the aid of Lieutenant
Graham’s Ramgurh force, and to Calcutta for any available aid in the
shape of European troops. Four ladies and six children were forwarded to
a place of safety, and Captain Drew passed the 29th in some anxiety. On
the 30th he addressed his men, praising the sepoys who in certain
regiments had remained faithful while their comrades revolted; his
native officers seemed to listen to him respectfully, but the sepoys
maintained an ominous silence. On that same afternoon the men ran to the
bells of arms, broke them open, and seized their muskets. The die was
cast. All the officers, military and civil, jumped on their horses, and
rode for twelve hours through jungle, reaching Bagoda on the trunk-road
on the morning of the 31st; after two hours’ rest they galloped forty
miles further, then took transit dâk to Raneegunge, whence they
travelled to Calcutta by railway. Meanwhile the mutineers released 800
prisoners, burned the bungalows, and pillaged the treasury of seventy
thousand rupees. Whether a bold front might have prevented all this,
cannot now be known; Captain Drew asserted that if he and the other
officers had remained, they must inevitably have been killed on the
spot.
An instructive illustration was afforded towards the close of July, of
the intimate connection between the rebel sepoys and the villages of
Behar or Western Bengal. The government issued a proclamation, offering
rewards for the apprehension of mutineers and deserters. Mr Money,
magistrate at Gayah, found by inquiries that the inhabitants of the
villages refused to aid in giving up such men; but he hit upon a mode of
ascertaining at least the connection between the sepoys and the villages
respectively. Every sepoy remitted to his village a portion of his pay,
by means of remittance-bills and descriptive rolls; each bill went to
the accountant; the receipt of the payee went back to the regiment;
while the descriptive roll was kept and filed in the office of the
magistrate, shewing the name and regiment of the remitter. Mr Money
thought it useful to collect and tabulate all these descriptive rolls
for two years; and thus was able to obtain a record of the name of every
sepoy belonging to every village within his jurisdiction. He could thus
track any rebel soldier who might return to his village in hope of
escaping punishment; for the native police, if ordered to apprehend a
particular man in a particular district would do so, although unwilling
to initiate inquiries. The matter is noted here, as shewing how closely
the ties of family were kept up by the sepoys in this regular
transmission of money from the soldier in his camp to his relations in
their village.
During the first half of the month of July, before the state of affairs
at Dinapoor had assumed a serious import, the towns and districts
recently named were troubled rather by vague apprehensions than by
actual dangers. At Gayah, the chief town of a district south of Patna,
the magistrate was in much anxiety; the native inhabitants, in part
hopefully and in part fearfully, were looking out daily for news from
the mutineers in the Jumna and Ganges regions; and he felt much doubt
whether the Company’s treasury at that place was safe. So it was in most
of the towns and stations; from Raneegunge, where the finished portion
of the railway ended (at about a hundred and twenty miles from
Calcutta), to the districts approaching Benares and Patna, magistrates
and revenue-collectors, feeling their responsibility as civil servants
of the Company, cried aloud to Calcutta for a few, even a very few,
English troops, to set at rest their apprehensions; but Calcutta, as
these pages have over and over again shewn, had no troops to spare
except for the great stations further to the northwest.
As the month advanced, these symptoms of uneasiness increased in number
and intensity; and when the isolated mutineers at Rownee, Monghir,
Hazarebagh, &c., became intensified by the more momentous outbreak at
Dinapoor, fear grew in some instances up to panic, and the Company’s
officers hastened away from stations which they believed themselves
unable to hold. But here, as elsewhere, difficulties raised different
qualities in different minds; many of these gentlemen behaved with a
heroism worthy of all praise, as Mr Wake and Mr Boyle had done at Arrah.
At some of the places not a single English soldier could be seen, or was
likely to be seen at that time; and under those circumstances it was a
fact of high importance that Captain Rattray’s battalion of Sikh police
remained stanch and true—ready to march in small detachments to any
threatened spot, and always rendering good service. When the two
companies of the 8th B. N. I. mutinied at Hazarebagh, towards the close
of the month, and when the Ramgurh force followed their example instead
of opposing them, the civilians in this wide region were really placed
in great peril; Hazarebagh wished to know what Ramgurh would do,
Sheergotty looked anxiously towards Gayah, and Raneegunge feared for the
safety of its railway station. The Raneegunge officials, after fleeing
to Calcutta, returned to their station about the middle of August, under
the protection of Sikh police. The wife of one of the civil servants of
the Company, writing from Raneegunge on the 7th of August, told of the
sad condition in which European fugitives reached that place, coming
from various disturbed districts. ‘We are overwhelmed with refugees from
all places. Some of the poor creatures have come without a thing but
what they have on, and I am obliged to give them all changes of clothes
for a time. Many came after riding seventy miles on one horse, and one
gentleman without a saddle—a doctor and two others in their
night-clothes—as they started while the wretches were firing into their
bungalows. My husband had to lend them clothes to go to Calcutta in.’
The telegraphic messages or written letters that passed between Calcutta
and the various stations in Western Bengal, in July and August, occupy a
very large space in the blue-books relating to the mutiny; they
everywhere tell of officials expressing apprehensions of being obliged
to flee unless reinforcements could be sent to them; and of distinct
replies from the governor-general that, as he had no troops to send
them, they must bear up as long as their sagacity and resolution would
permit. The Europeans at Sheergotty left that station in a body, not
because they were attacked, but because they saw no hope of defence if
enemies should approach. Many Europeans, however, similarly placed,
afterwards regretted that they had fled; instances were not few of the
moral power obtained over the native mind by men who resolutely clung to
their duty in moments of peril; while in those cases where the
abandonment took place, ‘the thieves and rabble of the neighbourhood,’
as an eye-witness remarked, ‘plundered the cutcheries and private
houses; and those who had grudges against their neighbours began to hope
and to prepare for an opportunity of vengeance.’
August found matters in an equally unsettled state. Many of the
magistrates and collectors now had a new difficulty. Mr Tayler, as
commissioner for the whole of the Patna division, ordered such of them
as were under his control to abandon their stations and come into Patna
for shelter; many were quite willing to do so; but others, resolute and
determined men, did not like this appearance of shrinking from their
duty in time of trouble. Mr Money, the magistrate of Gayah, called a
meeting of the Europeans at that station, and read Mr Tayler’s order to
them; it was decided by vote to abandon the place and its treasure, and
retreat to Patna. ‘We formed rather a picturesque cavalcade,’ said one
of the number, ‘as we wound out from Gayah; the elephants and horses;
the scarlet of the Europeans contrasting with the white dresses of the
Sikh soldiery; the party of gentlemen, armed to the teeth, who rode in
the midst; and the motley assemblage of writers, servants, and
hangers-on that crowded in the rear.’ While on the road towards Patna,
two of the gentlemen, Mr Money and Mr Hollings, feeling some humiliation
at the position they were in, resolved to march back to their posts even
if none others accompanied them. It happened that a few men of the 64th
foot had passed through Gayah a day or two before, and Mr Money was
enabled to bring them back for a short period. These two officials, it
is true, were afterwards driven away from Gayah by a band of released
prisoners, and fled to Calcutta; but their firmness in an hour of
difficulty won for them approval and promotion from the government. This
transaction at Gayah was connected with a series of quarrels which led
to much partisan spirit. Mr Tayler had long been in disfavour with Mr
Halliday, lieutenant-governor of Bengal, as an official of a very
intractable and insubordinate character; and after the issue of the
order lately adverted to, Mr Tayler was removed from his office
altogether—a step that led to a storm of letters, papers, pamphlets,
charges, and counter-charges, very exciting to the Calcutta community at
that time, but having little permanent interest in connection with the
mutiny.
As the month advanced, the government were able to send a few English
troops to some of the stations above named. When Mr Halliday had
learned, by telegrams and letters, that not a single European remained
in Sheergotty or Bagoda, and that the native troops of the Ramgurh
battalion had mutinied at Ranchee, Purulia, and elsewhere, he earnestly
begged Lord Canning to send a few troops thither, or the whole region
would be left at the mercy of marauding bands. This the governor-general
was fortunately enabled to do, owing to the arrival about that time of
troops from the China expedition.
When August ended, the Dinapoor mutineers, under Koer Singh, were
marching onwards to the Jumna regions, as if with the intention of
joining the mutineers in Bundelcund; the 12th irregulars, after their
atrocity at Segowlie, were bending their steps towards Oude; the Ramgurh
mutineers were marching westward to the Sone, as if to join Koer Singh;
while the petty chieftains, liberated prisoners, and ruffians of all
kinds, were looking out for ‘loot’ wherever there was a chance of
obtaining it. Bengal and Behar exhibited nothing that could be dignified
with the name of battles or war; it was simply anarchy, with
insufficient force on the part of the authorities to restore order.
One unfortunate result of the Dinapoor mutiny was, that the Europeans
contracted a sentiment of hatred towards the natives, so deadly as to
defeat all the purposes of justice and fairness. When Sir James Outram
was at Dinapoor, on his way up the Ganges, he found that some of the
English soldiers had murdered several sepoys against whom nothing could
be charged—in revenge for the terrible loss suffered at Arrah. Sir James
noticed in one of his dispatches, with strong expressions of regret, the
distortion of feeling thus brought about by the mutiny; distortion,
because those soldiers were not, at other times, less inclined to be
just and manly than the other regiments of her Majesty’s army. It was a
sore trial for men, when scenes of brutal cruelty were everywhere before
their eyes, coolly to draw the line between justice and vengeance, and
to discriminate between the innocent and the guilty.
-----
Footnote 65:
H.M. 10th foot, 153 officers and men.
H.M. 37th foot, 197 officers and men.
Sikhs of police battalion, 50 officers and men.
Sikhs of mutinied regiments, 15 officers and men.
———
415
Footnote 66:
H.M. 5th Fusiliers, 137 men, under Captain L’Estrange; H.M. 10th foot,
197 men, under Captain Patterson; Sikh battalion, 150 men, under Mr
Wake, of Arrah celebrity; mounted volunteers, 16, under Lieutenant
Jackson.
CHAPTER XVII.
MINOR MUTINIES: JULY AND AUGUST.
The reader will easily appreciate the grounds on which it is deemed
inexpedient to carry out uninterruptedly the history of the mutiny at
any one spot. Unless contemporaneous events elsewhere be noticed, links
in the chain of causes and effects will be wanting. We have traced the
siege of Delhi down to a certain point in the line of operations; we
have followed the footsteps of Havelock until he reached the
ball-shattered home of the European residents at Lucknow; we have
watched the more immediate effects of the Dinapoor mutiny in the regions
of Bengal and Behar. It now, however, becomes necessary to inquire what
was doing elsewhere during the months of July and August—how the
Europeans at Agra fared, when the stations on all sides of them were in
the hands of the insurgents; how far the affrighted women and tender
children succeeded in finding refuge at the hill-stations of Nynee Tal
and its neighbourhood; what the Mahratta followers of Scindia and Holkar
were doing; to what extent Rohilcund and the Cis-Sutlej territory were
thrown into anarchy; whether or not Bombay and Madras, Nagpoor and the
Nizam’s country, remained at peace; how, in short, India generally was
affected during the two months above named. Fortunately, this duty will
not demand so full a measure of treatment as the analogous narratives
for earlier months. The isolated revolts in June occupied attention in
three successive Chapters[67]—because of their great number, the
wide-spreading area over which they occurred, the sufferings of many of
the Europeans, the romantic adventures of others, the daring bravery of
nearly all, and the necessity for describing the geographical and
military peculiarities of the several provinces and stations. These
matters having once been treated with moderate fulness, the narrative
may now proceed at an accelerated pace; insomuch that we shall be
enabled, in the present chapter, to take a bird’s-eye glance at the
isolated or miscellaneous events, whether mutinies or suppressions of
mutiny, belonging to the months of July and August.
Let us begin by directing attention to that small but thickly populated
country lying between Patna and Allahabad, and extending in the other
direction from the Ganges to Nepaul. Goruckpore, Ghazeepore, Azimghur,
Jounpoor, and Benares, all lie within this region; Dinapoor, Buxar,
Mirzapore, Sultanpore, and Fyzabad, lie just beyond it; and towns and
villages of smaller character bestrew it more thickly than any other
part of India. When Henry Lawrence was dead, and Inglis powerless in
Oude for anything beyond maintaining his position in Lucknow; when
Wheeler had been killed at Cawnpore, and Lloyd superseded at Dinapoor;
when Colvin was shut up in Agra, and could do very little as
lieutenant-governor of the Northwest Provinces—there was scarcely any
one who could exercise control within the region just marked out. If a
magistrate, collector, or commandant, succeeded in maintaining British
supremacy by mingled courage and sagacity, so far well; but he was in
few instances able to exercise power beyond the limits of his own town
or station. Under these circumstances, Viscount Canning created a new
office, that of ‘Lieutenant-governor of the Central Provinces,’ and gave
it to Mr J. P. Grant, one of the members of the Supreme Council at
Calcutta. The object in view was to restore order to a large range of
country that had been thrown into utter anarchy. The title was not,
perhaps, happily chosen; for there was already a ‘Central India,’
comprising the Mahratta country around Indore or Malwah; and, moreover,
a jurisdiction was hardly ‘central’ that ran up to the borders of
Nepaul. Passing by this, however, the newly aggregated ‘Central
Provinces’ comprised the Allahabad division, the Benares division, and
the Saugor division; containing a large number of important cities and
towns.
When Mr Grant assumed his new duties in August, he found that the
Goruckpore district was entirely in the hands of rebels. The leader of
the rebels was one Mahomed Hussein, who was at the head of a poorly
armed rabble, rather than of an organised military force, and who, with
that rabble, had been perpetrating acts of great barbarity. One
civilian, Mr Bird, had displayed that gallant spirit which so honourably
marked many of the Company’s servants: he remained behind, at his own
request, when the rest of the civil officers fled from Goruckpore; he
hoped to be able to maintain his position, but was forced after a time
to yield to the pressure of adverse circumstances, and escape to
Bettiah. The governor-general, during the month of June, accepted aid
which had been offered some time previously, by Jung Bahadoor of Nepaul.
In pursuance of this agreement, three thousand Goorkhas were sent down
from Khatmandoo, and entered British territory northward of Goruckpore.
They were ordered on shortly afterwards to Azimghur; and most of the
Goruckpore officials, availing themselves of this escort, quitted the
station with their movables and the government treasure. Some of the
Goorkhas then remained for a time at Azimghur, while the rest went to
escort the treasure to Jounpoor and Benares. While at Goruckpore, the
Goorkhas assisted in disarming such native troops as were at the
station. Much was expected from these hardy troops, and it is only just
to observe that they generally warranted the expectation. It was late in
June that the arrangement was entered into, the immediate object in view
being the pacification of the very districts now under notice.
The Azimghur district had its full share in the troubles of the period.
During the first half of July, mutinous sepoys from other stations were
frequently threatening the town of Azimghur, and keeping the Europeans
perpetually on the watch. The 65th native infantry were very turbulent
in the vicinity. On a particular day the Company’s servants at the
station held a council of war; some voted that Azimghur was untenable,
and that a retreat should be made to Ghazeepore; but bolder councils
prevailed with the majority. At last a regular battle with the enemy
took place; a battle which has been described in such a lively manner by
Mr Venables, deputy-magistrate of Azimghur, that we cannot do better
than quote a portion of a letter in which he narrated the events of the
day.[68] The action was really worthy of note even in a military sense;
for a small force, headed by a civilian, defeated an enemy ten times as
numerous. Mr Venables received the thanks of the government for his
skill and courage on this occasion. But afterwards came a time of
mortification. Of the native troops which formed his little army on the
18th, more than half belonged to the very regiment which mutinied a few
days afterwards at Segowlie, after murdering their commandant, Major
Holmes. Mr Venables pondered on the question: ‘Will the detachment of
the 12th irregulars remain faithful at Azimghur, when another portion of
the same regiment has mutinied at Segowlie?’ He thought such a proof of
fidelity improbable; and therefore, he and the other Europeans sought to
avert danger by removing from Azimghur to Ghazeepore, which they did on
the 30th of July. The district all around the station at Azimghur
remained at the mercy of lawless marauders until the arrival of the
Goorkhas from Goruckpore, mentioned in the last paragraph. Then began a
struggle, which should act with the most effective energy—Oudian
insurgents from the west, openly hostile to the British; or Nepaul
Goorkhas from the north, serving in alliance with the British—a struggle
in which, it hardly need be said, many villages were reduced to ashes,
and much disturbance of peaceful industry produced.
The Jounpoor district was even more completely disorganised than those
of Goruckpore and Azimghur; it had been almost entirely abandoned since
the first mutiny of the troops at that station in June. Not until after
a Goorkha force had marched into Jounpoor in August, could the civil
officers feel any safety in returning to their duties at that station.
Benares, the most important place hereabouts, became a temporary home
for many officers who, by the revolt of their several native regiments,
had been suddenly and unwillingly deprived of active duties; there were
eight or ten of them, mostly belonging to Oude regiments which had
revolted. When Jung Bahadoor agreed to send a body of Goorkha troops
from Nepaul to the disturbed districts, the Calcutta government
transmitted orders for some of these unemployed officers to meet those
troops at Goruckpore, and act with them. Among those officers were
Captain Boileau and Lieutenants Miles, Hall, and Campbell. It was early
in July when this order was sent to Benares, but some weeks elapsed ere
the Goorkhas reached Goruckpore. Before this co-operation with the
Goorkhas took place, Benares was enabled to render a little good service
against the rebels by the aid of British troops, not stationed at that
place, but while on transit to the upper provinces. The gallant 78th
Highlanders, journeying from Calcutta to Allahabad, were divided into
portions according as the means of transport were presented, and
according to the necessities of the districts through which they passed.
On the 5th of July, Lieutenant-colonel Gordon, commanding the Benares
district, saw the necessity of checking some insurgents near that city;
and he intrusted that duty to Major Haliburton of the 78th. The major
started on the morning of the 6th, with a mixed detachment of Europeans
and natives, and marched eight miles on the Azimghur road. His advanced
cavalry reported a large body of the enemy half a mile ahead, with their
centre posted across the road, and their flanks resting on villages,
partially concealed behind trees and rising-ground. Their number was
about 500, aided by an equal number of villagers apparently eager for
mischief. The contest was soon over, and the enemy repelled. The chief
point that rendered the incident worthy of note was that a few of the
12th irregular cavalry, employed by Haliburton, shewed bad symptoms
during the day; they did not charge the enemy with alacrity; and they
appeared inclined to listen to the appeals made to their religious
feelings by the natives whom they were called upon to oppose. These
troopers belonged to the same regiment as those who afterwards mutinied
at Segowlie.
After the departure of the Highlanders, this great and important Hindoo
city was frequently thrown into excitement by mutinies or reports of
mutinies at other places. Rumours came in early in August, to the effect
that the irregular cavalry from Segowlie, after murdering their
officers, were on their way to Jounpoor, thirty-five miles from Benares,
with the intention of visiting Benares itself. The city contained at
that time only 300 English soldiers, none of whom could safely be spared
to go out and confront the rebels. The civil lines at Benares comprised
that portion of the British station which contained the jails, the
courts of justice, and the residences of the commissioner, judge,
surgeon, &c.; it lay on the north of the Burnah River, while the
military lines were on the south, the two being connected by a bridge.
The civil station was thus peculiarly open to attack; and all that the
authorities could do for it was to post a party of soldiers and two guns
on the bridge; the prisoners were removed to the other side of the
river, the courts were abandoned, and all valuable property was taken
from the civil station to that of the European military in the
cantonment. The Rev. James Kennedy, chaplain of the station, has in a
letter mentioned a fact which shews in how agitated a state the English
community at Benares were at that time;[69] illustrating in a striking
way—as was more than once shewn during those turmoils in India—that the
panic arising from an apprehended danger was often worse than the
reality, paralysing the exertions of those who would have rendered good
service had actual fighting with an open enemy commenced. No sooner had
the dread of the Segowlie mutineers passed away, than an approach of
those from Dinapoor was threatened. Colonel Gordon, seeing the mischief
that would accrue from such a step, resolved to prevent it: he sent out
his handful of English soldiers, not merely to check the approach of the
rebels, but to drive them from the district altogether. Koer Singh and
his rabble army did not wait for this conflict; they gave Benares a
‘wide offing,’ and bent their steps towards Mirzapore. While the few
English soldiers were engaged on this duty, the sentinels left behind
were aided by the residents, headed by the judge—all keeping watch and
ward in turn, for the common safety.
Mirzapore, from its large size and great importance as a commercial
city, and its position on the banks of the Ganges between Benares and
Allahabad, was often placed in considerable peril. No mutiny actually
occurred there, but the city was repeatedly threatened by mutineers from
other quarters, who, if successful, would certainly have been aided by
all the budmashes of the place, and by many Mussulmans higher in station
than mere rabble. The European residents were perpetually on the watch.
When a battery of artillery came up the Ganges _en route_ to Allahabad,
they earnestly entreated to be allowed to retain it for their own
protection; but Neill, the presiding genius at that time, would not
listen to this; Allahabad and Cawnpore must be thought of, and Mirzapore
must shift for itself. When the affairs at Segowlie and Dinapoor became
known, measures were taken for making some kind of stronghold at
Mirzapore. The Europeans intrenched the largest and strongest house
belonging to them, barricaded the streets, buried much property, placed
other property in guarded boats on the river, and prepared for service
four small guns and five hundred rounds of ammunition. On numbering
heads, they found 135 persons, all of whom had separate duties or posts
assigned to them in the hour of need; they also secured provision for a
month. This judicious line of policy answered the desired purpose: the
Dinapoor mutineers did not enter or molest Mirzapore. Those marauders
passed westward along a line of route further removed from the Ganges,
plundering as they went, and committing great devastation. On the 19th
of August, a small force set out from Mirzapore to check those acts of
violence; but the Dinapoor men generally managed to keep beyond the
reach of pursuers. A little later, when other regiments had mutinied in
the Saugor division, it was deemed prudent by the Calcutta authorities
to send a portion of a Madras regiment, with two guns, to aid in the
protection of Mirzapore.
It may here be remarked, that along the line of country immediately
adjacent to the eastern frontier of Oude, the influence of that
turbulent province was made abundantly manifest during the period now
under notice. There were many zemindars near the border who maintained
bodies of armed men on foot. A rebel chief of Sultanpore, one Mehudee
Hussein, appeared to direct the movements in that region; he was one
among many who received direct commissions from the rebel authorities at
Lucknow, as chieftains expected to bring all their forces to bear
against the British. This fact alone suffices to shew how completely
Oude was at that time in the hands of the enemy.
Mr Grant, as lieutenant-governor of the Central Provinces, was called
upon to exercise authority in the districts of Allahabad, Futtehpoor,
Cawnpore, Banda, and Humeerpoor, as well as in those of Goruckpore,
Ghazeepore, Jounpoor, Benares, and Mirzapore. When he settled down at
Benares as his head-quarters, towards the close of August, he found that
no civil business of the Company was carried on throughout the Doab,
from Allahabad to Cawnpore, except at Allahabad itself. Neill and
Havelock, by the gallant operations already described, obtained military
control of the great line of road; but their troops being lamentably
small in number, they were nearly powerless beyond a few miles’ distance
on either side of that road; while the judges and magistrates, the
commissioners and collectors, had in only a few instances been able to
resume their duties as civil servants of the Company. A large portion of
the population, driven from their villages either by the rebel sepoys or
by the British, had not yet returned; and the fertile Doab had become,
for a time, almost a desert. Banda and Humeerpoor, British districts
immediately south of the Doab, were temporarily but completely given up;
scarcely an Englishman remained within them, unless at hide-and-seek.
Some of the petty chiefs, including the rajahs of Mundah and Churkarree,
remained faithful. For a time, police in the service of the Company were
able to retain command in that part of the Allahabad division which lay
north of the Ganges; but the Oudians, as August advanced, crossed the
frontier, and gradually drove them away, thus further narrowing the belt
of country within which the Company’s ‘raj’ was respected. Koer Singh,
whose name has so often been mentioned, was ruler for a time south of
the Jumna, with his Dinapoor mutineers; it was supposed that he had
offered his services to Nena Sahib and to the King of Delhi, in hopes of
some substantial authority or advantages as a reward for his
co-operation. This unsettled state of the region south of the Jumna
placed Lieutenant Osborne in an extraordinary position. He was, as we
have already seen (p. 180), British representative at the court of the
Rajah of Rewah, a place southwest of Allahabad—unimportant in itself,
but surrounded by districts every one of which was in a state of
anarchy. Although the young rajah was friendly to the English, and aided
the lieutenant in his military plans for checking the mutineers, it was
at all times uncertain how far the Rewah troops themselves could be
depended on. At a somewhat later date than that to which this chapter
relates, Osborne was living in a tent at Rewah, with no Englishman of
any grade near him, and uncertain whether he could rely for an hour on
the fidelity of the native troops belonging to the rajah—defended by
little else than his own indomitable force of character. Koer Singh and
the Dinapoor mutineers had asked the rajah either to join them, or to
allow them to pass through his territory; he opposed it; his troops
wished it; and thus the rajah and the lieutenant were thrown into
antagonism with the Rewah troops.
Another region or division placed under Mr Grant’s
lieutenant-governorship, Saugor, had witnessed very great disturbance
during the month of June, as has already been shewn;[70] and he found
the effects of that disturbance manifested in various ways throughout
July and August. Rewah, Nowgong, Jhansi, Saugor, Jubbulpoor,
Hosungabad—all had suffered, either from the mutiny of troops at those
towns, or by the arrival of mutineers from other stations. Nagpoor was
under a different government or control; but it would not on that
account have escaped the perils of those evil days, had it not been that
the troops distributed over that province belonged to the Madras rather
than to the Bengal army—a most important difference, as we have had many
opportunities of seeing. Mr Plowden, commissioner of Nagpoor, found it
comparatively easy to maintain his own territory in peace, for the
reason just stated; and he used all possible exertion to bring up troops
from Madras, and send them on to the Saugor province. His advice to
Major Erskine was, to disarm his Bengal troops at all the stations as
soon as he could obtain Madras troops; but the numbers of these latter
were not sufficient to permit the carrying out of such a plan. The
Saugor territory, in having the peaceful part of Bengal on the east, and
Nagpoor territory on the south, was pretty safe from disturbance on
those frontiers; but having the Jumna region on the north, and the
Mahratta dominions on the west, it had many sources of disturbance in
those directions.
In the town and military station of Saugor, the state of affairs was
very remarkable. Brigadier Sage, in the month of June (p. 178), had
converted a large fort into a place of refuge for the ladies and
families of the officers, provisioned it for six months, placed the guns
in position, and guarded the whole by a body of European gunners. This
he did, not because the native regiments at the station (31st and 42d B.
N. I., and 3d irregular cavalry) had mutinied, but because they appeared
very unsettled, and received tempting offers from scheming chieftains in
the vicinity. The Calcutta authorities called upon the brigadier for an
explanation of the grounds on which he had shut up all the Europeans at
Saugor, three hundred in number, in the fort, without any actual mutiny
at that place; but on account of interrupted dâks and telegraphs, many
weeks elapsed before the various official communications could take
place, and during those weeks the brigadier was responsible for the
safety of the residents. The remarkable feature in all this was, not
that the native troops should mutiny, or that the Europeans should live
in a fortified residence, but that one regiment should remain faithful
when others at the same spot repudiated allegiance. Early in July the
42d and the cavalry endeavoured to incite the 31st to mutiny; but not
only did the latter remain true to their salt—they attacked and beat off
the rebels. On the 7th of the month a regular battle ensued; the 31st
and some of the irregular cavalry attacking the 42d and the rest of the
irregulars, and expelling them altogether from the station. ‘Well done,
31st,’ said Major Erskine, when news of this event reached Jubbulpoor.
It was not merely that two infantry regiments were in antagonism; but
two wings of one cavalry regiment were also at open war with each other.
So delighted were the English officers of the 31st at the conduct of
their men, that they were eager to join in the fray; but the brigadier
would not allow this; he distrusted all these regiments alike, and would
not allow the officers to place themselves in peril. Many at Saugor
thought that an excess of caution was herein exhibited.
[Illustration:
Fort at Agra, from the river Jumna.
]
The other chief place in the province, Jubbulpoor, as shewn in a former
chapter (p. 178), had been thrown into much perplexity in the month of
June by the news of mutiny at Jhansi and Nuseerabad; and Major Erskine,
commissioner of the province, sought how he might best prevent the
pestilence from spreading southeastward. He was at Jubbulpoor with the
52d B. N. I. By a system of constant watchfulness he passed through that
month without an outbreak. It was, however, a month of anxiety; for such
of the ladies as did not retire to Kamptee for shelter, remained in
continual dread near their husbands at Jubbulpoor, seldom taking off
their clothes at night, and holding ready to flee at an hour’s warning—a
state of suspense entailing almost as much suffering as mutiny itself.
Early in July the Europeans fortified the Residency, and stored it with
half a year’s provisions for thirty officers, thirty ladies and
children, and several civilians; this was done on receipt of news that
the 42d native infantry and the 3d irregular cavalry had mutinied at
Saugor. The Residency was made very strong, being converted from a house
into a fort; three officers were made garrison engineers, two acted as
commissariat officers, and all the rest took specific duties. It became
not only the stronghold, but the home, night and day, for nearly seventy
persons. One of the officers who had the best means of knowing the
temper of the troops, while praising the 52d for still remaining
faithful under so many temptations from mutineers elsewhere, and while
promising them extra pay for their fidelity, nevertheless acknowledged
in a private letter that the regiment was a broken reed to rest upon.
‘To tell the truth, I doubt the regiment being much better than any
other. Circumstances alone keep the sepoys quiet. There is no treasure;
we merely collect enough to pay ourselves and them. If they plundered
the country, they could not take away the property; as the Bundelas
would loot and murder them.’ Speaking of the domestic economy of his
brother-officers and their families in the fortified Residency, he said:
‘The 52d mess manage everything in the _Khana peena_ line (eating and
drinking). Ladies and gentlemen all dine together—a strange scene, quite
a barrack-life. In the evening a few of us drive out; others ride and
walk. We cannot afford above six or eight to leave the garrison
together.’ July passed over in safety in Jubbulpoor. Early in August a
relieving force arrived from the Nagpoor territory, which, nearly
tranquil itself, was able to forward trusty Madras troops to regions
troubled by the faithless sepoys of the Bengal army. This force
consisted of the 33d Madras native infantry, a squadron of the 4th
Madras cavalry, 75 European artillerymen, and six guns. Major Erskine,
thus reinforced, set forth to restore order at Dumoh, and to proceed
thence to Saugor; to which place a Bombay column was expected to come,
viâ Indore and Bhopal. This was a part of the policy determined on by
the government at that time. Calcutta could supply no troops except for
the Cawnpore and Lucknow region; the Punjaub could furnish
reinforcements only for the siege of Delhi; and therefore it was
determined that columns should start from the Madras and Bombay
presidencies, comprising _no_ Bengal native troops, and should work
their way inwards and upwards to the disturbed provinces, sweeping away
mutineers wherever they encountered them. It was not until the latter
part of August that the Madras movable column could safely leave the
vicinity of Jubbulpoor for Dumoh and other disturbed stations, and even
then Major Erskine found it necessary to retain a portion of the troops.
How long the 52d remained faithful at Jubbulpoor we shall see in a
future page; but it may here be remarked that the English officers of
the native regiments were at that time placed in a position of
difficulty hardly to be comprehended by others. They either trusted
their sepoys, or felt a kind of shame in expressing distrust: if not in
actual peril, they were at least mortified and vexed; for they felt
their own honour touched when their regiments proved faithless.
The Bengal troops at Nagode appear to have remained untouched by mutiny
until the 25th of August. On that day the 50th native infantry shewed
symptoms which caused some anxiety to the officers; two days afterwards
disturbances took place, and at a period somewhat beyond the limit to
which this chapter is confined the bulk of the regiment mutinied, and
marched off to join mutineers elsewhere. About 250 of the sepoys
remained true to their colours; they escorted their officers, and all
the ladies and children, safely from Nagode to Mirzapore. These
divergences among the men of the same regiment greatly complicate any
attempts to elucidate the causes of the Indian mutiny generally. That
the sepoys were often excited by temporary and exceptional impulses, is
quite certain; and such impulses were wholly beyond the power of the
Europeans correctly to estimate. There was one station at which a
portion of a native regiment mutinied and shot an officer; the sepoys of
his company threw themselves upon his body and wept, and then—joined the
mutineers!
We pass from the Saugor province to those which were nominally under the
control of Mr Colvin as lieutenant-governor of the Northwest
Provinces—nominally, for, being himself shut up in Agra, he exercised
scarcely any control beyond the walls of the fort. Of the Doab,
sufficient has already been narrated to shew in what condition that
fertile region was placed during the months of July and August. Where
Havelock and Neill pitched their tents, there was British supremacy
maintained; but beyond the three cities of Allahabad, Futtehpoor, and
Cawnpore, and the high road connecting them, British power was little
more than a name. Higher up the Doab, at Etawah, Minpooree, Furruckabad,
Futteghur, Allygurh, Bolundshuhur, &c., anarchy was paramount. Crossing
the Ganges into Oude, the cessation of British rule was still more
complete. Scarcely an Englishman remained alive throughout the whole of
Oude, except in Lucknow; all who had not been killed had precipitately
escaped. Almost every landowner had become a petty chieftain, with his
fort, his guns, and his band of retainers. In no part of India, at no
time during the mutiny, was the hostility of the villagers more
strikingly shewn than in Oude: in other provinces the inhabitants of the
villages often aided the British troops on the march; but when Havelock,
Neill, and Outram were in Oude, every village on the road had to be
conquered, as if held by an avowed enemy. It has been often said that
the Indian outbreak was a revolt of soldiery, not a rebellion of a
people; but in Oude the contest was unquestionably with something more
than the military only. Whether their love for their deposed king was
sincere or only professed, the Oudians exhibited much animosity against
the British. What the beleaguered garrison of Lucknow were doing, we
shall see in the proper place.
Of Agra city, and the fort or residency in which the Europeans were for
safety assembled, it will be remembered (p. 173) that after peaceably
but anxiously passing through the month of May, Mr Colvin, on the 1st of
June, found it necessary or expedient to disarm the 44th and 67th Bengal
native infantry—because two companies of those regiments had just
mutinied near Muttra, and because the bulk of the regiments exhibited
unmistakable signs of disaffection. This great and important city was
then left under the charge of the 3d European Fusiliers, a corps of
volunteer European cavalry under Lieutenant Greathed, and Captain
D’Oyley’s field-battery of six guns. Most of the disarmed native troops
deserted, to swell the insurgent ranks elsewhere; and in the course of
the month the jail-guard deserted also. Thus June came to its end—the
European residents still remaining at large, but making certain
precautions for their common safety at night.
When July arrived, however, the state of affairs became much more
serious. The Europeans were forced into a battle, which ended in a
necessity for their shutting themselves up in the fort. The force was
very weak. The 3d Europeans only numbered about 600 men, the militia and
volunteers 200, and a few artillerymen belonging to the guns. Among the
officers present were several who had belonged to the Gwalior
Contingent, the various regiments and detachments of which had mutinied
at Hattrass, Neemuch, Augur, Lullutpore, and Gwalior, on various days
between the 28th of May and the 3d of July; these officers, having now
no commands, were glad to render aid in any available way towards the
defence of Agra. Just at this critical time, when the approach of a
hostile force was imminent, the Europeans were further troubled by the
sudden mutiny of the Kotah Contingent. This force—consisting of
infantry, cavalry, and artillery, about 700 men in all—having been
deemed loyal and trustworthy, had been brought about a month previously
to Agra from the southwest, and had during that time remained
true—collecting revenue, burning disaffected villages, capturing and
hanging rebels and mutineers. They were brought in from the vicinity
towards the close of June, to aid if necessary against the Neemuch
mutineers, and were encamped half-way between the barracks and
government-house. Suddenly and unexpectedly, on the evening of the 4th,
the cavalry portion of the Contingent rose in revolt, fired at their
officers, killed their sergeant-major, and then marched off, followed by
the infantry and the artillery—all but a few gunners, who enabled the
British to retain the two guns belonging to the Contingent. This revolt
startled the authorities, and necessitated a change of plan, for it had
been intended to attack the Neemuch force that very evening; nay,
matters were even still worse, for the Kotah villains at once joined
those from Neemuch.
On the morning of Sunday the 5th of July (again Sunday!), an army of
mutineers being known to be near at hand, a reconnoitring party was sent
out to examine their position. The enemy were found to consist of about
4000 infantry and 1000 cavalry, with ten or twelve guns; they comprised
the 72d B. N. I., the 7th Gwalior Contingent infantry, the 1st Bengal
native cavalry, the Malwah Contingent cavalry—which had joined the
Neemuch men at Mehidpore—and fragments of other mutinied regiments,
together with a very efficient artillery corps. The arrival of the
Neemuch mutineers had for some time been expected; and as soon as it was
known, on the 3d, that the enemy had reached Futtehpore Sikri, about
twenty miles from Agra, the ladies and children, as well as many of the
civilians and traders, had as a measure of precaution abandoned their
houses in the city, and gone into the fort, which had been cleaned out,
made as habitable as possible, and largely supplied with provisions. The
reconnoitring party returned to announce that the enemy were at
Shahgunje, a village close to the lieutenant-governor’s house, three
miles from the cantonment and four from the fort. The authorities at
Agra resolved at once to go out and fight the enemy in open field;
seeing that the native citizens had begun to think slightingly of their
British masters, and that it was necessary to remove any suspicion of
fear or timidity. The brigadier made up a force equal to about
one-eighth of the enemy’s numbers; it consisted of seven very weak
companies of the 3d European Fusiliers, the militia and volunteers, and
a battery of artillery. The infantry were placed under Colonel Riddell,
and the artillery under Captain D’Oyley. As to the volunteer cavalry, it
was made up of a curious medley of unemployed military officers,
civilians, merchants, and writers—all willing to share the common danger
for the common good; but with untrained horses, and without regular
cavalry drill, they laboured under many disadvantages. About 200 men of
the 3d Europeans remained behind to guard the fort.
At noon, the opposing forces met. The enemy occupied a strong position
behind Shahgunje, with their guns flanking the village, and the cavalry
flanking the guns. The British advanced in line, with their guns on each
flank, the infantry in the middle, and the mounted militia and
volunteers in the rear. When about six hundred yards from the enemy, the
infantry were ordered to lie down, to allow the guns to do their work
against the village, from behind the houses and walls of which the
enemy’s riflemen opened a very destructive fire. It was a bad omen that
women were seen in the village loading the rifles and muskets and
handing them to the mutineers to fire. For two hours an exchange of
artillery-fire was kept up—extremely fierce; shrapnel shells,
round-shot, and grape-shot, filling the air. A tumbril belonging to
D’Oyley’s battery now blew up, disabling one of the guns; the enemy’s
cavalry took advantage of this to gallop forward and charge; but the 3d
Europeans, jumping up, let fly a volley which effectually deterred them.
Most of the officers and soldiers had wished during these two hours for
a bolder course of action—a capture of the enemy’s guns by a direct
charge of infantry. Then followed a rapid musketry-fire, and a chasing
of the enemy out of the village by most of the infantry—the rest
guarding the guns. Unfortunately another tumbril blew up, disabling
another gun; and, moreover, D’Oyley had used up all the ammunition which
had been supplied to him. Upon this the order was given for retreat to
the city; and the retreat was made—much to the mortification of the
troops, for they had really won a victory. The rebels, it was afterwards
known, were themselves out of ammunition, and were just about to retreat
when they saw the retreat of the British; their infantry marched off
towards Muttra, but their cavalry and one gun harassed the British
during their return to the city. The artillery-fire of the mutineers
during the battle was spoken of with admiration even by those who were
every minute suffering from it; the native artillerymen had learned to
use effectively against us those guns which they had been paid and fed
to use in our defence. If the cavalry had been equally effective, the
British would probably have been cut off to a man. This battle of Agra
was a severe one to the British, for one-fourth of the small force were
killed or wounded. The officers suffered much: Majors Prendergast and
Thomas, Captains D’Oyley, Lamb, and Alexander, Lieutenants Pond,
Fellowes, Cockburn, Williams, and Bramley, were wounded, as well as many
gentlemen belonging to the volunteer horse. The loss of Captain D’Oyley
was very much deplored, for he was a great favourite. While managing his
guns, a shot struck him; he sat on the carriage, giving orders, in spite
of his wound; but at last he fell, saying: ‘Ah, they have done for me
now! Put a stone over my grave, and say I died at my guns.’ He sank the
next day.
The British returned to Agra—not to the city, but to the fort; for three
or four thousand prisoners had got loose during the day, and had begun
to fire all the European buildings in the city. Officers and privates,
civilians and ladies, all who wrote of the events at Agra at that time,
told of the wild licence of that day and night. One eye-witness said:
‘Hardly a house has escaped destruction; and such houses and their
contents as were not consumed by fire have been completely gutted and
destroyed by other means. In fact, even if we were to leave the fort
to-morrow, there are not four houses in the place with roofs remaining
under which we could obtain shelter; and as for household property and
other things left outside, there is not a single article in existence in
serviceable order. The very doors and windows are removed, and every bit
of wood torn out, so that nothing remains but the bare brick walls.
Things are strewed about the roads and streets in every direction; and
wherever you move you see broken chairs and tables, carriages in
fragments, crockery, books, and every kind of property wantonly
destroyed.’ An officer of the 3d Europeans, after describing the battle,
and the return of the little force to the fort, said: ‘Immediately
afterwards the work of destruction commenced, the budmashes began to
plunder, bungalows on every side were set on fire—one continued blaze
the whole night. I went out the next morning. ‘Twas a dreadful sight
indeed; Agra was destroyed; churches, colleges, dwelling-houses,
barracks, everything burned.’
But they had something more to think of than the devastation in Agra
city; they had to contemplate their own situation in Agra Fort. Among
the number of Europeans, some had already borne strange adversities. One
officer had escaped, with his wife, in extraordinary guise, from Gwalior
at the time of the mutiny of the Contingent at that place. He had been
obliged to quit his wife at their bungalow in the midst of great danger,
to hasten down to his regiment in the lines; and when he found his
influence with his men had come to naught, and that shots were aimed at
him, three sepoys resolved to save him. They took off his hat, boots,
and trousers, wrapped him in a horse-cloth, huddled him between them,
and passed him off as a woman. They left him on the bank of a stream,
and went to fetch his wife from a position of great peril. She being too
weak to walk, they made up a horse-cloth into a sort of bag, tied it to
a musket, put her into it, shouldered the musket horizontally, and
carried her seven miles—her husband walking by her side, barefoot over
sharp stones. After meeting with further assistance, they reached Agra
somewhat more in comfort. Another officer, who had likewise served in
the Gwalior Contingent, and who had seen much hard service before the
mutiny of his corps compelled him to flee to Agra, counted up the wreck
of his property after the battle of the 5th of July, and found it to
consist of ‘a coat, a shirt, the greater portion of a pair of breeches,
a pair of jack-boots, one sock, a right good sword’—and a cannon-ball
through his leg; yet, recognising the useful truth that grumbling and
complaining are but poor medicines in a time of trouble, he bore up
cheerfully, and even cheered up Mr Colvin, who was at that time nearly
worn to the grave by sickness and anxiety. An officer of the 3d
Europeans said in a letter: ‘I lost everything in the world.... The
enemy went quietly off; but here we are; we can’t get out—no place to go
to—nothing to do but to wait for assistance.’ And a few days afterwards
he added: ‘Here we are like rats in a trap; there are from four to five
thousand people in this fort, military and civil, Eurasians,
half-castes, &c.; and when we shall get out, is a thing to be guessed
at.’ A surgeon of the recently mutinied Gwalior Contingent thus spoke of
what he saw around him: ‘The scene in the fort for the first few days
was a trying one. All the native servants ran off. I had eleven in the
morning, and at night not one. Ladies were seen cooking their own food,
officers drawing and carrying water from the wells, &c. Many people were
ruined, having escaped with only their clothes on their backs. We are
now shut up here, five hundred fighting-men with ammunition, and about
four or five thousand altogether, eagerly awaiting the arrival of
European troops.’ A commissariat officer said: ‘Here we are all living
in gun-sheds and casemates. The appearance of the interior is amusing,
and the streets (of the fort) are named; we have Regent and Oxford
Streets, the Quadrant, Burlington and Lowther Arcades, and Trafalgar
Square.’ The wife of one of the officers described her strange home: ‘We
are leading a very unsettled ship-like life. No one is allowed to leave
the fort, except bodies of armed men. We are living in a place they call
Palace Yard; it is a square, with a gallery round it, having open
arches; every married couple are allowed two arches.... It is no easy
matter to keep our arches clean and tidy.’ As all the Europeans in Agra
went to live in the fort, the number included the staff of the
_Mofussilite_ (’Provincial European’) newspaper, one of the journals
which had for some time been published in that city; the issue for the
3d of July had been printed at the usual office of the paper; but none
other appeared for twelve days, when a _Mofussilite_ was printed within
the fort itself.
There was no exaggeration in the accounts of the number of persons thus
strangely incarcerated. So completely were the Europeans and their
native servants at Agra shut up within the fort, and so much was that
place regarded as a refuge for those who had been forced to flee from
other stations, that it gradually became crowded to an extraordinary
degree. On the 26th of July Mr Colvin determined to take a census of all
the persons who slept within the fort on that night; he did so, and
found them to amount to no less a number than 5845[71]—all of whom had
to be supplied with their daily food under military or garrison
arrangements. More than 2000 of the number were children, who could
render little or no return for the services so anxiously demanded by and
for them. Provided, however, the supply of food and other necessaries
were sufficient, the danger of the position was not at all comparable to
that of Sir Hugh Wheeler at Cawnpore or of Brigadier Inglis at Lucknow.
The fort at Agra (see wood-cut, p. 109) was a very large structure, a
sort of triangle whose sides extended from three to five eighths of a
mile each; it contained numerous large buildings within the walls, of
which the chief were the palace of Shahjehan, the Hall of Audience built
by the same emperor, and the Moti Musjid or Pearl Mosque. All the
buildings were at once appropriated, in various ways, to the wants of
the enormous number of persons who sought shelter therein. The defences
of the place, too, were greatly strengthened; sixty guns of heavy
calibre were mounted on the bastions; thirteen large mortars were placed
in position; the powder-magazines were secured from accidental
explosion; the external defences were improved by the levelling of many
houses in the city which approached too near the fort; and preparations
were completed for blowing up the superb Jumma Musjid (p. 229) if any
attempt were made by a hostile force to occupy it, seeing that its upper
ranges commanded the interior of the fort. The only insurgent force at
that time in possession of guns and mortars powerful enough to breach
strong walls was the Gwalior Contingent; and even if Scindia lost all
hold over that force, Agra was provisioned for ten months, and had
ammunition enough to stand a whole year’s siege. An officer of a
mutinied Gwalior regiment, writing from Agra after some weeks’
confinement, said: ‘Almost all the roads are closed, and it is only by
secret messengers and spies that we can get any intelligence of what is
going on in the convulsed world around us. My letters from Scotland used
to reach me in thirty days; now if I get one in eighty days I
congratulate myself on my good-luck.... As for this fort, we can hold it
against any number for months; our only fear being for the women and
children, who would suffer much, and of whom we have some three
thousand. The health of the troops, &c., is, thank God, excellent, and
the wounded are doing well.’ Nevertheless, with all their sense of
security, the Europeans within the fort had enough to do to maintain
their cheerfulness. On the day and night of the 5th of July, property
had been burned and despoiled in the city to an enormous amount; and
most of this had belonged to the present inmates of the fort. The
merchants had been prosperous, their large shops had abounded with the
most costly articles of necessity and luxury—and now nearly all was
gone. The military officers had of course less to lose, but their
deprivation was perhaps still more complete.
Throughout July and August the state of affairs thus continued at Agra.
The danger was small, but the discomforts of course numerous. Mr Colvin
sent repeated applications for a relieving force. There was, however,
none to aid him. His health failed greatly, and he did not bear up
against the anxieties of his position with the cheerful firmness
exhibited by many other of the officials at that trying time. Brigadier
Polwhele, former military commandant, was superseded by Colonel Cotton
when the account of the battle of the 5th of July became known at
Calcutta. Occasional sallies were made from the fort, to punish isolated
bodies of rebels at Futtehpore Sikri, Hattrass, and Allygurh; but the
European troops were too few to be very effective in this way. The most
note-worthy exploit took place during the latter half of August, when Mr
Colvin requested Colonel Cotton to organise a small force for driving
some mutineers from Allygurh. Major Montgomery set forth with this
miniature army,[72] reached Hattrass on the 21st, and there learned that
6000 mutineers, under Ghose Mahomed Khan, náib or lieutenant of the King
of Delhi, were prepared to resist him at Allygurh. Montgomery marched
from Allygurh to Sarsnee on the 23d, rested for the night in an indigo
factory and other buildings, and advanced on the following day to
Allygurh. There ensued a sharp conflict of two hours’ duration, in
gardens and enclosures outside the town; it ended in the defeat and
dispersion of the enemy, who left 300 dead on the field. The battle was
a gallant affair, worthy of ranking with those of Havelock; for
Montgomery contended against twenty times his own number; and, moreover,
many of the troops among the enemy were Ghazees or fanatic Mussulmans
who engaged fiercely in hand-to-hand contests with some of his troops.
His detachment of men was too small to enable him to enter and reoccupy
Allygurh: he was obliged to leave that place in the hands of the rebels,
and to return to Hattrass; but having replenished his stock of
ammunition and supplies, he advanced again to Allygurh, held it for
several days, and left a detachment there when he took his departure.
Taking leave for the present of Agra, we may briefly state that almost
every other city and station in that part of India was in the hands of
the enemy during the months of July and August. Delhi was still under
siege; but there was scarcely a British soldier in any part of the Delhi
division except in the siege-camp before Delhi itself. In the Agra
division, as we have just seen, British influence extended very little
further than the walls of Agra Fort. In the Meerut division, the station
at that town was still held; the military lines were strongly fortified,
and supplied with provisions to an extent sufficient to remove immediate
anxiety. The region between Delhi and the Sutlej, containing Hansi,
Hissar, Sirsa, and other towns, was fortunately kept in some order by a
column under General Van Cortlandt, which moved quickly from place to
place, and put down a swarm of petty chieftains who were only too ready
to take advantage of the mutinies of the native troops. In the Rohilcund
division scarcely a town, except up in the hills, remained under British
control.
Welcome as was the refuge which the wives and children of officers found
at the hill-stations in the Rohilcund and Cis-Sutlej provinces, their
tranquillity was frequently disturbed by the movements of rebels. Early
in August the civil commissioner of Kumaon received intelligence that an
attack was contemplated on Nynee Tal by Kalee Khan, one of the myrmidons
of Khan Bahadoor Khan of Bareilly, who had 3000 rabble with him; the
plunder and destruction of the station being the main objects in view.
Captain Ramsey, commandant at Nynee Tal, and Colonel M’Causland,
commanding the troops in the various stations of Kumaon, at once
determined to remove the ladies and children, two hundred in number,
from Nynee Tal to Almora, further away from Bareilly: this was done; and
then the colonel prepared to meet the mutineers, and confront them with
a detachment of the 66th Goorkhas. Kalee Khan set forth on his mission;
but when he heard that M’Causland was calmly waiting for him, he changed
his plan, returned to Bareilly, and avoided a conflict, the probable
result of which presented itself very clearly to his mind. At Nynee Tal,
at Almora, at Mussouree, at Simla, and at other places among the cool
hilly regions, ladies and children were assembled in large numbers, some
with their husbands and fathers, but many sent away from scenes of
strife in which those dear to them were compelled to engage. It was not
all idle hopelessness with them. Englishwomen can always find some
useful service to render, and are always ready to render it. A lady,
writing from Mussouree on the 9th of August, said: ‘We are very busy
working flannel clothes for our army before Delhi. They are very badly
off for these things; and being so much exposed at such a season of the
year, and in such a proverbially unhealthy locality, and fighting as
they have done so nobly, they really deserve to be provided for by us.’
After enumerating the sums subscribed towards this object from various
quarters, the writer went on to say: ‘Mrs —— and myself are constantly
at work; for, with the exception of our tailors, and one or two others
given up to us by ladies, we can get none.... Wonderful to say, though I
never did such a thing in my life before, I have the management of our
portion of the business, which keeps me employed from early morning till
late at night. We meet, with several other ladies, at ——‘s house every
day, with as many tailors as we can collect, and stitch away.’
The great and important country of the Punjaub, though not free from
disturbance, was kept pretty well under control during July and August,
by the energy of Sir John Lawrence and the other officers of the
Company. We have seen[73] that on the 13th of May the 16th, 26th, and
49th regiments of Bengal native infantry, and the 8th Bengal cavalry,
were disarmed at Meean Meer, a cantonment six miles from the city of
Lahore; that on the same day the 45th and 57th native infantry mutinied
at Ferozpore, while the 10th cavalry was disarmed; that during the same
week, Umritsir, Jullundur, and Phillour were only saved from mutiny by
the promptness and spirit of some of the officers; that on the 20th, the
55th native infantry mutinied at Murdan in the Peshawur Valley; that
consequent upon this, the 24th, 27th, and 51st native infantry, and the
5th native cavalry, were on the 22d of the month disarmed in the station
of Peshawur itself; that early in June, the 4th native regiment was
disarmed at Noorpore; that on the 6th, the 36th and 61st native
infantry, and the 6th native cavalry, mutinied at Jullundur, and marched
off towards Phillour; that the 3d native cavalry, at the last-named
station, mutinied on the following day, unable to resist the temptation
thrown out to them by those from Jullundur; that the 14th native
infantry mutinied at Jelum on the 7th of July, maintaining a fierce
fight with a British detachment before their departure; that on the same
day the 58th native infantry, and two companies of the 14th, were
disarmed at Rawul Pindee; that on the 9th, the 46th native infantry, and
a wing of the 9th native cavalry, mutinied at Sealkote, and decamped
towards Delhi; that towards the close of July, the disarmed 26th
mutinied at Meean Meer, murdered Major Spencer, and marched off with the
intention of strengthening the insurgents at Delhi; that on the 19th of
August, a portion of the disarmed 10th cavalry mutinied at Ferozpore;
and that on the 28th of the same month, the disarmed 51st mutinied at
Peshawur, fled to the hills, and were almost annihilated. It thus
appears that about a dozen regiments mutinied in the Punjaub between the
middle of May and the end of August; that some of these had been
previously disarmed; and that others had been disarmed without having
mutinied.
A few additional words may be given here relating to the partial mutiny
at Meean Meer. The four native regiments at that station, disarmed on
the 13th of May, remained in their lines until the 30th of July,
peaceful and without arms. On the last-named day, however, it became
known to the authorities that the men meditated flight. Major Spencer of
the 26th, and two native officers, were killed by the sepoys of that
regiment on that day—with what weapons does not clearly appear. The
murder of the unfortunate English officer deranged the plans of the
troops; all were to have decamped at a given signal; but now only the
26th made off, leaving the other three regiments in their lines. The
authorities, not well knowing whither the fugitives had gone, sent off
three strong parties of mounted police, to Umritsir, Hurrekee, and
Kussoor, the three routes towards the Sutlej. The men, however, had gone
northward; but within a few days they were almost entirely destroyed,
for the villagers aided the police in capturing or shooting the
miserable fugitives as they marched or ran in field and jungle.
Without going over in detail any proceedings already recorded, it may be
convenient to condense in a small space a narrative of Brigadier-general
Nicholson’s operations in the later days of June and the first half of
July with a movable column placed under his command by Sir John
Lawrence. Having disarmed the 33d and 35th B. N. I., for reasons which
appeared to him amply sufficient, he began on the 27th of June to
retrace his steps from Phillour, and on the 5th of July he encamped at
Umritsir, to overawe the 59th B. N. I., and to hold a central position
whence he might march to any threatened point east or west. On the 7th,
hearing of the mutiny of the 14th native infantry at Jelum, and
receiving no satisfactory evidence that Colonel Ellice had been able to
frustrate or defeat the mutineers, he at once resolved on a measure of
precaution. He disarmed the 59th on the following morning—with very
great regret; for he had nothing to censure in the conduct of the men;
he took that step solely on account of the peril which, at such a time,
threatened any station containing Bengal troops without British; and he
added in his dispatch: ‘I beg very strongly to recommend this corps,
both as regards officers and men, to the favourable consideration of
government.’ On the 10th, receiving intelligence that the 46th native
infantry, and a wing of the 9th native cavalry, had mutinied at
Sealkote, Nicholson at once disarmed the other wing of the same cavalry
regiment, which formed part of his column. In the course of the same day
he learned that the Sealkote mutineers intended to march eastward,
through Goordaspore, Noorpore, Hoshyapoor, and Jullundur, to
Delhi—endeavouring to tempt to mutiny, on their way, the 2d irregular
cavalry at Goordaspore, the 4th native infantry at Noorpore, and the
16th irregular cavalry at Hoshyapoor. The problem thence arose—could
Nicholson intercept these mutineers before they reached Goordaspore? He
found he would have to make a forced march of forty miles in a northeast
direction to effect this. He did so, by energetic exertions, in twenty
hours. He came up with them at the Trimmoo ford over the Ravee, nine
miles from Goordaspore, on the 12th of July—his force now consisting of
H.M. 52d foot, 184 men of the Punjaub infantry, a company of the police
battalion, a few irregular horse, a troop of artillery, and three guns.
Nicholson defeated them after a short but sharp conflict on the river’s
bank; but his horsemen were not trustworthy, and he could not pursue the
enemy. About 300 mutineers, with one gun, took post on an island in the
river; these, by a well-planned movement, were almost entirely
annihilated on the 16th—and the ‘Sealkote mutineers’ disappeared from
the scene. It was with justice that the active leader thanked his troops
on the following day: ‘By a forced march of unusual length, performed at
a very trying season of the year, the column has been able to preserve
many stations and districts from pillage and plunder, to save more than
one regiment from the danger of too close a contact with the mutineers;
while the mutineer force itself, 1100 strong, notwithstanding the very
desperate character of the resistance offered by it, has been utterly
destroyed or dispersed.’
Let us now, as in a former chapter, glance at the state of affairs in
the vast region of India southward of the Ganges, the Jumna, and the
Sutlej—passing over Sinde without special mention, as being nearly free
from disturbing agencies. The reader will remember[74] that among the
various states, provinces, and districts of Nagpoor, Hyderabad,
Carnatic, Madras, Bombay, Holkar, Scindia, Rajpootana, &c., some became
subject to anarchy in certain instances during the month of
June—especially the three last-named states; and we have now to shew
that this anarchy continued, and in some cases extended, during July and
August; but it will also be made manifest that the amount of insurgency
bore a very small ratio to that in the stormy districts further north.
Of Southwestern Bengal, Orissa, and Nagpoor, it is scarcely necessary
here to speak. The native troops were not influenced by a hostility so
fierce, a treachery so villainous, as those in Hindostan proper; there
were not so many zemindars and petty chieftains who had been wrought up
to irritation by the often questionable appropriations and annexations
of the Company; and there was easier access for the troops of the Madras
presidency, who, as has already been more than once observed, had small
sympathy with the petted sepoys and sowars of the larger presidency. The
mutinies or attempts at mutiny, in these provinces, were of slight
character during July and August. Mr Plowden, commissioner of Nagpoor,
was enabled, with troops sent by Lord Harris from Madras, not only to
maintain British supremacy throughout that large country (nearly equal
in size to England and Scotland combined), but also to assist Major
Erskine in the much more severely threatened territory of Saugor and
Nerbudda, lying between Nagpoor and the Jumna.
The Madras presidency remained almost entirely at peace. Not only did
the native troops hold their faith with the government that fed and paid
them, but they cheerfully volunteered to serve against the mutinous
Bengal sepoys in the north. On the 3d of July the governor in council
issued a proclamation, announcing that several regiments had expressed
their desire to be employed in the Northwest Provinces or wherever else
their services might be required; that thanks would be publicly awarded
to the native officers and men of all the regiments who had thus come
forward; and that the favourable attention of the supreme government
towards them would be solicited. The corps that thus proffered their
services were the 3d, 11th, 16th, and 27th Madras native infantry, the
3d and 8th Madras native cavalry, a company of native foot-artillery, a
troop of native horse-artillery, and a detachment of native sappers and
miners. Many of these afterwards rendered good service in the battles
which distinguished—and we may at the same time add devastated—Northern
and Central India. Four days afterwards, Lord Harris was able to
announce that other regiments—the 17th, 30th, 36th, and 47th native
infantry, and the 5th native cavalry—had in a similar way come forward
‘to express their abhorrence of the traitorous conduct of the mutineers
of the Bengal army, and their desire to be employed wherever their
services may be required.’ Besides thus providing faithful soldiers, the
governor of Madras was in a position, at various times during July and
August, to send large supplies of arms, ammunition, and camp-equipage,
from Madras to Calcutta. In the city of Madras itself, and in the
various southern provinces and countries of Carnatic, Tanjore,
Travancore, Canara, Malabar, and Mysore, the same exemption from mutiny
was experienced. There were, it is true, discontents and occasional
plottings, but no formidable resistance to the British power. Many
persons there were who, without being rebels or open malcontents,
thought that the Company had dealt harshly with the native princes, and
were on that account deterred from such hearty sympathy with the British
as they might otherwise possibly have manifested. An officer in the
Madras army, writing when the mutiny was four months old, stated that in
the previous February, when that terrible movement had not yet
commenced, he went one day to take a sketch of a mosque, or rather a
collection of mosques, in the suburbs of Madras—tombs that were the
memorials of past Mussulman greatness. His conversation with an old man
of that faith[75] left upon his mind the impression that there was a
sentiment of injury borne, rights violated, nationality disregarded,
conveyed in the words of his temporary companion.
There was, however, one occurrence in the Madras presidency which gave
rise to much uneasiness. The 8th Madras native cavalry was ordered to
march from Bangalore to Madras, and there embark for Calcutta. On
arriving at a place about twenty-five miles from Madras, on the 17th of
August, the men put forward a claim for the rates of pay, batta, and
pension which existed before the year 1837, and which were more
favourable than those of subsequent introduction. Such a claim, put
forward at such a moment, was very perplexing to the officers; they
hastened to Madras, and obtained the consent of the government to make
conciliatory offers to the men. After a further march of thirteen miles
to Poonamallee, the troopers again stopped, and declared they would not
go forth ‘to war against their countrymen.’ This being an act of
insubordination which of course could not be overlooked, two guns and
some artillerymen were promptly brought forward; the 8th cavalry were
unhorsed and disarmed, and sent to do dismounted duty at Arcot; while
their horses were forthwith shipped to Calcutta, where such accessions
were specially valuable. The affair caused great excitement at Madras;
the volunteers were warned that their services were to be available at a
moment’s notice; patrols were placed in the streets by day and night;
and guns were planted in certain directions. Happily, the prompt
disarming of this turbulent regiment prevented the poison from spreading
further.
[Illustration:
SKETCH MAP
_TO ILLUSTRATE_
HAVELOCK’S OPERATIONS
_DURING JULY & AUGUST_.
1857
_From a Government Survey._
]
Bombay, like its sister presidency Madras, was affected only in a slight
degree by the storms that troubled Bengal and the northwest. The Bombay
troops, though, as the sequel shewed, not altogether equal in fidelity
to those of Madras, did nevertheless pass through the perilous ordeal
very creditably—rendering most valuable service in Rajpootana and other
regions of the north. There was a wealthy and powerful native community
at Bombay—that of the Parsees—which was nearly at all times ready to
support the government, and which greatly strengthened the hands of Lord
Elphinstone by so doing. It consisted of merchants, shipowners, and
bankers, many of whom had made large fortunes in the ordinary way of
trade. Those Parsees may always be distinguished from the other natives
of India by something peculiar in their names—Jamsetjee, Nowrojee,
Cursetjee, Bomanjee, Rustomjee, Hormuzjee, Luxmonjee, Maneekjee,
Sorabjee, Furdoonjee, Soonderjee, Ruttonjee, Wassewdewjee, Dhakjee, &c.
The Parsees are the descendants of those Persians who, refusing to
exchange the religion of Zoroaster for that of Mohammed, migrated to
India more than a thousand years ago; those still remaining in Persia
are few in number and degraded in position; but those at Bombay are
wealthy and active, and bear a high character both morally and
intellectually. The property in the island on which the city of Bombay
stands is chiefly in the hands of the Parsees; and it is usual for the
European commercial firms of Bombay to have a Parsee capitalist as one
of the partners. Although wearing the Asiatic costume, and adhering very
rigidly to their religious customs and observances, the Parsees
assimilate more than other eastern people to the social customs of
Europeans: they nearly all speak English, and have it carefully taught
to their children. There is something remarkable in a Parsee holding the
dignity of a baronet, in English fashion; such was the case a few years
ago, when a Parsee of enormous wealth, and of liberality as great as his
wealth, was made by Queen Victoria a baronet under the title of Sir
Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy. It will at once be seen that such a body as the
Parsees, having little or no sympathy with Hindustani sepoys, and having
their worldly interests much bound up with the English, were likely to
be sources of strength instead of weakness in troubled times. They
headed an address to Lord Elphinstone, signed by about four hundred
natives of various castes and creeds.[76] It was not more adulatory, not
more filled with enthusiastic professions of loyalty, than many
addresses presented to Viscount Canning in Bengal; but it more nearly
corresponded with the conduct of those who signed it.
If Bombay city, however, remained nearly undisturbed during July and
August, there were symptoms that required close watching in various
districts to the north, south, and east. Kolapore, one of the places
here adverted to, is distant about a hundred and eighty miles south from
Bombay. It is the chief place of a raj or state of the same name, and
was in the last century a scene of frequent contest between two Mahratta
princes, the Peishwa of Satara and the Rajah of Kolapore, each of whom
struggled against the claims to superiority put forth by the other.
About half a century ago began those relations towards the Company’s
government, which, as in so many other parts of India, led to the
gradual extinction of the rule of the native rajah; the British govern
‘in the name of the rajah,’ but the rajah’s authority remains in
abeyance. The military force belonging specially to the state, at the
time of the mutiny, amounted to about ten thousand men of all arms. It
was, however, among the Company’s own troops that the disaffection above
adverted to took place. The 27th Bombay native infantry, without any
previous symptoms of disaffection, suddenly mutinied at Kolapore, on the
day of a festival called the Buckree Eed (1st of August); or rather, a
portion of the regiment mutinied. While the officers were assembled in
the billiard-room of their mess-house on the evening of that day, a
jemadar rushed in and informed them that some of the sepoys had risen in
revolt; the officers hastened out; when three of them, ignorant of the
place, or bewildered in the darkness, went astray, and were taken and
murdered by the mutineers. The mother of the jemadar went to the house
of Major Rolland, the commanding officer, to warn the ladies of their
danger, and to afford them means of escape. No sooner had the ladies
hurried away, than the house was surrounded by mutineers, who,
disappointed at finding it empty, revenged themselves by slaughtering
the old woman. After plundering the treasury of forty thousand rupees,
the mutineers retired to a religious edifice in the town, and marched
off in early morning by the Phoonda Ghat towards Wagotun, on the coast.
The native commissioned officers of the regiment remained faithful; none
of them accompanied the mutineers. The outbreak ended most disastrously
to those concerned in it. When they got some distance from Kolapore,
they found themselves without food and without friends; and gradually
nearly all were destroyed by detachments sent against them, headed by
Major Rolland and Colonel Maughan, the latter of whom was British
resident at Kolapore. There were circumstances which justify a belief
that this was not so much a mutiny after the Bengal type, as an
association of the bad men of the regiment for purposes of plunder.
This event at Kolapore threw the whole of the south Mahratta country
into a ferment. At Poonah, Satara, Belgaum, Dharwar, Rutnagherry, Sawunt
Waree, and other places, the threads of a Mohammedan conspiracy were
detected; and fortunately the germs of insurrection were nipped in the
bud. When Mr Rose, commissioner of Satara, found that the deposed royal
family of that state were engaged in plots and intrigues, he took a
small but reliable English force, entered Satara before daylight on the
6th of August, surrounded the palace, and ordered the rajah and the
ranees to prepare for instant departure. Resistance being useless, the
royal prisoners entered phaetons which had been brought for that
purpose, and before eight o’clock they were on the way to Poonah—to be
kept under the eye of the Bombay authorities until the political
atmosphere should become clearer, in a navy depôt on an island near
Bombay city. A plot was about the same time discovered at Poonah,
concerted between the moulvies of that place and of Belgaum, for
massacring the Europeans and native Christians of those stations;
letters were intercepted at the Poonah post-office, which enabled the
authorities to shun the coming evil. Many arrests of Mussulman
conspirators were made; and it was then found that matters had gone so
far as a preparation to blow up the arsenal at Poonah. The authorities
at once disarmed the natives of the cantonment bazaar. From most of the
out-stations, being troubled by these events, the English ladies were
sent by military escort to Bombay or to Poonah. Among other measures of
precaution, the remaining companies of the 27th native regiment were
disarmed at Kolapore and Rutnagherry; and examples of the terrible
‘blowing away from guns’ were resorted to, to check this incipient
revolution. The 28th Bombay native infantry, stationed at Dharwar, and
the 29th, stationed at Belgaum, had been raised at the same time as the
27th; and a few symptoms of insubordination were manifested by sepoys of
those regiments; but the timely arrival of a European regiment restored
quiet. The English were greatly exasperated when the fact came to light
that one of the conspirators detected at Belgaum was a moonshee who had
been receiving a hundred and fifty rupees per month for instructing
officers of regiments in Hindustani.
The three presidencies were all anxiously watching the state of feeling
in the large and important country of Hyderabad, the dominions of the
Nizam; for that country borders on Nagpoor on the northeast; while on
the southeast and on the west it is conterminous with districts
belonging to Madras and to Bombay respectively. Its two largest cities,
Hyderabad in the southeast portion, and Aurungabad in the northwest,
contained many English families belonging to military and civil servants
of the Company; or at least the families were at stations not far from
those cities. By the terms of various treaties between the Nizam and the
Company, the latter had the right of maintaining a large military
cantonment at Secunderabad, a few miles north of Hyderabad city. This
cantonment was three miles in length, and was well provided with
officers’ bungalows and mess-houses, European barracks, sepoy lines,
horse-artillery lines, foot-artillery barracks, native bazaars,
parade-ground, hospitals, arsenal, and all the other requisites for a
large military station. The cavalry lines were two miles north of the
cantonment, at Bowenpilly. The military station for the troops belonging
to the Nizam as an independent sovereign was at Bolarum, somewhat
further away from Hyderabad, but still within easy reach of
Secunderabad. At the time of the mutiny the British resident at
Hyderabad was placed in a position of some difficulty. Although there
was a large force at Secunderabad, it comprised scarcely any British
troops; and therefore, if trouble arose, he could only look to defence
from natives by natives. The capital of the Deccan, or the Nizam’s
territory, comprised within itself many elements of insecurity. The
government and a large portion of the inhabitants were Mohammedan; the
rabble of the city was numerous and ruthless; the Nizam’s own army was
formed on the same model as the contingents which had so generally
mutinied in Hindostan; the Company’s own forces, as just mentioned, were
almost entirely native; and the city and province were at all times
thronged with predatory bands of Rohillas, Afghans, Arabs, and other
mercenaries, in the pay of the nobles and jaghiredars of the Hyderabad
court. It is almost certain that if the Nizam had turned against us,
Southern India would have been in a blaze of insurrection; but he was
faithful; and his chief minister, Salar Jung, steadily supported him in
all measures calculated to put down disturbance. The news of the
rebel-triumph at Delhi set in tumultuous motion the turbulent Mussulmans
of Hyderabad; and it has been well observed that ‘a single moment of
indecision, a single act of impolicy, a single false step, or a single
admission of weakness, might have turned Hyderabad into a Lucknow and
made a second Oude of the Deccan.’ The Nizam, his prime minister, and
the British resident, all brought sagacity and firmness to bear on the
duties of their respective offices; and thus the Deccan and Southern
India were saved. What might have been the case under other
circumstances was foreshadowed by the events of the 17th of July. On the
preceding day, intelligence was received at the Residency, which stands
clear of the city, but at the distance of some few miles from the
British cantonment at Secunderabad, that the mob in the city was much
excited, and that a scheme was on foot to press the Nizam to attack the
Residency. Notice was sent from the Residency to Salar Jung, and
preparations were made. Early in the evening on the 17th, a Rohilla
rabble stole forth from the city, and made for the Residency. An express
was at once sent off to cantonments for aid; and in the meantime the
guard, with three guns, went out to attack the insurgents. Captain
Holmes plied his grape-shot effectively from the three guns; and when
cavalry and horse-artillery arrived from Secunderabad, the Rohillas
received a total discomfiture. This was almost the only approach to a
mutiny that occurred in the portion of the Deccan near the Carnatic
frontier.
Aurungabad, on the Bombay side of the Nizam’s dominions, was, in regard
to mutinies, less important than Hyderabad, because more easily
accessible for European troops; but more important, in so far as the
sepoy regiments of Malwah and Rajpootana were nearer at hand to be
affected by evil temptation. The city is about seventy miles distant
from Ahmednuggur, and a hundred and seventy from Bombay. Uneasiness
prevailed here so early as June. The 1st cavalry and the 2d infantry, of
the corps called the Hyderabad Contingent, were stationed at Aurungabad;
and of these, the former shewed signs of disaffection. Captain Abbott,
commanding the regiment, found on the morning of the 13th that his men
were murmuring and threatening, as if unwilling to act against mutineers
elsewhere; indeed, they had sworn to murder their officers if any
attempt were made to employ them in that way. Fortunately, the
ressaldars—each being a native captain of a troop of cavalry, and there
being therefore as many ressaldars in a regiment as there were troops or
companies—remained faithful; and Captain Abbott, with Lieutenant Dowker,
were enabled to discuss with these officers the state of the regiment.
The ressaldars assured the captain that many of the troopers had begun
to talk loudly about the King of Delhi as their rightful ruler. The
resident at the court of the Nizam, through the military secretary,
Major Briggs, advised Captain Abbott—seeing that no aid could be
expected from any other quarter—to speak in as conciliatory a tone as
possible to the men, and to promise them that they should not be
required to act against the insurgents at Delhi, provided they would be
obedient to other orders. Quiet was in this way restored; but it being a
dangerous precedent thus to allow troops to decide where and against
whom they would choose to fight, Major-general Woodburn, who had been
placed in command of a movable column from Bombay, marched through
Ahmednuggur to Aurungabad. This column consisted of the 28th Bombay
native infantry, the 14th dragoons, Captain Woolcombe’s battery, and a
pontoon train. When Woodburn arrived, he found that the ladies had all
left the Aurungabad station, that the officers were living barricaded in
the mess-room, and that all the Nizam’s troops exhibited unfavourable
symptoms. The first native cavalry, when confronted with Woodburn’s
troops, behaved in a very daring way; and about a hundred of them made
off, owing to the unwillingness of the general to open fire upon them,
although Abbott and Woolcombe saw the importance of so doing.
In the country north of Bombay, and between it and Malwah, many slight
events occurred, sufficient to shew that the native troops were in an
agitated state, as if oscillating between the opposite principles of
fidelity and treachery. It was worthy of note, however, that the troops
thus affected were, in very few instances, those belonging to the
Company’s Bombay army; they were generally contingent corps, or
Mahrattas, or Rajpoots, or men imbued with the same ideas as the
Hindustanis and Oudians. Towards the close of July, a few troopers of
the Gujerat Irregular Horse endeavoured to incite their companions to
mutiny; they failed, and then decamped; but were pursued and captured,
and then hung in presence of their own regiment.
Still further northward lies the country which, under the various names
of Scindia’s territory, Holkar’s territory, Malwah, and Bhopal, has
already been described as the chief seat of the Mahratta power, and
which corresponds pretty nearly with the region marked out by the
Company’s officials as ‘Central India.’ We have seen in former pages[77]
that Scindia, chief of the Mahratta state of which Gwalior is the
capital, offered the aid of his Contingent army to Mr Colvin in May;
that Lieutenant Cockburn, with half a cavalry regiment of this
Contingent, rendered good service in the region around Agra, until the
troopers deserted him; that the fidelity of Scindia to the British alone
prevented his troops generally from joining the rebels, for they
belonged to the same Hindustani and Oudian families, though serving a
Mahratta prince in a Mahratta state; that after certain detachments had
mutinied at Neemuch and elsewhere, the main body rose in revolt at
Gwalior on the 14th of June, murdered some of the English officers,
drove away the rest with their families, and formally threw off all
allegiance to the Company; and that Maharajah Scindia, under
circumstances of great difficulty and peril, managed to keep peace at
Gwalior—retaining and feeding the troops at that place, and yet
discountenancing their mutinous tendencies against the British. If he
had not acted with much tact and judgment, the Gwalior Contingent would
have marched to Agra in a body, and greatly imperiled the British ‘raj.’
Not only did he keep those troublesome troops near him during the
remaining half of June, but also during July and August. Scindia’s
special army, entirely under his own control, were chiefly Mahrattas,
who had little sympathy with the soldiers of the Contingent; but they
were too few in number to put down the latter, and therefore he was
forced to temporise—partly by persuasions and promises, partly by
threats. Major Macpherson, the British political agent, and Brigadier
Ramsey, the military commandant, ceased to have influence at Gwalior; it
was Scindia’s good faith alone that stood the British in stead.
[Illustration:
Mount Aboo—Military Sanitarium in Rajpootana.
]
Holkar’s Mahratta territory, with Indore for its chief city, we have, in
like manner, seen to be troubled with a mutinous spirit in the
Contingent troops, partly owing to temptation from other quarters. We
have briefly shewn in the chapters lately cited, that on the 28th of May
the 15th and 30th Bengal native infantry revolted at Nuseerabad; that on
the 2d of June, influenced by this pernicious example, the 72d B. N. I.,
the 7th regiment of Gwalior Contingent infantry, and the main body of
the 1st Bengal native cavalry, mutinied at Neemuch; that on the 1st of
July, a portion of Holkar’s Contingent rose against the British at
Indore, without his wish or privity, and that he could not get even his
own special troops to act against those of the Contingent; that, on the
evening of the same day, the 23d Bengal native infantry, and one
squadron of the 1st Bengal native cavalry, mutinied at Mhow; and that
numerous British officers and their families were thrown into great
misery by these several occurrences. It now remains to be stated that,
during July and August, Holkar adopted nearly the same course as
Scindia; he remained faithful to the British, and endeavoured to quell
the mutinous spirit among his troops. Holkar possessed, however, less
influence than his brother-chieftain; most of the mutineers from Indore
and Mhow marched to Gwalior, and were only prevented by the shrewdness
of Scindia from extending their march to Agra.
Among the troops in Rajpootana were the Deesa Field Brigade, commanded
towards the close of August by Brigadier Creagh, who had under his
control the troops at Deesa, those at the sanitarium on Mount Aboo, and
those at Erinpoora and other places in the neighbourhood. These places
were thrown into confusion during the last two weeks of the month, by
the mutiny of the Jhodpore legion, consisting partly of cavalry and
partly of infantry. Such of these men as were stationed at Erinpoora,
about 550 in number, rose in mutiny on the 22d. They suddenly threw off
their allegiance; seized the guns; made prisoners of Lieutenant Conolly
and the European serjeants; plundered the bazaar and some of the native
villages; burned all the officers’ bungalows, and destroyed or
appropriated all that they found therein; lived in tents on the
parade-ground for three days; and then marched off in the direction of
Nuseerabad. The cavalry, although forming part of the same legion, and
sharing in the movement, protected the Europeans from the infantry.
Among the latter, it was only the Hindustani portion which revolted;
there were some Bheels in the legion who remained faithful. On the
preceding day (21st), about 100 men of the legion had mutinied at Mount
Aboo; but as there was a detachment of H.M. 83d there, the mutineers did
nothing but hastily escape. A native chieftain, the Rao of Sihori, was
prompt to render any aid he could to Captain Hall at Mount Aboo. Another
portion of the Jhodpore legion was at Jhodpore itself, where the mutiny
placed in great peril Captain Monck Mason, British resident at that
native state; by his energy, he provided an asylum for many ladies and
children who had been driven from other stations; but he himself fell by
the swords of a body of mutinous troopers, under circumstances of
mingled cowardice and brutality.
The state of this part of India during July and August may be summed up
in a few words. By the revolt of the Contingents of Scindia, Holkar, and
Bhopal, and of the Jhodpore legion, English residents were driven from
station to station in much peril and suffering, and English influence
became for a time almost a nullity; but the native chieftains for the
most part remained faithful, even though their troops revolted; and
there were hopes of ultimate success from the arrival of relieving
columns belonging to the Bombay army. Of that army, a few fragments of
regiments occasionally displayed mutinous symptoms, but not to such a
degree as to leaven the whole mass. What the officers felt through the
treachery of the troops, and what their families suffered during all
these strange events, need not again be described; both phases of the
Revolt have received many illustrations in former pages; but this
chapter may fittingly close with two short extracts from letters
relating to the mutinies at the stations of Mhow and Indore. An
artillery officer, commenting on the ingratitude of the sepoys towards
commanders who had always used them well, said: ‘I must not forget to
mention that Colonel Platt was like a father to the men; and that when
he had an opportunity of leaving them and joining a European corps last
summer, the men petitioned him to stay. He had been upwards of thirty
years with them, and when the mutiny took place he had so much
confidence in them that he rode up to their lines before we could get
out. When we found him next morning, both cheeks were blown off, his
back completely riddled with balls, one through each thigh, his chin
smashed into his mouth, and three sabre-cuts between the cheekbone and
temple; also a cut across the shoulder and the back of the neck.’ The
following few words are from the letters of a lady who was among those
that escaped death by flight from Indore: ‘I have already given you an
account of our three days and three nights of wandering, with little
rest and not much food, no clothes to change, burning sun, and deluges
of rain; but —— and I, perhaps, could bear these things better than
others, and suffered less. When we heard the poor famishing children
screaming for food, we could but thank God that ours were not with us,
but safe in England. We found kind friends here, and I am in Mrs ——‘s
clothes; everything we had being gone. The destructive wretches, after
we left Indore, commenced doing all the damage they could—cutting up
carpets with their tulwars, smashing chandeliers, marble tables, slabs,
chairs, &c.; they even cut out the cloth and lining of our carriages,
hacking up the woodwork. The Residency is uninhabitable, and almost all
have lost everything. I might have saved a few things in the hour and a
half that elapsed between the outbreak and our retreat; but I had so
relied on some of our defenders, and felt so secure of holding on, that
flight never for a moment occurred to me.’
Note.
_The British at the Military Stations._—The reader will have
gathered, from the details given in various chapters, that the
stations at which the military servants of the Company resided, in
the _Mofussil_ or country districts, bore a remarkable relation to
the Indian towns and cities. They were in most cases separated from
the towns by distances varying from one mile to ten, and formed
small towns in themselves. Sometimes the civil officers had their
bungalows and cutcheries near these military cantonments; while in
other instances they were in or near the city to which the
cantonment was a sort of appendage. Such, with more or less variety
of detail, was the case at Patna (Dinapoor), Benares (Chunar),
Cawnpore, Lucknow, Allahabad, Furruckabad (Futteghur), Agra, Delhi,
Gwalior, Lahore (Meean Meer), Nagpoor (Kamptee), Indore (Mhow),
Hyderabad (Secunderabad), Moorshedabad (Berhampore), Saugor, &c. The
marked separation between the native and the British portions of the
military stations has been described in a very animated way, by an
able and distinguished correspondent of the _Times_, one of whose
letters contains the following paragraph:
‘For six miles along the banks of the Ganges extend the ruins of the
English station of Cawnpore. You observe how distinct they are from
the city. The palace of the Victoria Regia at Chatsworth is not more
unlike the dirty ditch in which lives the humble duck-weed—Belgravia
is not more dissimilar to Spitalfields—than is the English quarter
of an Indian station to the city to which it is attached. The one is
generally several miles away from the other. There is no common
street, no link to connect the one with the others; and the one
knows nothing of the other. Here are broad roads, lined on each side
with trees and walls, or with park-like grounds, inside which you
can catch glimpses of gaily-painted one-storied villas, of brick,
covered with cement, decorated with Corinthian colonnades,
porticoes, and broad verandahs—each in its own wide park, with
gardens in front, orchards, and out-offices. There are narrow,
tortuous, unpaved lanes, hemmed in by tottering, haggard, miserable
houses, close and high, and packed as close as they can stand (and
only for that they would fall), swarming with a hungry-eyed
population. The mosque and the Hindoo temple are near each other,
but they both shun the church, just as the station avoids the
city.... In the station there are hotels, ball-rooms, magazines,
shops, where all the habits and customs of Europe, sometimes
improved and refined by the influence of the East, are to be found;
and when the cool of the evening sets in, out stream the carriages
and horses and buggies, for the fashionable drive past the long line
of detached villas within their neat enclosures, surrounded by
shadowing groves and rich gardens. They pass the lines or barracks
of the native infantry—a race of whom they know almost less than
they do of the people of the town; and they are satisfied with the
respect of action, with the sudden uprising, the stiff attitude of
attention, the cold salute, regardless of the insolence and dislike
of the eye; they chat and laugh, marry and are given in marriage,
have their horse-races, their balls, their card-parties, their
dinners, their plate, their tradesmen’s bills, their debts; in fact,
their everything that English society has, and thus they lived till
the deluge came upon them. We all know how nobly they stemmed its
force, what heroic struggles they made against its fury. But what a
surprise when it burst in upon them! What a blow to all their
traditions! What a rebuke to their blind confidence! There is at the
moment I write these lines a slight explosion close at hand,
followed by the ascent of some dark columns of earth and bricks into
the air. We are blowing up the Assembly-rooms of Cawnpore in order
to clear the ground in front of the guns of our intrenchment, and
billiard-rooms and ball-rooms are flying up in fragments to the
skies. Is not that a strange end for all Cawnpore society to come
to? Is it not a curious commentary on our rule, and on our position
in India?’
[Illustration:
Native Musicians at a Sepoy station.
]
-----
Footnote 67:
Chaps. ix., x., xi.: pp. 147-191.
Footnote 68:
‘On the morning of the 18th they were not a mile off, so at noon we
marched through the city to meet them. Our force consisted of 160
sepoys and 100 irregular cavalry or sowars, one six-pounder, and eight
men to work it. This gun was an old one that had been put up to fire
every day at noon. I rigged it out with a new carriage, made shot and
grape, and got it all in order. With my gun I kept the fellows in
front in check; but there were too many of them. There were from 2500
to 3000 fighting-men, armed with matchlocks and swords, and many
thousands who had come to plunder. They outflanked us on both sides,
and the balls came in pretty fast. Men and horses were killed by my
side, but, thank God, I escaped unhurt! We retired through the city to
our intrenchments, followed by the enemy. They made several attacks,
coming up every time within a hundred yards; but they could not stand
the grape. At five P.M. they made their last attempt; but a lucky shot
I made with the gun sent them to the right-about. They lost heart, and
were seen no more. We killed from 150 to 200 of them, our own loss
being 18 killed and wounded, and eight horses. All their wounded and a
lot of others were cut up during their retreat by the rascally
villagers, who would have done the same to us had the day gone against
us. Our victory was complete. Not a house in Azimghur was plundered,
and the whole of the rebels have since dispersed. Please God, as soon
as I hear of Lucknow being relieved, I’ll be after them again. They
have paid me the compliment of offering five hundred rupees for my
head.’
Footnote 69:
‘In the evening there was a fearful though causeless panic at Rajghat,
where the intrenchment is being made. The cry arose: “The enemy are
coming.” The workmen, 3000 in number, rushed down the hill as for
their lives. Prisoners who were at work tried to make their escape,
and were with difficulty recovered. Gentlemen ran for their rifles;
the soldiers got under arms; the gunners rushed to their guns; and
altogether, there was indescribable confusion and terror. All this was
the result of a succession of peals of thunder, which were mistaken
for the firing of artillery!’
Footnote 70:
Chapter xi., pp. 177-181.
Footnote 71:
Men. Women. Boys. Girls. Total.
Europeans, 1065 289 344 291 1989
East Indians, 443 331 429 339 1542
Native Christians, 267 177 205 209 858
Hindoos, 942 49 162 4 1157
Mohammedans, 244 10 42 3 299
———— ——— ———— ——— ————
2961 856 1182 846 5845
Footnote 72:
3d Europeans, 154 officers and men.
Artillery, 61 officers and men.
Militia, 22 officers and men.
Jât matchlockmen, 70 officers and men.
Two 9-pounders; one 24-pounder howitzer.
Footnote 73:
Chapter xii., pp. 193-205.
Footnote 74:
Chapter xi., pp. 176-190.
Footnote 75:
‘We were still looking at the scene and speculating upon the tenants
of the tombs, when an old Mussulman came near us with a salam; he
accosted us, and I asked him in whose honour the tomb had been
erected. His reply struck me at the time as rather remarkable. “That,”
said he, pointing to the largest, “is the tomb of the Nawab Mustapha;
he reigned about 100 years ago: and that,” pointing to a smaller
mausoleum near it, “is the tomb of his dewan, and it was he who
counselled the nawab thus: ‘Beware of the French, for they are
soldiers, and will attack and dispossess you of your country; but
cherish the Englishman, for he is a merchant, and will enrich it.’ The
nawab listened to that advice, and see here!” The old man was
perfectly civil and respectful in his manner, but his tone was sad: it
spoke the language of disappointment and hostility, if hostility were
possible. In this case the man referred to our late assumption of the
Carnatic, upon the death of the last nawab, who died without issue. As
a general rule, never was a conquered country so mildly governed as
India has been under our rule; but you can scarcely expect that the
rulers we dispossessed, even though like ourselves they be foreigners,
and only held the country by virtue of conquest, will cede us the
precedence without a murmur.’
Footnote 76:
‘MY LORD—We, the undersigned inhabitants of Bombay, have observed with
sincere regret the late lamentable spread of mutiny and disaffection
among the Bengal native soldiery, and we have read with feelings of
horror and indignation the accounts of the cowardly and savage
atrocities perpetrated by the ruthless mutineers on such unfortunate
Europeans as fell into their hands.
‘While those who have ever received at the hands of government such
unvarying kindness and consideration have proved untrue to their salt
and false to their colours, it has afforded us much pleasure to
observe the unquestionable proof of attachment manifested by the
native princes, zemindars, and people of Upper India in at once and
unsolicited rallying around government and expressing their abhorrence
of the dastardly and ungrateful conduct of the insurgent soldiery.
Equally demanding admiration are the stanchness and fidelity displayed
by the men of the Bombay and Madras armies.
‘That we have not earlier hastened to assure your lordship of our
unchangeable loyalty, and to place our services at the disposal of
government, has arisen from the entire absence in our minds of any
apprehension of disaffection or outbreak on this side of India.
‘We still are without any fears for Bombay; but, lest our silence
should be misunderstood, and with a view to allay the fears which
false reports give rise to, we beg to place our services at the
disposal of government, to be employed in any manner that your
lordship may consider most conducive to the preservation of the public
peace and safety.
‘We beg to remain, my lord, your most obedient and faithful servants,
‘NOWROJEE JAMSETJEE, &c., &c.’
Footnote 77:
Chapter vii., p. 111; chapter xi., pp. 181-189.
[Illustration:
BRIGADIER-GENERAL NICHOLSON.—Copied by permission from a Portrait
published by Messrs Gambart.
]
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE SIEGE OF DELHI: FINAL OPERATIONS.
After eleven weeks of hostile occupation, after seven weeks of
besieging, the great city of Delhi still remained in the hands of a
mingled body of mutineers and rebels—mutineers who had thrown off their
soldierly allegiance to their British employers; and rebels who
clustered around the shadowy representative of an extinct Mogul dynasty.
Nay, more—not only was Delhi still unconquered at the end of July; it
was relatively stronger than ever. The siege-army had been increased;
but the besiegers had increased in number in a still larger ratio.
General Anson[78] had had thirteen days of command, in reference to the
preparations for the reconquest of the city, before his death; General
Barnard, forty, before he likewise died; General Reed, twelve, before
his retirement; General Wilson, thirteen, by the end of July; and now
the last-named commander was called upon to measure the strength with
which he could open the August series of siege-operations.
It may be convenient slightly to recapitulate a few events, and to
mention a few dates, connected with the earlier weeks of the siege, as a
means of refreshing the memory of the reader concerning the train of
operations which, in the present chapter, is to be traced to an end.
It will be remembered, then, that as soon as the startling mutinies at
Delhi and Meerut became known to the military authorities at the
hill-stations, the 75th foot were ordered down from Kussowlie, the 1st
Europeans from Dugshai, and the 2d Europeans from Subathoo—all to
proceed to Umballa, there to form portions of a siege-army for Delhi;
that a siege-train was prepared at Phillour; that Generals Anson and
Barnard, and other officers, held a council of war at Umballa on the
16th of May, and concerted such plans as were practicable on the spur of
the moment; and that troops began at once to march southeastward towards
Delhi. We have further seen that Anson was troubled by the presence of
Bengal native troops whom he could not trust, and by the scarcity of
good artillerymen to accompany his siege-train; and that his operations
were suddenly cut off by a fatal attack of cholera, under which he sank
on the 27th. Next we traced twelve days’ operations of Sir Henry
Barnard, during which he had advanced to Raneeput, Paniput, Rhye,
Alipore, Badulla Serai, and Azadpore, to the ridge northward of Delhi,
on which he established his siege-camp on the 8th of June; he had just
been joined by General Wilson, who had beaten the enemy at Ghazeeoodeen
Nuggur, and had crossed the Jumna from Meerut near Bhagput. Then came
the diversified siege-operations of the month of June, with a force
which began about 3000 strong, aided by 22 field-guns and 17 siege-guns
and mortars—the arrival on the 9th of the Guide corps, after their
surprising march in fiercely hot weather from Peshawur; the bold attack
made by the rebels on the same day; the manifest proofs that the
siege-guns were too light, too few, and too distant, to batter the
defences of the city; the commencement on the 13th, but the speedy
abandonment as impracticable, of a project for storming the place; the
continual arrival of mutineers to swell the number of defenders within
Delhi; the daily sallies of the enemy; the daily weakening of the small
British force; and the necessity for employing one-half of the whole
siege-army on picket-duty, to prevent surprises. We have seen how Hindoo
Rao’s house became a constant target for the enemy’s guns, and Metcalfe
House for attacks of less frequency; how Major Reid, with his Goorkhas
and Guides, guarded the ridge with indomitable steadiness, and made
successful attacks on the Eedghah and Kissengunje suburbs; and how
sedulously Barnard was forced to watch the movements of the enemy in the
rear of his camp. Passing from June to July, the details of the former
chapter told us that the siege-army became raised to about 6000 men, by
various reinforcements early in the last-named month; that an assault of
the city was again proposed, and again abandoned; that insurgent troops
poured into Delhi more rapidly than ever; that Sir Henry Barnard died on
the 5th, worn down by anxiety and cholera; that numerous canal-bridges
were destroyed, to prevent the enemy from gaining access to the rear of
the camp; that the British were continually thrown on the defensive,
instead of actively prosecuting the siege; that the few remaining Bengal
native troops in the siege-army were either sent to the Punjaub, or
disarmed and unhorsed, in distrust of their fidelity; that on the 17th,
General Reed gave up the command which had devolved upon him after the
death of Barnard, and was succeeded by Brigadier-general Wilson; and
that towards the close of the month the enemy made many desperate
attempts to turn the flanks and rear of the siege-camp, requiring all
the skill of the British to frustrate them.[79]
August arrived. The besieged, in every way stronger than the besiegers,
continued their attacks on various sides of the heights. They gave
annoyance, but at the same time excited contempt by the manner in which
they avoided open hand-to-hand conflicts. An officer of engineers,
commenting on this matter in a private letter, said: ‘At Delhi, they are
five or six to one against us, and see the miserable attempts they make
to turn us out of our position. They swarm up the heights in front of
our batteries by thousands; the ground is so broken and full of ravines
and rocks, that they can come up the whole way unseen, or you may depend
upon it they would never venture. If they had the pluck of a goose,
their numbers might terrify us. It is in the Subzee Mundee that most of
the hard fighting goes on; they get into and on the tops of the houses,
and fire into our pickets there; this goes on until we send a force from
camp to turn them out, which we invariably do, but not without loss. We
have now cleared the ground all around of the trees, walls, and houses;
as a consequence, there is a large clear space around our pickets, and
Pandy will not venture out of cover; so we generally let him pop away
from a distance until he is tired.’ Early in the month, an attempt was
made to destroy the bridge of boats over the Jumna; the rains had set
in, the river was high, the stream strong, and these were deemed
favourable conditions. The engineers started three ‘infernal machines,’
each consisting of a tub containing fifty pounds of powder, a stick
protruding from the tub, and a spring connected with an explosive
compound; the theory was, that if the tubs floated down to the bridge,
any contact with the stick would explode the contents of the tub, and
destroy one or more of the boats of the bridge; but there is no record
of success attending this adventure. The bridge of boats being a mile
and a half distant from the batteries on the ridge, it could not be
harmed by any guns at that time possessed by the British; and thus the
enemy, throughout the siege, had free and unmolested passage over the
Jumna. The supply of ammunition available to the mutineers seemed to be
almost inexhaustible; the British collected 450 round shot that had been
fired at them from the enemy’s guns in one day; and as the British
artillerymen were few in number, they were worked nearly to exhaustion
in keeping up the necessary cannonade to repel the enemy’s fire.
Although the ‘Pandies’ avoided contests in the open field, many of their
movements were made with much secrecy and skill—especially that of the
1st of August, when at least 5000 troops appeared in the vicinity of the
British position, by a combined movement from two different quarters,
and made an attack which nothing but the courage and skill of Major Reid
and his handful of brave fellows could have withstood. In some of these
numerous operations, when the rainy season commenced, the amount of
fatigue borne by the troops was excessive. It was the special duty of
the cavalry, not being immediately available for siege-services, to
guard the rear of the camp from surprise; and to insure this result,
they held themselves ready to ‘boot and saddle’ at a few minutes’
notice—glad if they could insure only a few hours of sleep in the
twenty-four. Many an officer, on picket or reconnoitring duty, would be
in the saddle twelve hours together, in torrents of rain, without food
or refreshment of any kind. Yet, with all their trials, they spoke and
wrote cheerfully. An artillery-officer said: ‘Our position here is
certainly by nature a wonderfully secure one; and if the Pandies could
not have found a better place than Delhi as the head-quarters of their
mutiny, with an unlimited magazine at their disposal, I doubt if _we_
could have been so well off anywhere else. Providence has assisted us in
every way. From the beginning, the weather has been most propitious; and
in cantonments I have never seen troops so healthy as they are here now.
Cholera occasionally pays us a visit, but that must always be expected
in a large standing camp. The river Jumna completely protects our left
flank and front; while the large jheel (water-course) which runs away to
the southwest is at this season quite impassable for miles, preventing
any surprise on our right flank; so that a few cavalry are sufficient as
a guard for three faces of our position’—that is, a few, if constantly
on the alert, and never shirking a hard day’s work in any weather.
The enemy gradually tired of attacks on the rear of the camp, which
uniformly failed; but they did not cease to maintain an aggressive
attitude. Early in the month, they commenced a series of efforts to
drive the British from the Metcalfe post or picket. This Metcalfe House,
the peaceful residence of a civil-service officer until the disastrous
11th of May, had become an important post to the besiegers. As early as
four days after the arrival of the siege-army on the ridge, the enemy
had emerged from the city, concealed themselves in some ravines around
Sir T. Metcalfe’s house, and thence made a formidable attack on the
Flagstaff Tower. To prevent a recurrence of this danger, a large picket
was sent to occupy the house, and to form it into a river-side or left
flank to the siege-position. This picket was afterwards thrown in
advance of the house, and divided into three portions—one on a mound
near the road leading from the Cashmere Gate to the cantonment Sudder
bazaar; a second in a house midway between this mound and the river; and
a third in a range of stables close to the river. All the portions of
this picket were gradually strengthened by the engineers, as
reinforcements reached them. The Flagstaff Tower was also well guarded;
and as the night-sentries paced the whole distance between the tower and
the Metcalfe pickets, the belt of rugged ground between the ridge and
the river was effectually rendered impassable for the enemy. These
various accessions of strength, however, were made only at intervals, as
opportunity offered; at the time now under notice, they were very
imperfectly finished. The enemy plied the Metcalfe picket vigorously
with shot and shell, from guns brought out of the Cashmere Gate and
posted a few hundred yards in advance of the city wall; while a number
of infantry skirmishers, many of whom were riflemen, kept up a nearly
incessant fire from the jungle in front. Although the losses at the
Metcalfe picket were not numerous, owing to the good cover, the approach
to it for reliefs, etc., was rendered extremely perilous; and as this
species of attack was in many ways annoying to the British, General
Wilson resolved to frustrate it. He placed under the command of
Brigadier Showers a force of about 1300 men,[80] by whom the insurgents
were suddenly surprised on the morning of the 12th, and driven off with
great loss. It was a sharp contest, for the brigadier had more than a
hundred killed and wounded. Showers himself was in the list of wounded;
as were also Major Coke, Captain Greville, Lieutenants Sherriff, James,
Lindesay, Maunsell, and Owen. Four guns belonging to the enemy were
captured and brought into camp; but the chief advantage derived from the
skirmish was in securing the abandonment of a mode of attack likely to
be very annoying to the besiegers. The insurgents, it is true, by
placing guns on the opposite side of the Jumna, frequently sent a shot
or shell across; but the danger here was lessened by shifting the camp
of the 1st Punjaub infantry.
That the siege-army was weakened by these perpetual encounters, need
hardly be said. Every day witnessed the carrying of many gallant fellows
to the camp-hospital or to the grave. At about the middle of August, the
force comprised 3571 European officers and men, and 2070 native officers
and men, fit for duty; with 28 horse-artillery guns (6 and 9 pounders)
and a small supply of siege-artillery. A detail of the component
elements of the force, and of the ratio which the effectives bore to the
sick and wounded, will be more usefully given presently in connection
with the September operations. Knowing well from dearly-bought
experience that he could not successfully assault and capture Delhi with
his present force, General Wilson looked anxiously for reinforcements
from the Punjaub, which were due about the middle of the month. Indeed,
all in camp were prepared to welcome one who, from the daring and energy
which characterised nearly all the operations with which he had been
intrusted, had earned from some the title of the ‘Lion,’ from others
that of the ‘Bayard,’ of the Punjaub. This was Brigadier-general
Nicholson, a soldier who had attained to that rank at an unusually early
age. About the end of June, Sir John Lawrence had intrusted to him a
flying column which had been organised at Wuzeerabad,[81] but which had
undergone many vicissitudes; for Nicholson had been compelled to disarm
all the Bengal native troops who were in his column. As we have seen in
former pages, the brigadier struck terror into the mutineers, and swept
away bands of rebels in front and on either side of him in the region
between the Chenab and the Sutlej. He nearly annihilated the Sealkote
mutineers near Goordaspore,[82] and then cleared the country during a
long march, in fearfully hot weather, to Delhi. He himself with a few
companions reached the city on the 8th of August; but the bulk of his
column did not arrive till the 14th. Its composition had undergone some
change; and it now comprised H.M. 52d foot, the remaining wing of the
61st foot, the 2d Punjaub infantry, 200 Moultan horse, and a small force
of artillery—in all, about 1100 Europeans and 1400 Punjaub troops.
Valuable, however, as was this accession of strength, it could not
immediately affect the siege-operations; seeing that it was necessary to
await the arrival of another siege-train, which Sir John Lawrence had
caused to be collected at Ferozpore, and which was on its way to Delhi,
with great stores of ammunition.
As soon as General Wilson found himself aided by the energetic
Nicholson, he gave additional efficiency to his army by grouping the
infantry into four brigades, thus constituted: _First_ brigade, under
Brigadier Showers, H.M. 75th foot, 2d Bengal Europeans, and the Kumaon
battalion of Goorkhas; _Second_, under Colonel Lenfield, H.M. 52d foot,
H.M. 60th Rifles, and the Sirmoor battalion of Goorkhas; _Third_, under
Colonel Jones, H.M. 8th foot, H.M. 61st foot, and Rothney’s Sikhs;
_Fourth_, under Brigadier Nicholson, 1st Bengal Europeans, 1st Punjaub
infantry (Coke’s rifles), and 2d Punjaub infantry (Green’s Rifles). The
Guides were not brigaded, but were left free for service in any quarter.
The cavalry was placed under Brigadier Grant, and the artillery under
Brigadier Garbett. Nicholson had brought with him a few guns;
nevertheless it was necessary, as just remarked, to wait for a regular
siege-train before a bombardment of the city could be attempted. The
camp, organised as it now was, although it put on a somewhat more
regular appearance than before, was a singular phenomenon, owing to the
mode in which European and Asiatic elements were combined in it. An
officer who was present through all the operations has given, in a
letter which went the round of the newspapers, a graphic account of the
camp, with its British and native troops, its varieties of costume, its
dealers and servants, its tents and animals, and all the details of a
scene picturesque to an observer who could for a moment forget the stern
meaning which underlay it.[83] About the time of Nicholson’s arrival,
Lieutenant Hodson was intrusted by General Wilson with an enterprise
small in character but useful in result. It was to watch a party of the
enemy who had moved out from Delhi on the Rohtuk road, and to afford
support, if necessary, either to Soneeput or to the Jheend rajah, who
remained faithful to his alliance with the British. Hodson started on
the night of the 14th of August with a detachment of about 350 cavalry,
comprising 230 of the irregular horse named after himself, 100 Guide
cavalry, and a few Jheend cavalry. The enemy were known to have passed
through Samplah on the way to Rohtuk; and Hodson resolved to anticipate
them by a flank-movement. On the 15th, at the village of Khurkowdeh, he
captured a large number of mutineer cavalry, by a stratagem at once bold
and ingenious. On the 16th the enemy marched to Rohtuk, and Hodson in
pursuit of them. On the 17th skirmishes took place near Rohtuk itself;
but on the 18th Hodson succeeded in drawing forth the main body of
rebels, who suffered a speedy and complete defeat. They were not simply
mutineers from Delhi; they comprised many depredatory bodies that
greatly troubled such of the petty rajahs as wished to remain faithful
to or in alliance with the British. Lieutenant Hodson, by dispersing
them, aided in pacifying the district around the siege-camp—a matter of
much consideration. A letter from one of the officers of the Guides will
afford a good idea of the manner in which all fought in those stirring
times, and of the language in which the deeds were narrated when the
formality of official documents was not needed.[84]
For ten days after Nicholson’s arrival, little was effected on either
side save this skirmish of Hodson’s at Rohtuk. Wilson did not want to
begin; it was not his strategy; he steadily held his own until the
formidable siege-train could arrive. On the other hand, the enemy were
foiled in every movement; all their attacks had failed.
Nicholson was on the alert to render good service; and the opportunity
was not long in presenting itself. His energy as a soldier and his skill
as a general were rendered very conspicuous in his battle of Nujuffghur,
resembling in its tactics some of those in which Havelock had been
engaged. General Wilson obtained intelligence that a force of the enemy
was advancing from Delhi towards Bahadoorghur, with the apparent
intention of attacking the siege-camp in the rear; the distance between
the city and the town being about twenty miles, and the latter being
nearly due west of the former. Or, as seems more probable (seeing that
all attacks on the rear of the camp had signally failed), the enemy may
have intended to cross the Nujuffghur jheel or water-course, and
intercept the siege-train which they as well as the British knew to be
on the way from Ferozpore. One account of the matter is, that Bukhtar
Singh, a rebel who had gained unenviable notoriety at Bareilly, had got
into disfavour with the King of Delhi for his want of success as one of
the military leaders within the city; that he had offered, if a good
force were only placed at his disposal, to wipe off the discredit by a
crowning victory over the Feringhees; and that, in pursuance of this
object, he proposed to get in rear of the siege-camp, intercept the
expected siege-train, capture it, and cut off all communication between
the camp and Umballa. Whatever may have been the main purpose, the
expeditionary force was of considerable strength, amounting to 7000 men,
and comprising the whole or large portions of six mutinied infantry
regiments, three of irregular cavalry, and numerous artillery. The
general, on receipt of this information, at once placed a column[85]
under the command of Brigadier Nicholson, with instructions to frustrate
the operations of the enemy. The brigadier started at daybreak on the
25th of August, crossed two difficult swamps, and arrived at Nanglooe, a
village about midway between Delhi and Bahadoorghur. During a halt and a
reconnoitre, it was found that the enemy had crossed a bridge over the
Nujuffghur jheel, and would probably encamp in the afternoon near the
town of the same name. Nicholson determined to push on against them that
same evening. After another ten-mile march, during which his troops had
to wade through a sheet of water three feet deep, he came up with the
enemy about five o’clock, and found them posted in a position two miles
in length, extending from the bridge to the town: they had thirteen
guns, of which four were in a strong position at an old serai on their
left centre. The brigadier, after a brief reconnaissance, resolved first
to attack the enemy’s left centre, which was their strongest point, and
then, ‘changing front to the left,’ sweep down their line of guns
towards the bridge. His guns having fired a few rounds, the critical
moment for a charge arrived; he addressed his men, told them what a
bayonet charge had always been in the British army, and
shouted—‘Advance!’ The infantry charged, and drove the enemy out of the
serai with great impetuosity. He then changed front to the left, and so
completely outflanked the enemy that they fled at once from the field,
leaving thirteen guns behind them. While this was being done, Lieutenant
Lumsden advanced to Nujuffghur, and cleared it of insurgents. A small
number of the enemy concealed themselves in the neighbouring village of
Nuglee; and when attacked, in a way that left no loophole for escape,
they fought so desperately as to bring down a considerable number of
Lumsden’s party, including the lieutenant himself. The enemy’s cavalry
effected little or nothing; while Nicholson’s was employed chiefly in
guarding baggage and escorting guns. Nicholson passed the night near the
bridge, which had been the object of a fierce attack and defence during
the evening, and which he succeeded in blowing up about two o’clock in
the morning—thus cutting off one of the few approaches by which the
mutineers from the city could get to the main line of road behind the
camp. Nicholson returned to camp on the 26th, after a few hours’ rest
for his exhausted troops. They had indeed had a hard day’s labour on the
25th; for they marched eighteen miles to the field of battle—starting at
daybreak, and crossing two difficult swamps before they could arrive at
Nanglooe; and, to use the words of their commander in his dispatch, ‘as
it would not have been prudent to take the baggage across the ford at
Baprowla, they were obliged, after fourteen hours’ marching and
fighting, to bivouac on the field without food or covering of any kind.’
There seems to have been something wrong here. One of the officers has
said: ‘Unfortunately, through some mistake, I suppose, the grog for the
men had not arrived, nor commissariat rations; and it is wonderful how
they bore up against the privations of a long march, some hard fighting,
and no food. A little grumbling was occasionally heard, but good-humour
and cheerfulness were the order of the day.’ Such of them as had time to
sleep at all during the night, slept on the damp ground; but all these
exigencies of a soldier’s life were soon forgotten, and the troops
returned to camp in high spirits at their success. Nicholson had relied
fully on the Punjaubees in the day of battle, and they justified his
reliance, for they emulated the courage and soldierly qualities of the
European troops who formed the _élite_ of the force. He had to regret
the loss of 25 killed, including Lieutenants Lumsden and Gabbett; and of
70 wounded, including Major Jacob and Lieutenant Elkington. The
brigadier’s official dispatch contained some curious particulars not
always given in such documents. It appears that during the day his men
fired off 17,000 musket and rifle charges, and 650 cannon-shot and
shells—a murderous torrent, that may perhaps convey to the mind of a
reader some faint idea of the terrible ordeal of a battle. He captured
all the enemy’s guns and ammunition; but a better result was, the
frustration of an attack which might have been very annoying, if not
dangerous, on the rear of the camp. Of the guns captured, nine were
English field-pieces, formerly belonging to the regular Bengal army;
while the other four were native brass guns belonging to the imperial
palace at Delhi.
The Delhi insurgents, whether well or ill commanded, manifested no
careless inattention to what was occurring outside the city walls. They
were nearly always well informed of the proceedings of the besiegers.
They knew that a large siege-train was expected, which they much longed
to intercept; they knew that Brigadier Nicholson had gone out to
Nujuffghur on the morning of the 25th; they knew that he had not
returned to camp on the morning of the 26th; and they resolved on
another attack on the camp in its then weakened state. All was in vain,
however; in this as in every similar attempt they were beaten. As soon
as they made their appearance, General Wilson strengthened his pickets.
The enemy commenced by a fire with field-guns from Ludlow Castle against
the Mosque picket; but the attack never became serious; it was steadily
met, and the enemy, after suffering severely, retired into the city.
During the later days of August, the enemy attempted little more than a
series of skirmishing attacks on the pickets. If, once now and then,
they appeared in force outside the walls as though about to attack in a
body, the intention was speedily abandoned, and they disappeared again
within the city. No evidence was afforded that they were headed by any
officer possessing unity of command and military ability. There was no
Sevajee, no Hyder among them. ‘Often,’ as an eye-witness observed, ‘like
an undisciplined mob, at best merely an agglomeration of regiments, the
rebels have attacked us again and again, and fiercely enough when under
cover, but always with a poverty of conception and want of plan that
betrayed the absence of a master-mind. And now that they know strong
reinforcements have joined our army, and that the day of retribution is
not far distant—although they may make an attempt to intercept the
siege-train—yet by their vacillating and abortive gatherings outside the
walls, and by the dissensions and desertions that are rife within, they
shew that the huge body of the insurrection is still without a vigorous
and life-giving spirit.’
True as this may have been in the particular instance, it is
nevertheless impossible not to be struck with the fact that the
mutineers maintained a remarkable degree of organisation after they had
forsworn their allegiance; the men of all the corps rallied round the
colours belonging to each particular regiment; and those regiments which
had customarily been massed into brigades, long strove to maintain the
brigade character. Although the insurrection possessed few elements of
unity, although the rebels could not form an army, or operate
comprehensively in the field, they sought to maintain the organisation
which their late British masters had given to them. There had usually
been a brigade of two, three, or four native regiments at each of the
larger military stations; from the station the brigade took its name;
and when the mutiny was many months old, the mutineers were still
recognisable as belonging to the brigades which they had once loyally
served—such as the Bareilly brigade, the Neemuch brigade, the Dinapoor
brigade, the Nuseerabad brigade, &c. Although single regiments and
fragments of regiments entered Delhi, to maintain the standard of
rebellion against the English ‘raj,’ nevertheless the majority were
distinguishable as brigaded forces. The Delhi brigade itself, consisting
of the 38th, 54th, and 74th regiments native infantry, formed the
material on which the Meerut brigade had worked on the 11th of May. This
Meerut brigade comprised the 11th and 20th infantry, and the 3d cavalry.
On the 16th of June arrived the Nuseerabad brigade, consisting of the
15th and 30th infantry, with horse and foot artillery; on the 22d, the
Jullundur and Phillour brigades entered, comprising the 3d, 36th, and
61st infantry, and the 6th cavalry; on the 1st and 2d of June came the
Bareilly or Rohilcund brigade, including the 18th, 28th, 29th, and 68th
infantry, and the 8th irregular cavalry; and later in the same month
came the Neemuch and Jhansi brigades. Even when combined within the
walls of Delhi, each brigade constituted a sort of family or community,
having to a great extent a way and a will of its own. The history of a
hundred years has shewn that the sepoys always fought well when well
commanded; and their ineffective fighting as mutineers may hence be
attributed in part to the fact that they were _not_ well commanded.
It was about this period, the latter half of August, that an unfortunate
English lady—unfortunate in being so long in the hands of brutal
men—escaped from Delhi under circumstances which were narrated by the
Bombay and Calcutta newspapers as below.[86] She was the wife of one of
the civil officers of the Company engaged at Delhi before the mutiny;
but as the newspaper narratives were not always correct in matters of
identification, the name will not be given here.
September arrived, and with it many indications that the siege would
soon present new and important features. Little is known of what passed
within Delhi during those days; but General Wilson learned from various
sources that the mutineers were in a very dissatisfied state at the
failure of all their attempts to dislodge the besiegers, or even to
disturb in any material degree the plan of the siege. They were without
a responsible and efficient leader, and were split up into small
sections; they had no united scheme of operations; nor were they
adequately provided with money to meet their daily demands.
With the besiegers, on the other hand, prospects were brightening. The
siege-train, when it arrived early in September, made a formidable
increase in the ordnance before Delhi. As the name implies, the guns
were larger, and carried shot and shell more weighty, than those used in
battles and skirmishes; their main purpose being to make breaches in the
defence-works of the city, through which infantry might enter and
capture the place. Sir John Lawrence had been able to collect in the
Punjaub, and send to Delhi from Ferozpore, a train of about thirty heavy
pieces of artillery, consisting of guns, howitzers, and mortars of large
calibre. The difficulty was not to obtain the guns, but to secure and to
forward men to escort them, animals to draw them, ammunition to serve
them, carriages to convey the auxiliary stores, food and camp-equipage
for the men, fodder for the animals—whether horses, oxen, camels, or
elephants. Such was the disturbed state of India at that time, that
Lawrence had not been able to send this reinforcement until September;
and even then, all his skill, influence, and energy, were required to
surmount the numerous difficulties. About the same time there arrived in
camp a Belooch battalion from Kurachee, the 4th Punjaub infantry, the
Patan Irregular Horse, and reinforcements to H.M. 8th, 24th, 52d, and
60th regiments. The siege-army now reached an aggregate of about 9000
men of all arms, effectives and non-effectives, including gun-lascars,
syce-drivers, Punjaubee Sappers and Miners, native infantry recruits,
and other men not comprised in regular regiments. There were also near
the camp or on their march to it, numerous troops belonging to the
Cashmere, Jheend, and Putialah Contingents. Out of the total number of
troops of all kinds, Wilson hoped to be enabled to find 9000 effective
infantry to make an assault on the city after a bombardment. To what
extent this hope was realised, we shall see presently.
It is important to bear clearly in mind the relative positions of the
besiegers and the besieged, the siege-camp and the fortified city, at
that time. Let it not be forgotten that the British position before
Delhi, from the early days of June to those of September, was purely a
defensive one. The besiegers could neither invest the city nor batter
down its walls; the troops being too few for the first of these
enterprises, and the guns too weak for the second; while an assault,
though twice intended, was not attempted, because there was no force
sufficient to hold the city, even if it were captured. The position on
the north of the city, from Metcalfe House to the Subzee Mundee, was the
only one which they could successfully maintain. Nevertheless, though
limited to that one side, it was invaluable, because it enabled the
British to keep open a road of communication with the northwest, whence
all supplies must necessarily be obtained. The English public, grieved
and irritated by the astounding news from India, often reproached
Barnard and Wilson for their delay in ‘taking Delhi;’ and many of the
officers and soldiers on the spot longed for some dashing movement that
would restore British prestige, and give them their hour of revenge
against the mutineers. Subsequent experience, however, has gone far to
prove that the generals were right. The grounds for so thinking have
been thus set forth by an artillery-officer whose account of the siege
has found a place among the Blue-books: ‘Whether the city might or might
not have been carried by a _coup de main_, as was contemplated first in
June and afterwards in July, it is needless now to inquire; but judging
from the resistance we afterwards experienced in the actual assault,
when we had been greatly reinforced in men and guns, it appears to me
fortunate the attempt was not made. The strength of the place was never
supposed to consist in the strength of its actual defences, though these
were much undervalued; but every city, even without fortifications, is,
from its very nature, strongly defensible, unless it can be effectually
surrounded or bombarded. Moreover, within Delhi, the enemy possessed a
magazine containing upwards of two hundred guns, and an almost
inexhaustible supply of ammunition; while their numbers were certainly
never less than double those of the besiegers.’ But, more than this,
Delhi was not so weak a place as public opinion in England at that time
represented it to be. The numerous bastions presented regular faces and
flanks of masonry, with properly cut embrasures. The portions of wall or
curtain between the bastions were twenty-four feet high, two-thirds of
the height being twelve feet thick, and the remainder near the top being
a parapet three feet in thickness. Outside the wall was a broad beam or
ledge, screened by a parapet as a place for musketeers; below the beam
was a ditch, sixteen feet deep by twenty feet wide at the bottom, with
well-constructed escarp and counterscarp; and a good sloping glacis,
descending from the outer edge of the ditch, covered nearly half the
height of the wall from all assaults by distant batteries. Captain
Norman, who was present during the whole of the siege as assistant
adjutant-general, and who wrote a very lucid semi-official account of
the siege-operations, fully corroborates this statement of the strength
of the position.
As a memento of a remarkable event in the military history of India, it
may be acceptable to present here a detailed list of all the troops
constituting the siege-army of Delhi in the second week of September,
when the assault was about to be made. The number, it will be seen, was
9866,[87] besides ‘unarmed and undisciplined pioneers,’ of whom no
enumeration was given. These, it must be remembered, were all
_effective_ troops, and did not include those who were disabled by
wounds or sickness. It should also be observed, that the Cashmere,
Jheend, and Putialah Contingents find no place in this list; they were
scarcely mentioned by General Wilson in his dispatches, although from
other sources of information they seem to have reached nearly three
thousand in number. Why the general and his staff should have had to
make the entry ‘strength unknown,’ in reference to them, does not
clearly appear. Concerning the other or more important elements of the
army, many of the regiments were represented only by detachments or
wings in the camp, the rest being at other places; but all that need be
noted in the list is the exact number of men. Glancing over this list,
it is impossible to avoid being struck with the fact how nearly the
Oudian or Hindustani element is excluded from it. There are Europeans,
Goorkhas, Sikhs, Punjaubees, Beloochees, and mountaineers from the
Afghan frontier; but the only entry referring clearly to the Bengal
native army is that of 78 men of the 4th irregular cavalry, and these
appear in the unsoldierlike condition, ‘disarmed and unhorsed.’ The
horse-artillery were frequently referred to in dispatches by the names
of the officers in command—such as Tombs’, Turner’s, Renny’s, and
Remington’s troops; while two light field-batteries were named after
Scott and Bourchier. There were also several companies of foot-artillery
serving with the siege-guns, which altogether numbered more than sixty
heavy pieces of ordnance of various kinds. It has been said above that
the list of 9866 excluded sick and wounded; these latter numbered at
that time no less than 3074; therefore the total of all ranks and all
degrees of efficiency nearly reached 13,000 men, even excluding the
unenumerated pioneers and contingents. In five regiments alone there
were 1300 men sick and wounded, almost equalling in number those in an
effective state; the 52d royal regiment and the Sirmoor battalion
exhibited a greater number on the sick-list than on that of the
effectives.
Now commenced those operations of siege-warfare which depend more on
engineers and artillerymen than on infantry and cavalry—the arrangements
for bringing near the city guns numerous and powerful enough to batter
the walls. All hands were busy. The engineers and their assistants had
made 10,000 fascines, 10,000 gabions, and 100,000 sand-bags;
field-magazines, scaling-ladders, and spare platforms had been made in
great number. The north side of the city being that which was to be
assaulted, it was resolved to maintain the right of the position
strongly against the enemy, while the main attack was pushed on the
left—first, because the river would protect the left flank of the
advancing columns; and, secondly, because the troops would find
themselves in comparatively open ground in that part after a successful
assault, instead of being cooped up in narrow and fiercely defended
streets. One of the subsidiary measures taken was to form a trench to
the left of the Samee, and to construct at the end of it a battery for
four guns and two large howitzers. This Samee, better known to the
soldiers as the Sammy House, was an old temple, situated some way down
the slope of the ridge towards the city, and about half a mile distant
from the Moree Bastion; it had for some weeks been held by the British.
The purpose of this newly constructed Samee Battery was to prevent
sorties from the Lahore or Cabool Gates passing round the city wall to
annoy the breaching-batteries, and also to assist in keeping down the
fire of the Moree Bastion. The three main works on the north side of the
city were the Moree, Cashmere, and Water Bastions—all of which had been
strengthened by the British authorities some years before, when no one
dreamed that those strengthenings would be a disaster to the power which
ordered them to be effected.
It was on the 7th of September that the besiegers began to render
visible those works which pertain especially to the storming of a
fortified post. Until then, there had been few or no trenches,
parallels, or zigzags, intended to enable the besiegers to approach near
the beleaguered city, preparatory to a forcible entry. On that night,
however, a working-party was sent out to establish two batteries about
seven hundred yards distant from the Moree Bastion. The sappers,
attacked by the enemy and defended by infantry, prosecuted their work
amid the peril which always surrounds that species of military labour.
One battery, on the left, of four 24-pounders, was intended to hold the
Cashmere Bastion partially in check; while the other, of five
18-pounders and one 8-inch howitzer, was to silence the Moree Bastion,
and prevent it interfering with the attack on the left. A trench was
made to connect the two batteries, and extending beyond them a little to
the right and left, so as to communicate with a wide and deep ravine
which, extending very nearly up to the left attack, formed a sort of
first parallel, affording good cover to the guard of the trenches. All
this was completed during the night or by the forenoon of the 8th; and
the two portions, with the trench connecting them, became known as
Brind’s Battery, named after the officer who worked it.
At dusk on the evening of the 8th, a second working-party set forth, to
construct a battery to be called ‘No. 2.’ The enemy, influenced by an
opinion that the attack would be made on the right, had neglected the
ground at and near Ludlow Castle, a house situated barely seven hundred
yards from the Cashmere Gate. The British engineers, taking advantage of
this neglect, seized the position, occupied it with a strong detachment,
and employed the nights of the 9th and 10th in constructing a battery
upon it. The enemy, alarmed at this near approach, kept up a fierce
cannonade from the Cashmere and Water Bastions and from the Selimgurh;
but the besiegers had made their approach so carefully, that few of them
suffered. This battery, like Brind’s, was in two portions; one,
immediately in front of Ludlow Castle, for nine 24-pounders, was
intended to breach the wall between the Cashmere and Water Bastions, and
to render the parapet untenable by musketeers; the other, two hundred
yards further to the right, for seven 8-inch howitzers and two
18-pounders, was to aid in attaining the same objects. The ‘No. 2’
Battery, from its magnitude, and the important duty assigned to it, was
placed under the control of two officers; Major Kaye commanded the right
position; while the left was intrusted to Major Campbell, who, being
wounded soon afterwards, was succeeded by Captain Johnson.
[Illustration:
Jumana Musjid at Delhi. From a Photograph.
]
Still further was the powerful machinery for attack carried. On the
night of the 10th, Battery No. 3 was commenced, within two hundred yards
of the Water Bastion, behind a small ruined house in the custom-house
compound; it was bold and hazardous work to construct a battery in such
a spot, for the enemy kept up a destructive fire of musketry the whole
time. The object of No. 3, when mounted with six 18-pounders, was to
open a second breach in the Water Bastion. Battery No. 4 was in like
manner constructed during the nights of the 10th and 11th, at the
Koodseebagh near Ludlow Castle; it was mounted with ten heavy mortars,
placed under the charge of Major Tombs. Later in the siege a battery of
light mortars was worked by Captain Blunt from the rear of the
custom-house. To enable the whole of the siege-batteries to be armed,
most of the heavy guns were withdrawn from the ridge, leaving only a few
that were necessary to defend it from any attacks made by the enemy from
the Kissengunje and Subzee Mundee quarters. There being a deficiency of
foot-artillerymen to man the heavy guns and mortars, nearly all the
officers and men of the horse-artillery quitted the duties to which they
more especially belonged, and worked in the batteries during the
bombardment; as did likewise many volunteers from the British cavalry,
who were eager to take part in the fray. Even the infantry regiments
furnished volunteers from among the officers, who practised at the
ridge-batteries for many days before the breaching-batteries opened
their fire, when they transferred their services to the latter. The
newly raised Sikh artillerymen, proud to share the dangers and emulate
the courage of the British, were intrusted with the working of two of
the great guns, a duty which they afterwards performed to admiration.
It thus appears that the works at the newly constructed
breaching-batteries bristled with forty-four heavy pieces of ordnance,
besides guns of lighter weight and smaller calibre at more distant
points. The murderous conflict could not much longer be delayed. The
besieged knew well the danger impending over them, and made arrangements
for a desperate resistance. No sooner did Brind’s Battery open fire on
the 8th than the enemy made a sortie from the city, principally of
cavalry; but they were soon driven in by the artillery. From the broken
ground below the ridge, and from a trench in front of the battery, they
kept up a constant fire of musketry; grape-shot had to be used against
them, from a light gun-battery near the Samee House. In like manner,
during the construction of the remaining breaching-batteries, the enemy
kept up a fierce and continuous fire from every available point, causing
great loss to the besiegers—not only among the fighting-men, but among
the natives employed as porters, magazine lascars, ordnance-drivers, &c.
The enemy went to work on the night of the 11th, and constructed an
advanced trench parallel to the British left attack, three or four
hundred yards distant from it; and from this they opened a very hot fire
of musketry. They also got some light guns, and one of heavier calibre,
into the open ground on the right of the siege-position, from which they
maintained an annoying enfilade fire. At the Custom-house Battery,
within two hundred yards of the city, the British were continually
assailed with a storm of bullets, which rendered their passage to and
from the spot extremely perilous. On more than one occasion, before
Battery No. 2 was finished, the mutineers sallied out from the Cashmere
Gate, and poured forth a volley of musketry at that spot; and it
required a very strong guard of infantry to protect the battery from a
closer attack. Some of the enemy’s guns, planted to enfilade the
batteries Nos. 1 and 2, were so sheltered that the ordnance on the ridge
and at the Samee House were never able effectually to silence them. From
another quarter, the Selimgurh or old fort, a constant fire of shells
was kept up, so skilfully pointed as to drop with perilous accuracy upon
three of the breaching-batteries. During the actual progress of the
bombardment and assault, only one attempt was made by the enemy to annoy
the besiegers in the rear; a body of horse crossed the canal at Azadpore
(at the junction of the two roads leading from the city and the
cantonment), drove in a picket of irregular horse, and created some
confusion; but parties of Punjaub and Guide cavalry, quickly arriving at
the spot, checked, pursued, and dispersed the intruders.
Now commenced the fearful thunder of a cannonading. The engineers having
finished their work, handed it over to the artillerymen, who collected
around them vast stores of shot and shell. It was on the 11th of
September that the British siege-guns may be said to have opened their
systematic fire, although some had been already tested, and others were
not quite ready. The nine 24-pounders, in Major Campbell’s No. 2
Battery, ‘opened the ball,’ to use the language of one of the engineers,
and soon shewed their tremendous power in bringing down huge pieces of
the wall near the Cashmere Bastion. The enemy’s guns on that bastion
attempted to reply, but were soon knocked over, and the bastion itself
rendered untenable. The work was hot on the 11th, but much hotter on the
12th, when Battery No. 3 opened its fire, and upwards of forty ponderous
pieces of ordnance belched forth ruin and slaughter on the devoted city.
All that night, all the next day and night, until the morning of the
14th, did this cannonading continue, with scarcely an interval of
silence. Soldiers like to be met in soldierly fashion, even if they
suffer by it. The British did not fail to give a word of praise to the
enemy; who, though unable to work a gun from any of the three bastions
that were so fiercely assailed, stuck to their artillery in the open
ground which enfiladed the right attack; they got a gun to bear through
one of the holes breached in the wall; they sent rockets from one of
their martello towers; and they poured forth a torrent of musketry from
their advanced trench and from the city walls. Throughout the warlike
operations here and elsewhere, the enemy were more effective in
artillery than in infantry, and less in cavalry than in either of the
other two.
When the great day arrived—the day with which hopes and fears, anxieties
and responsibilities, had been so long associated—General Wilson made
arrangements for the final assault. The plan of operations was dependent
on the state to which the breaching-batteries had brought the
defence-works of the city during two or three days’ bombarding, by the
engineers under Colonel Baird Smith, and the artillery under Major
Gaitskell. It was known that the force of shot and shell poured against
the place had made breaches near the Cashmere and Water Bastions,
destroyed the defences of those bastions, and knocked down the parapets
which had afforded shelter to the enemy’s musketeers; but wishing to
ascertain the exact state of matters, the general, on the night of the
13th, sent down Lieutenants Medley and Lang on the dangerous duty of
examining the breach made in the city wall near the Cashmere Bastion;
while Lieutenants Greathed and Home made a similar examination of the
breach near the Water Bastion. These officers having announced that both
breaches were practicable for the entrance of storming-parties, the
general resolved that the next day, the 14th of September, should be
signalised by a storming of the great Mogul stronghold. He marshalled
his forces into columns,[88] the exact components of which it will be
interesting to record here; and to each column he prescribed a
particular line of duty. The 1st column, of 1000 men, was to assault the
main breach, and escalade the face of the Cashmere Bastion, after the
heavy siege-guns had finished their destructive work; it was to be
covered by a detachment of H.M. 60th Rifles. The 2d column, of 850 men,
similarly covered by a body of Rifles, was to advance on the Water
Bastion and carry the breach. The 3d column, of 950 men, was to be
directed against the Cashmere Gate, preceded by an explosion-party of
engineers under Lieutenants Home and Salkeld, and covered by a party of
Rifles. The 4th column (strength unrecorded) was to assail the enemy’s
strong position in the Kissengunje and Pahareepore suburbs, with a view
both of driving in the rebels, and of supporting the main attack by
forcing an entrance at the Cabool Gate; for this duty a miscellaneous
body of troops, almost wholly native, was told off. In addition to the
four columns, there was a reserve of 1300 men, covered by Rifles, which
was to await the result of the main attack, and take possession of
certain posts as soon as the columns entered the place. No more troops
were left at camp than were absolutely necessary for its protection; a
few convalescents of the infantry, and a few troopers and
horse-artillery, were all that could be spared for this duty. Nearly all
the pickets were handed over to the cavalry to guard. Arrangements were,
however, made to send back a force as speedily as possible to the camp
to guard the sick, wounded, stores, &c., which naturally became objects
of much solicitude to the general at such a time. Brigadier Grant, with
the bulk of the cavalry and some horse-artillery, moved down to the
vicinity of No. 1 Battery, to check any attempt that might be made by
the enemy, after a sortie from the Lahore or Ajmeer Gates, to attack the
storming columns in flank.
The night which closed in the 13th and opened the 14th of September was
not one to be soon forgotten by the soldiers of the siege-army. Few of
them, officers or men, slept much; their thoughts were too intensely
directed towards the stern realities of the morrow, which would end the
career of so many among their number. At four o’clock on the morning of
the 14th, the different columns set forth on their march from the camp
to their respective places. The first three columns were, according to
the programme just cited, to engage in the actual assault on the
northern side of the city; the heads of those columns were to be kept
concealed until the moment for assault had arrived; and the signal for
that crisis was to be, the advance of the Rifles to the front, to act as
skirmishers.
Brigadier Nicholson took the lead. He gave the signal; the Rifles rushed
to the front with a cheer, and skirmished along through the low jungle
which extended to within fifty yards of the ditch. The 1st and 2d
columns, under himself and Brigadier Jones, emerged from behind the
Koodseebagh, and advanced steadily towards the breached portions of the
wall. Up to this time the enemy’s guns had wrought little mischief on
the columns; but as soon as the latter emerged into the open ground, a
perfect storm of bullets met them from the front and both flanks;
officers and men were falling fast on the glacis; and for several
minutes it was impossible to get the ladders placed for a descent into
the ditch and an ascent of the escarp. After a fierce struggle, the
British bayonet, as usual, won the day; the troops dashed through and
over all obstacles, and entered the city through the breaches which the
guns had previously made in the walls. Now within the boundary of the
imperial city, the two brigadiers at once turned to the right, proceeded
along the ramparts, fought the sepoys inch by inch, overcame all
opposition, and captured in succession a small battery, a tower between
the Cashmere and Moree Bastions, the Moree itself, and the Cabool Gate;
but the vigorous attempts they made to take the Burn Bastion and the
Lahore Gate failed, so determined was the resistance opposed to them,
and so terrible the loss they suffered in officers and men. It was in
one of the many attacks on the Lahore Gate, when the troops had to
advance along a narrow lane swept by the enemy’s grape-shot and
musketry, that the bullet was fired which laid low the gallant
Nicholson—an officer in whom the whole army had reposed a full and deep
reliance. As far as the Cabool Gate, the two columns were enabled to
maintain their conquests; and they immediately made preparations for
opening fire from the bastions inwards upon the yet unconquered
buildings of the city—a sand-bag parapet being constructed across the
gorge or open rear of each bastion.
We have now to see what was transpiring in another quarter, on this
morning of heroism and slaughter. While the 1st column was engaged in
forcing an entrance through the breach near the Cashmere Bastion, and
the 2d column a similar entrance through that near the Water Bastion,
the 3d directed its operations against the Cashmere Gate—through which,
it will be remembered, the troops of that column were to rush after an
explosion-party had blown in the gate itself. If there be any sublimity
in bloody warfare, it is manifested in the self-devotion with which a
soldier marches steadfastly to a position where he knows that death will
be almost certain and immediate. Such self-devotion was shewn by the
little band of heroes forming this explosion-party. They had to advance
in broad daylight to the gate, amid a storm of bullets from above, from
both flanks, and from a wicket in the gate itself; they had carefully to
lay down and adjust the bags of gunpowder close to the gate, to arrange
a train or fuse, to fire the bags, and to take their chance of being
themselves blown up by the explosion. The gallant men intrusted with
this dangerous duty were divided into two parties—an advanced and a
firing party. The first consisted of an engineer officer, Lieutenant
Home, two non-commissioned officers, Sergeants Smith and Carmichael, and
a few native sappers, who carried the powder-bags. The firing-party
consisted of Lieutenant Salkeld, Corporal Burgess, and a few native
sappers. Owing to some delay, the two parties did not set out for their
rendezvous at Ludlow Castle until broad daylight, and then they had to
encounter a heavy fire of musketry all the way. When the advanced party
reached the gate—a heavy wooden structure, flanked by massive walls—they
found that a part of the drawbridge over the ditch had been destroyed;
but, passing across the precarious footing afforded by the remaining
beams, they proceeded to lodge their powder-bags against the gate. The
wicket was open, and through it the enemy kept up a heavy fire. Sergeant
Carmichael, and a native sapper named Madhoo, were killed while laying
the bags; but Lieutenant Home only received a blow from a stone thrown
up by a bullet. The perilous duty of laying the bags being completed,
the advanced party slipped down into the ditch, to make room for the
firing-party, which then advanced. ‘Lieutenant Salkeld,’ said Colonel
Baird Smith, in his report of the engineering operations of the day,
‘while endeavouring to fire the charge, was shot through the arm and
leg, and handed over the slow match to Corporal Burgess, who fell
mortally wounded just as he had successfully accomplished the onerous
duty. Havildar Tilluh Singh, of the Sikhs, was wounded, and Ramloll
Sepoy of the same corps, was killed during this part of the operation.
The demolition being most successful, Lieutenant Home, happily not
wounded, caused the bugler (Hawthorne) to sound the regimental call of
the 52d, as the signal for the advancing columns. Fearing that amid the
noise of the assault the sounds might not be heard, he had the call
repeated three times, when the troops advanced and carried the gateway
with complete success.’ Sergeant Smith had a narrow escape from being
blown up. Seeing Burgess fall, and not knowing the exact result of the
gallant fellow’s efforts to fire the train, he ran forward; but seeing
the train alight, he had just time to throw himself into the ditch
before the explosion took place. The perilous nature of this kind of
duty gave rise to a correspondence in the public journals, from which a
few lines may not unsuitably be given in a note.[89]
Colonel Campbell, with the 3d column, after the heroic explosion-party
had forced an entry for him through the Cashmere Gate, marched boldly
through the city towards the Jumma Musjid—a perilous enterprise; for the
distance was upwards of a mile even in a straight line, and many
populous streets would need to be traversed. In this march he was aided
by Sir Theophilus Metcalfe, a member of the Company’s civil service,
whose house outside Delhi has been so often mentioned, and who had been
a valuable adviser to the siege-army during the whole period of its
operations on the ridge. He knew Delhi well, and was thus enabled to
render Campbell essential service. Conducting the column by a circuitous
route, he kept it nearly free from opposition until the fine street,
called the Chandnee Chowk, was reached, where they took possession of
the Kotwallee. At this point, however, the troops began to fall rapidly
under the muskets of the enemy, and it was found to be impracticable to
achieve the object fondly hoped—the capture of the Jumma Musjid itself.
After a gallant struggle, the column fell back to the neighbourhood of
the English church near the Cashmere Gate, where it had the support of
the reserve. The colonel at once placed the 52d regiment in the church,
the Kumaon battalion in Skinner’s house, and the Punjaub infantry in the
houses at the junction of two streets that led from the centre of the
city to the open space around the church. Guns, too, were posted at the
last-named place, to check the advance of insurgents who had begun to
treat Campbell as a fleeing and defeated officer. He was in one sense
defeated; for he had to retreat nearly a mile, and saw his fine troops
cut up terribly all around him; nevertheless, before nightfall he had
placed himself in a position from which the enemy could not dislodge
him, and which enabled him to take a prominent part in the subsequent
operations.
[Illustration:
CORPORAL BURGESS, blown up at Cashmere Gate.
]
Rather as a support to Colonel Campbell’s 3d column, than as a leading
corps, the reserve now comes for notice—its position being indeed
denoted by its name. This reserve column, under Brigadier Longfield,
had, it will be remembered, the duty of watching the result of the main
attack, and of taking possession of certain posts as soon as the other
columns had effected an entry into the city. The reserve followed the 3d
column through the Cashmere Gate, having previously spared the Belooch
battalion to render service near Hindoo Rao’s house. Longfield at once
cleared the college gardens of insurgents, and then told off his troops
so as to obtain efficient hold of the Water Bastion, the Cashmere Gate,
Skinner’s house, and a large commanding building called Ahmed Ali Khan’s
house. Skinner’s house, or in Indian form, Sikunder’s, had at one time
been the residence of Major Skinner, commander of a regiment of
irregular horse, which had acquired much celebrity; the house was large,
and presented many important advantages for a military force.
There is yet another portion of the siege-army, whose fortune on this
14th of September has to be noticed—namely, that which was placed under
the command of Major Reid, for a series of operations in the western
suburbs of the city. Everything here was under a cloud of
disappointment; the operations were not attended with that degree of
success which the officers and men had fondly hoped. Captain Dwyer, in
command of the Cashmere field-force, was intrusted with the management
of 400 men of that force, and four guns; and the object he was to
endeavour to attain was the safe occupation of the Eedghah Serai, in
dangerous proximity to the garrison within the city. Early in the
morning he set out from the camp. Finding the road very difficult for
artillery, he pulled down a portion of stone-wall to enable his guns to
get upon the Rohtuk high road; the noise unfortunately attracted the
enemy, who immediately sent down 2000 men to that point. Dwyer kept up a
fire of artillery for three quarters of an hour; but finding that the
enemy, instead of being discomfited, were about to outflank him, he
resolved on a bold advance on the Eedghah. This resolve he could not
carry out; his troops were widely spread in skirmishing order, and could
not be collected in column; the guns could not be properly moved, for
the grass-cutters had taken away the horses. In short, the attempt was a
total failure, and the captain was compelled to retire without his guns.
The force appears to have been too small, and the Cashmerian troops
scarcely equal in soldierly discipline to the demands of the work
intrusted to them. This attack on the Eedghah was to have been part of a
larger enterprise intrusted to Major Reid, having in view the conquest
of the whole western suburb of Delhi, and the command of all outlets by
the western gates. The major advanced from the Subzee Mundee towards the
Kissengunje suburb; but he found the enemy so numerous and strongly
posted, and he met with such a strenuous opposition, that his progress
was soon checked. The gallant Reid himself being struck down wounded, as
well as many other officers, Captain Muter of the 60th Rifles, and
Captain R. C. Lawrence, political agent with the Cashmere Contingent,
felt it necessary promptly to decide on the course best to be pursued.
They found the different detachments, of which the column consisted, so
broken and disorganised by the heavy fire of the enemy, that it was
impossible to reform them on broken ground, and under a severe fire the
attack on the Kissengunje could not be renewed; all they attempted was
to keep the enemy in check for an hour, without losing ground. They
waited for a reinforcement of artillery, which Reid had sent for before
being wounded; but these guns, through some unexplained cause, failed to
arrive. Seeing the enemy increase in force, and fearing for the safety
of the batteries below Hindoo Rao’s house, the officers gave up the
attack and retired, strengthening the batteries and the Subzee Mundee
picket. The failure of Captain Dwyer’s attack greatly increased the
difficulty of the position; for the enemy was thereby enabled to advance
on the right flank of the main column, endanger its rear, and hotly
press the Subzee Mundee picket. Reid, Lawrence, Dwyer, Muter—all were
mortified at their failure in this suburban operation.
Thus ended the 14th of September, a day on which British authority was
partially restored in the ‘city of the Moguls,’ after an interregnum of
eighteen weeks. Partial, indeed, was the reconquest; for the portion of
the city held bore so small a ratio to the whole, that the troops
foresaw a terrible and sanguinary ordeal to be gone through before the
British flag would again wave undisputed over the conquered city. The
loss was very large, in relation to the strength of the army generally.
There fell on this one day, 8 British officers, 162 British troops, and
103 native troops, killed; while the list of wounded comprised 52
British officers, 512 British troops, and 310 native troops—a total of
1135. When night closed around the survivors, the 1st and 2d columns
held all the towers, bastions, and ramparts from the vicinity of the
Cashmere Gate to the Cabool Gate; the 3d column and the reserve held the
Cashmere Gate, the English church, Skinner’s house, the Water Bastion,
Ahmed Ali Khan’s house, the college gardens, and many buildings and open
spots in that part of Delhi; while the 4th column, defeated in the
western suburbs, had retreated to the camp or the ridge.
Snatching a little occasional repose during the night, the besiegers
found themselves at dawn on the 15th, as we have said, masters of a
_part_ only of Delhi; and they prepared for the stern work before them.
They dragged several mortars into position, at various points between
the Cashmere and Cabool Gates, to shell the heart of the city and the
imperial palace. A battery, commanding the Selimgurh and a part of the
palace, was also established in the college gardens; and several houses
were taken and armed in advance or further to the south. The enemy,
meanwhile, kept up a vigorous fire from the Selimgurh and the magazine
upon the positions occupied by the British, and skirmishing went on at
all the advanced posts. This, be it understood, was within the city
itself; the British being in command of a strip of ground and buildings
just within the northern wall; while all the rest was still in the hands
of the rebels. It was in every way a strange position for an army to
occupy; the city was filled with hostile soldiery, who had the command
of an immense array of guns and a vast store of ammunition, and whose
musketry told with fatal effect from loopholed walls and houses in all
the streets within reach; while the besiegers themselves were separated
by a lofty city wall from their own camp.
The 16th was marked by a greater progress than the 15th towards a
conquest of the city, because the newly established batteries began to
shew signs of work. The guns in the college garden having effected a
breach in the magazine defences, that important building was stormed and
taken, with a loss comparatively slight, by the 61st, the 4th Punjaub,
and the Beloochees.[90] Outside the city, the Kissengunje suburb was
this day evacuated by the enemy, leaving five guns, which were speedily
captured by a detachment sent down from Hindoo Rao’s house; it was then
found that the enemy’s position here had been one of immense strength,
and the failure of Major Reid’s attack received a ready explanation.
Another day dawned, and witnessed the commencement of operations which
placed a further portion of the city in the hands of the conquerors. The
magazine having been captured, it became important to secure the whole
line of rampart and forts from that point to the Cabool Gate, comprising
the northeast as well as the north sides of the city. This was begun on
the 17th, and completed on the 18th, giving to the British a firm hold
of everything behind a straight line extending from the magazine to the
Cabool Gate. A bold advance southward could now be made. Columns were
sent forth, which captured the Delhi bank, Major Abbott’s house, and the
house of Khan Mohammed Khan, and made a near approach to the palace and
the Chandnee Chowk. The pen can easily record this, but it must leave to
the imagination of the reader to conceive how great must have been the
peril of soldiers thus advancing inch by inch through a crowded city;
field-artillery was brought to bear against them from almost every
street, muskets from almost every house-top and window; and many a
gallant fellow was laid low. One great advantage the besiegers now had,
was in the command of mortars brought out from the magazine; these were
placed in selected positions, and employed to shell the palace and the
quarters of the town occupied by the enemy. It was now that the
insurgents were seen to be gradually escaping from the palace into the
southern parts of the city, and thence through the southern gates into
open country not yet attacked by the British. Over the bridge of boats
they could not go, for the guns of the conquerors commanded it. Or, it
may more correctly be said, the command of the bridge of boats enabled
the conquerors to check that passage if they chose; but General Wilson
did not make war on women and children, or on such males as appeared to
be peaceful citizens: he allowed them to depart from the city if they
wished—which nearly all did, for they feared terrible retribution at the
hands of the British soldiery.
After another night within the imperial city, the conquerors achieved
further successes on the 19th. The post called the Burn Bastion,
situated on the west side of the city, close to the Lahore Gate, was
surprised and captured by a detachment sent from the already conquered
Cabool Gate. This swept the enemy from another large extent of wall. On
the following morning a detachment of cavalry, going from the ridge by
way of the Kissengunje and the Eedghah, found that the enemy had
evacuated a large and strong camp long occupied by them outside the
Delhi Gate. Lieutenant Hodson at once took possession of it; and a mere
glance shewed, by the quantities of clothing, plunder, and ammunition
lying around, that the enemy must have made a very precipitate flight.
The cavalry, entering the city by the Delhi Gate—which, together with
the Gurstin Bastion, had just been attacked and taken by the infantry,
galloped on to the sumptuous Jumma Musjid, of which they took
possession, being speedily supported by infantry and guns. While all
this was going on, the imperial palace was the object of a distinct
attack. A column advanced along the Chandnee Chowk, placed powder-bags
against the gate, blew it in, and entered the palace. The enormous
building was found to be deserted by all but a few fanatics and numerous
wounded sepoys.
Thus at length was the great city of Delhi reconquered by its former
masters; thus again did the Feringhee become paramount over the Mogul.
Captain Norman, whose semi-official account of the siege has already
been adverted to, closed his narrative by saying: ‘It is impossible to
conclude without alluding to the trials and constancy of the troops
employed in this arduous siege. Called on at the hottest season of the
year to take the field, imperfectly equipped, and with the extent of
difficulties to be faced very imperfectly known, all felt that a crisis
had arrived, to meet which every man’s cheerful, willing, and heartfelt
energies must be put forth to the utmost; and how well this was done,
those who were with the army know and can never forget. For the first
five weeks every effort was required, not indeed to take Delhi, but even
to hold our own position; and day after day, for hours together, every
soldier was under arms under a burning sun, and constantly exposed to
fire. Notwithstanding the daily casualties in action, the numerous
deaths by cholera, the discouraging reports relative to the fidelity of
some of the native portions of our own force, the distressing accounts
from all parts of the country, the constant arrival of large
reinforcements of mutineers, and the apparent impossibility of aid ever
reaching in sufficient strength to enable us to take the place—the
courage and confidence of the army never flagged. And, besides enduring
a constant and often deadly cannonade, for more than three months, in
thirty different combats, our troops invariably were successful, always
against long odds, and often opposed to ten times their numbers, who had
all the advantages of ground and superior artillery.’
Taking the 30th of May as the date when the first conflict between the
besiegers and defenders of Delhi took place, at some distance from Delhi
itself, the interval of 113 days between that date and the final capture
on the 20th of September was marked by a very large death-list. It could
not be otherwise. Where men were exposed during so many days and nights
to shells, balls, bullets, swords, heat, swamps, fatigue, and disease,
the hand of the destroyer must indeed have been heavy. And, as in all
similar instances, the list of wounded was much larger than that of
killed. The official list comprised the names of 46 European officers
who had either been killed in battle, or died from wounds received; and
of 140 others whose wounds had not proved fatal. But the
adjutant-general is seldom accustomed to comprise in his lists those who
fall with disease without being wounded; and thus the Delhi enumeration
did not include the names of Generals Anson and Barnard, or of any of
the numerous officers, who, though not wounded before Delhi,
unquestionably met their death in connection with the preparations for,
or conduct of, the siege. Distributed under different headings, the
killed and wounded amounted altogether to 3807,[91] to which were added
30 missing. Of the horses there were 186 killed and 378 wounded. Of the
number of insurgents who fell during the struggle, no authentic
knowledge could be obtained.
The official dispatches were nearly silent concerning the proceedings,
except military, in the interval of six days between the first assault
of the city and the final subjugation, and during the remaining ten days
of September. General Wilson, shortly before the final attack was to be
made, issued an address to his soldiers, from which a few sentences are
here given in a note;[92] and in which, it will be seen, they were
instructed to give no quarter to the mutineers—that is, make no
prisoners, but put all armed rebels to death. This was attended to; but
something more was done, something darker and less justifiable. It is
not customary for soldiers to stab wounded and sick men in an enemy’s
army; but such was done at Delhi. The sense of hatred towards the
mutinous sepoys was so intense, the recollection of the atrocities at
Cawnpore was so vivid, that vengeance took place of every other feeling.
The troops did that which they would have scorned to do against the
Russians in the Crimean war—they bayoneted men no longer capable of
resistance. They refused to consider the rules of honourable warfare
applicable to black-hearted traitors; their officers joined them in this
refusal; and their general’s address justified them up to a certain
point. If the rule laid down by Wilson had been strictly adhered to,
there would have been military precedence to sanction it; but the common
soldiers did not discriminate in their passion; and many a dark-skinned
inhabitant of Delhi fell under the bayonet, against whom no charge of
complicity with the mutineers could be proved. The letters written home
to friends in England, soon after the battle, and made public,
abundantly prove this; the soldiers were thirsting for vengeance, and
they slaked their thirst. Many of the villagers of India, indeed, bore
cruel injustice during that extraordinary period. Instances frequently
came to light, such as the following: A revolted regiment or a predatory
band would enter a village, demand and obtain money, food, and other
supplies by threats of vengeance if the demand were not complied with,
and then depart; an English corps, entering soon afterwards, would fine
and punish the villagers for having aided the enemy. One thing, however,
the British soldiers did _not_ do; they did not murder women and
children. This humanity, heroism, justice, or whatever it may best be
called, was more than the natives generally expected: the leaders in the
revolt had sedulously disseminated a rumour that the British would abuse
all the women, and murder them and their children, in all towns and
stations where mutinies had taken place; and under the influence of this
belief, many of the natives put their wives to death rather than expose
them to the apprehended indignities. While, at one part of Delhi, the
conquerors (if the narrators are to be believed) found Christian women
_crucified_ against the walls in the streets; at another part, nearly
twenty native women were found lying side by side with their throats
cut, their husbands having put them to death to prevent them from
falling into the hands of the conquerors.
What other scenes of wild licence took place within Delhi during those
excited days, we may infer from collateral evidence. The mutineers,
quite as much in love with plunder as with nationality, had been wont to
carry about with them from place to place the _loot_ which they had
gathered during the sack of the stations and towns. As a consequence,
Delhi contained temporarily an enormous amount of miscellaneous wealth;
and such of this as the fugitives could not carry away with them, was
regarded as spoil by the conquerors. There are certain rules in the
English army concerning prizes and prize-money, which the soldiers more
or less closely obey; but the Punjaubee and Goorkha allies, more
accustomed to Asiatic notions of warfare, revelled in the unbridled
freedom of their new position, and were with difficulty maintained in
discipline. There was a large store of beverage, also, in the city,
which the conquerors soon got at; and as intemperance is one of the weak
points of English soldiers, many scenes of drunkenness ensued.
But all these are among the exigencies of war. The soldiers bore up
manfully against their varied trials, fought heroically, and conquered;
and it is not by the standards of conduct familiar to quiet persons at
home that they should be judged. When General Wilson reported the result
of his hard labours, he said in his dispatch: ‘Thus has the important
duty committed to this force been accomplished, and its object attained.
Delhi, the focus of rebellion and insurrection, and the scene of so much
horrible cruelty, taken and made desolate; the king a prisoner in our
hands; and the mutineers, notwithstanding their great numerical
superiority and their vast resources in ordnance, and all the munitions
and appliances of war, defeated on every occasion of engagement with our
troops, are now driven with slaughter in confusion and dismay from their
boasted stronghold.... Little remains for me to say, but to again
express my unqualified approbation of the conduct and spirit of the
whole of the troops, not only on this occasion, but during the entire
period they have been in the field.... For four months of the most
trying season of the year this force, originally very weak in number,
has been exposed to the repeated and determined attacks of an enemy far
outnumbering it, and supported by a numerous and powerful artillery. The
duties imposed upon all have been laborious, harassing, and incessant,
and notwithstanding heavy losses, both in action and from disease, have
been at all times zealously and cheerfully performed.’ And in similar
language, when the news was known at Calcutta, did Viscount Canning
acknowledge the heroism of those who had conquered Delhi.[93]
It will be seen above that the governor-general spoke of the ‘king a
prisoner.’ This must now be explained. When all hope of retaining Delhi
faded away, the aged king—who had in effect been more a puppet in the
hands of ambitious leaders than a king, during four months—fled from the
city, as did nearly all the members and retainers of the once imperial
family. It fell to the lot of Captain (afterwards Major) Hodson to
capture the king and other royal personages. This officer was assistant
quartermaster-general, and intelligence-officer on General Wilson’s
staff. His long acquaintance as a cavalry officer with Sikhs,
Punjaubees, and Afghans had given him much knowledge of the native
character, and enabled him to obtain remarkably minute information
concerning the movements and intentions of the enemy; to insure this, he
was invested with power to reward or punish in proportion to the deserts
of those who assisted him. It was known directly the Cashmere Gate was
conquered that the exodus of the less warlike inhabitants of Delhi was
beginning; but not then, nor until six days afterwards, could this be
stopped, for the southern gates were wholly beyond reach of the
conquerors. The imperial palace was captured, and was found nearly
empty, on the 20th; and on the following day Captain Hodson learned that
the king and his family had left the city with a large force by the
Ajmeer Gate, and had gone to the Kootub, a suburban palace about nine
miles from Delhi. Hodson urged that a detachment should be sent in
pursuit, but Wilson did not think he could spare troops for this
service. While this subject was under consideration, messengers were
coming from the king, and among others Zeenat Mahal, a favourite begum,
making ridiculous offers on his part, as if he were still the power
paramount—all of which were of course rejected. As these offers could
not be accepted; as Wilson could not or would not send a detachment at
once to defeat or capture the mutinous troops who had departed with the
king; and as it was, nevertheless, desirable to have the king’s person
in safe custody—Captain Hodson received permission to promise the aged
sovereign his life, and exemption from immediate personal indignity, if
he would surrender.
Thus armed, Hodson laid his plans. He started with fifty of his own
native irregular troopers to Humayoon’s Tomb, about three miles from the
Kootub. Concealing himself and his men among some old buildings close by
the gateway of the tomb, he sent his demand up to the palace. After two
hours of anxious suspense, he received a message from the king that he
would deliver himself up to Captain Hodson only, and on condition that
he repeated with his own lips the pledge of the government for his
safety. The captain then went out into the middle of the road in front
of the gateway, and said he was ready to receive his captives and renew
the promise. ‘You may picture to yourself,’ said one familiar with the
spot, ‘the scene before that magnificent gateway, with the milk-white
domes of the tomb towering up from within, one white man among a host of
natives, yet determined to secure his prisoners or perish in the
attempt.’ After a time, a procession began to arrive from the palace.
Threats and promises soon did their work; and the king, his begum Zeenat
Mahal, and her son Jumma Bukht, were escorted to Delhi. It was a
striking manifestation of moral power; for there were hundreds or even
thousands of retainers in the procession, any one of whom could by a
shot have put an end to Hodson’s life; but he rode at the side of the
imperial palanquins, cool and undaunted, and they touched him not. As
the city was approached, the followers and bystanders slunk away, being
unwilling to confront the British troops. The captain rode on a few
paces ahead, and ordered the Lahore Gate to be opened. ‘Who have you
there in the palanquin?’ asked the officer on duty. ‘Only the King of
Delhi,’ was the reply. The guard were all enraptured, and wanted to
greet Hodson with a cheer; but he said the king would probably take the
honour to himself, which was not desirable. On they went, through the
once magnificent but now deserted Chandnee Chowk; and the daring captor,
at the gate of the palace, handed up his royal prisoners to the civil
authorities.
[Illustration:
Scene of Capture of the Princes of Delhi—Tomb of Emperor Humayoon.
]
Captain Hodson’s work was not yet finished; there were other members of
the royal family towards whom his attention was directed. Early on the
following morning, he started to avail himself of information he
obtained concerning three of the princes, who were known to have been
guilty of monstrous deeds which rendered them worthy of instant death.
He went with a hundred of his troopers to the Tomb of Humayoon, where
the princes were concealed. After accepting ‘king’s evidence,’ bribing,
threatening, and manœuvring, Hudson secured his prisoners, and sent them
off with a small escort to the city. Entering the tomb, he found it
filled with an enormous number of palace scum and city rabble, mostly
armed; but so thoroughly cowed were they by his fearless demeanour, that
they quietly obeyed his order to lay down their arms and depart. The
captain and his men then moved warily off to the city; and at a short
distance from the gate, he found the vehicle containing the princes
surrounded by a mob, who seemed disposed to resist him. What followed
must be given in the words of an officer who was in a position to obtain
accurate information. ‘This was no time for hesitation or delay. Hodson
dashed at once into the midst—in few but energetic words explained “that
these were the men who had not only rebelled against the government, but
had ordered and witnessed the massacre and shameful exposure of innocent
women and children; and that thus therefore the government punished such
traitors, taken in open resistance”—shooting them down at the word. The
effect was instantaneous and wonderful. Not another hand was raised, not
another weapon levelled, and the Mohammedans of the troop and some
influential moulvies among the bystanders exclaimed, as if by
simultaneous impulse: “Well and rightly done! Their crime has met with
its just penalty. These were they who gave the signal for the death of
helpless women and children, and outraged decency by the exposure of
their persons, and now a righteous judgment has fallen on them. God is
great!” The remaining weapons were then laid down, and the crowd slowly
and quietly dispersed. The bodies were then carried into the city, and
thrown out on the very spot where the blood of their innocent victims
still stained the earth. They remained there till the 24th, when, for
sanitary reasons, they were removed from the Chibootra in front of the
Kotwallee. The effect of this just retribution was as miraculous on the
populace as it was deserved by the criminals.’ Thus were put to death
two of the old king’s sons, Mirza Mogul Beg, and another whose name is
doubtful, together with Mirza’s son.
What was done to restore order in Delhi after its recapture; who was
appointed to command it; what arrangements were made for bringing to
justice the wretched king who was now a prisoner; and what military plan
was formed for pursuing the mutinous regiments which had escaped from
the city—will more conveniently be noticed in subsequent pages.
The country did not fail to do honour to those who had been concerned in
the conquest of the imperial city. The commander of the siege-army was
of course the first to be noticed. Although he had no European
reputation, Archdale Wilson had served as an artillery officer nearly
forty years in India. He was employed at the siege of Bhurtpore in 1824,
and in many other active services; but his chief duties confined him to
the artillery depôts. It is a curious fact that most of the guns
employed by him at the siege of Delhi, as well as those used by the
enemy against him, had been cast by him as superintendent of the
gun-foundry at Calcutta many years before, and bore his name as part of
the device. He held in succession the offices of adjutant-general of
artillery and commandant of artillery. At the commencement of the
mutiny, his regimental rank was that of lieutenant-colonel of the Bengal
artillery; but he acted as brigadier at Meerut, and was afterwards
promoted to the rank of major-general. The Queen, in November, raised
him to the baronetcy, and made him a Knight Commander of the Order of
the Bath; and thus the artillery officer had risen to the rank of
‘Major-general Sir Archdale Wilson, K.C.B.’ The East India Company, too,
sought to bestow honour—or something more solid than honour—on the
victorious commander; the court of proprietors, on the suggestion of the
court of directors, voted a pension of £1000 per annum to Sir Archdale
Wilson, to commence from the day when his troops entered Delhi.
What honours Brigadier Nicholson would have earned, had his valuable
life been spared, it would be useless to surmise. He was an especial
favourite among the soldiers in the Indian army—more so, perhaps, than
some whose names are better known to English readers; and his death
within the walls of Delhi was very generally deplored. He had not yet
attained his 35th year—a very early age at which to obtain brigade
command, either in the Company’s or the Queen’s armies. Nothing but the
unbounded confidence of Sir John Lawrence in the military genius of
Nicholson would have justified him in making so young a man, a simple
regimental captain (brevet-major), brigadier of a column destined to
fight the rebels all the way from the Punjaub to Delhi; yet even those
seniors who were superseded by this arrangement felt that the duty was
intrusted to one equal to its demands. He had seen hard service during
the Afghan and Punjaub campaigns, as captain in the 27th Bengal native
infantry; and had, instead of idling his time during a furlough visit to
England, studied the armies and military organisation of continental
Europe. An officer who served with him during the mutiny said: ‘He had a
constitution of iron. The day we marched to Murdan he was _twenty-six_
hours in the saddle, following up the mutineers.’ The Queen granted the
posthumous dignity of Knight Commander of the Bath upon
Brigadier-general John Nicholson; and as he was unmarried, the East
India Company departed from their general rule, by bestowing a special
grant of £500 per annum upon his widowed mother, who had in earlier
years lost another son in the Company’s service.
One among many civil servants of the Company who fell during the siege
was Hervey Harris Greathed, a member of a family well known in India.
After filling various official situations in the Punjaub, Rajpootana,
and Meerut, he became chief-commissioner of Delhi, after the foul murder
of Mr Simon Fraser on the 11th of May. Serve or remain in Delhi itself
he could not, for obvious reasons; but he was with Wilson’s army in the
expedition from Meerut to Delhi, and then remained with the siege-army
on the heights, where his intimate knowledge of India and the natives
was of essential value. He died of cholera just before the conclusion of
the siege. His brothers, Robert and George Herbert, had already died in
the services of the Company or the crown; but two others, Edward Harris
and William Wilberforce Harris, survived to achieve fame as gallant
officers.
Another of those who fell on the day of the assault was Lieutenant
Philip Salkeld, of the Bengal engineers. He was the son of a Dorsetshire
clergyman, and went to India in 1850, in his twentieth year, in the
corps of Sappers and Miners. He was employed for four years as an
engineer in connection with the new works of the grand trunk-road, in
Upper India; and was then transferred to the executive engineers’
department in the Delhi division. His first taste of war was in relation
to the mutinies; he was engaged in all the operations of the siege of
Delhi, and was struck down while gallantly exploding the Cashmere Gate.
He lingered in great pain, and died about the 10th of October. The Rev.
S. G. Osborne, in a letter written soon after the news of Salkeld’s
death reached England, said: ‘This young officer has not more
distinguished himself in his profession by his devotion to his country’s
service of his life, than he stands distinguished in the memory of those
who knew him for his virtues as a son and brother. His father, a
clergyman in Dorsetshire, by a reverse of fortune some years since, was
with a large family reduced, I may say, to utter poverty. This, his
soldier son, supported out of his own professional income one of his
brothers at school, helping a sister, obliged to earn her own bread as a
governess, to put another brother to school. Just before his death he
had saved a sum of £1000, which was in the bank at Delhi, and was
therefore lost to him, and, more than this, it was lost to the
honourable purpose to which, as a son and brother, he had devoted it. In
his native county it has been determined to erect a monument to his
memory by subscription. Cadetships having been given to two of his young
brothers, it is now wisely resolved that while the memorial which is to
hand down his name to posterity in connection with his glorious death
shall be all that is necessary for the purpose, every farthing collected
beyond the sum necessary for this shall be expended as he would have
desired, for the good of these his young brothers.’
Lieutenant Duncan Home, another hero of the Cashmere Gate, was not one
of the wounded on that perilous occasion; he lived to receive the
approval of his superior in the engineering department; but his death
occurred even sooner than that of his companion in arms, for he was
mortally wounded on the 1st of October while engaged with an
expeditionary force in pursuit of the fleeing rebels. It was on that
day, a few hours before he received the fatal bullet, that he wrote a
letter to his mother in England; in which, after describing the
operations at the Cashmere Gate, he said: ‘I was then continually on
duty until the king evacuated the palace. I had never more than four
hours’ sleep in the twenty-four, and then only by snatches. I had also
the pleasure of blowing in the gate of the palace; luckily no one fired
at me, there being so few men left in the palace.’
Salkeld and Home received the ‘Victoria Cross,’ a much-coveted honour
among the British troops engaged in the Indian war. As did likewise
Sergeant Smith, who so boldly risked, yet saved, his life; and also
Bugler Hawthorne of the 52d, who blew his signal-blast in spite of the
shots whistling around him. Poor Sergeant Carmichael and Corporal
Burgess did not live to share in this honour; they fell bullet-pierced.
[Illustration:
State Palanquin.
]
-----
Footnote 78:
Chap. xiv., pp. 230-246.
Footnote 79:
By comparing two wood-cuts—‘Bird’s-eye View of Delhi’ (p. 64), and
‘Delhi from Flagstaff Tower’ (p. 76)—the reader will be assisted in
forming an idea of the relative positions of the mutineers within the
city, and of the British on the ridge and in the camp behind it. The
‘Bird’s-eye View’ will be the most useful for this purpose, as
combining the characteristics of a _view_ and a _plan_, and shewing
very clearly the river, the bridge of boats, the camp, the ridge, the
broken ground in front of it, the Flagstaff Tower, Metcalfe House, the
Custom-house, Hindoo Rao’s house, the Samee House, the Selimgurh fort,
the city, the imperial palace, the Jumma Musjid, the walls and
bastions, the western suburbs, &c.
Footnote 80:
H.M. 75th foot, 100 men.
1st Bengal Europeans, 350 men.
Coke’s Punjaub Rifles, 250 men.
H.M. 8th foot, 100 men.
2d Bengal Europeans, 100 men.
Kumaon Goorkhas, 100 men.
4th Sikh infantry, 100 men.
H.M. 9th Lancers, one squadron.
Horse artillery, six guns.
Footnote 81:
H.M. 52d light infantry.
35th Bengal native infantry.
2d Punjaub infantry.
9th Bengal native cavalry, one wing.
Moultan horse.
Dawe’s troop of horse-artillery.
Smyth’s troop of native foot-artillery.
Bourchier’s light-infantry battery.
Footnote 82:
During that famous pursuit and defeat of the Sealkote mutineers, a
wing of H.M. 52d foot marched sixty-two miles in forty-eight hours of
an Indian summer, besides fighting with an enemy who resisted with
more than their usual determination. It was work worthy of a regiment
which had marched _three thousand miles in four years_.
Footnote 83:
‘What a sight our camp would be even to those who visited Sebastopol!
The long lines of tents, the thatched hovels of the native servants,
the rows of horses, the parks of artillery, the English soldier in his
gray linen coat and trousers (he has fought as bravely as ever without
pipeclay), the Sikhs with their red and blue turbans, the Afghans with
their red and blue turbans, their wild air, and their gay head-dresses
and coloured saddle-cloths, and the little Goorkhas, dressed up to the
ugliness of demons in black worsted Kilmarnock hats and woollen
coats—the truest, bravest soldiers in our pay. There are scarcely any
Poorbeahs (Hindustanis) left in our ranks, but of native servants many
a score. In the rear are the booths of the native bazaars, and further
out on the plain the thousands of camels, bullocks, and horses that
carry our baggage. The soldiers are loitering through the lines or in
the bazaars. Suddenly the alarm is sounded. Every one rushes to his
tent. The infantry soldier seizes his musket and slings on his pouch,
the artilleryman gets his guns harnessed, the Afghan rides out to
explore; in a few minutes everybody is in his place.
‘If we go to the summit of the ridge of hill which separates us from
the city, we see the river winding along to the left, the bridge of
boats, the towers of the palace, and the high roof and minarets of the
great mosque, the roofs and gardens of the doomed city, and the
elegant-looking walls, with batteries here and there, the white smoke
of which rises slowly up among the green foliage that clusters round
the ramparts.’
Footnote 84:
‘The first day we marched to a place called Khurkowdeh, but such a
march! We had to go through water for miles up to the horses’ girths.
We took Khurkowdeh by surprise, and Hodson immediately placed men over
the gates, and we went in. Shot one scoundrel instanter, cut down
another, and took a ressaldar (native officer) and some sowars
(troopers) prisoners, and came to a house occupied by some more, who
would not let us in at all; at last, we rushed in and found the
rascals had taken to the upper story, and still kept us at bay. There
was only one door and a kirkee (window). I shoved in my head through
the door, with a pistol in my hand, and got a clip over my turban for
my pains; my pistol missed fire at the man’s breast (you must send me
a revolver), so I got out of that as fast as I could, and then tried
the kirkee with the other barrel, and very nearly got another cut. We
tried every means to get in, but could not, so we fired the house, and
out they rushed a muck among us. The first fellow went at ——, who
wounded him, but somehow or other he slipped and fell on his back. I
saw him fall, and, thinking he was hurt, rushed to the rescue. A Guide
got a chop at the fellow, and I gave him such a swinging back-hander
that he fell dead. I then went at another fellow rushing by my left,
and sent my sword through him, like butter, and bagged him. I then
looked round and saw a sword come crash on the shoulders of a poor
youth; oh, such a cut; and up went the sword again, and the next
moment the boy would have been in eternity, but I ran forward and
covered him with my sword and saved him. During this it was over with
seven men. —— had shot one with his revolver, and the other four were
cut down at once. Having polished off these fellows, we held an
impromptu court-martial on those we had taken, and shot them
all—murderers every one, who were justly rewarded for their deeds.’
Footnote 85:
H.M. 9th Lancers (Captain Sarrell), One squadron.
Guide cavalry (Captain Sandford), 120 men.
2d Punjaub cavalry, 80 men.
Moultan horse.
H.M. 61st foot (Colonel Renny), 420 men.
1st Bengal Europeans (Major Jacob), 380 men.
1st Punjaub infantry (Coke’s), 400 men.
2d Punjaub Infantry (Green’s), 400 men.
Sappers and Miners, 30 men.
Horse-artillery (Tombs’ and Olphert’s), Sixteen guns.
Captain (now Major) Olphert being ill, the command of his troop was
taken by Captain Remington.
Footnote 86:
‘Mrs ——, the wife of Mr ——, made her escape from Delhi on the morning
of the 19th. Poor creature, she was almost reduced to a skeleton; as
she had been kept in a sort of dungeon while in Delhi. Two
chuprassees, who, it appears, have all along been faithful to her,
aided her in making her attempt to escape. They passed through the
Ajmeer Gate, but not wholly unobserved by the mutineers’ sentries, as
one of the chuprassees was shot by them. It being dark at the time,
she lay hidden among the long web-grass until the dawn of day, when
she sent the chuprassee to reconnoitre, and as luck would have it, he
came across the European picket stationed at Subzee Mundee. So soon as
he could discover who they were, he went and brought the lady into the
picket-house amongst the soldiers, who did all they could to insure
her safety. As soon as she arrived inside the square, she fell down
upon her knees, and offered up a prayer to Heaven for her safe
deliverance. All she had round her body was a dirty piece of cloth,
and another piece folded round her head. She was in a terrible
condition; but I feel assured that there was not a single European but
felt greatly concerned in her behalf; and some even shed tears of pity
when they heard the tale of woe that she related. After being
interrogated by the officers for a short time, Captain Bailey provided
a doolie for her, and sent her under escort safe to camp, where she
has been provided with a staff-tent, and everything that she
requires.’
Footnote 87:
_Artillery, Engineers, &c._
European { Artillerymen of all kinds, 1350
and { Engineers, Sappers, Miners, &c., 722
Native. { Pioneers, unarmed and undisciplined, ?
————
2072
_Cavalry._
{ H.M. Carabiniers, 123
European. { H.M. 9th Lancers, 391
{ 4th irregular cavalry (disarmed and unhorsed), 78
{ 1st Punjaub cavalry, 147
Native. { 2d Punjaub cavalry, 114
{ 5th Punjaub cavalry, 107
{ Hodson’s Irregular Horse, 462
{ Guide corps, cavalry, 283
————
1705
_Infantry._
{ H.M. 8th foot, 322
{ H.M. 52d foot, 302
{ H.M. 60th Rifles, 390
European. { H.M. 61st foot, 402
{ H.M. 75th foot, 459
{ 1st Bengal European Fusiliers, 427
{ 2d Bengal European Fusiliers, 370
{ Sirmoor battalion, Goorkhas, 212
{ Kumaon battalion, Goorkhas, 312
{ Guide corps, infantry, 302
Native. { 4th Sikh infantry, 414
{ 1st Punjaub infantry, 664
{ 2d Punjaub infantry, 650
{ 4th Punjaub infantry, 541
{ Belooch battalion, 322
————
6089
Footnote 88:
_1st Column_, under Brigadier-general Nicholson—
Men.
H.M. 75th foot (Lieutenant-colonel Herbert), 300
1st Bengal Europeans (Major Jacob), 250
2d Punjaub infantry (Captain Green), 450
_2d Column_, under Brigadier Jones—
H.M. 8th foot (Lieutenant-colonel Greathed), 250
2d Bengal Europeans (Captain Boyd), 250
4th Sikh infantry (Captain Rothney), 350
_3d Column_, under Colonel Campbell—
H.M. 52d foot (Major Vigors), 200
Kumaon Goorkhas (Captain Ramsay), 250
1st Punjaub infantry (Lieutenant Nicholson), 500
_4th Column_, under Major Reid—
Sirmoor Goorkhas,}
Guide infantry, } Besides Cashmere Contingent,
European pickets,} of which strength unknown. 850
Native pickets, }
_Reserve_, under Brigadier Longfield—
H.M. 61st foot (Lieutenant-colonel Deacon), 250
4th Punjaub infantry (Captain Wilde), 450
Belooch battalion (Lieutenant-colonel Farquhar), 300
Jheend auxiliaries (Lieutenant-colonel Dunsford), 300
The engineer officers were attached to the several columns as follows:
To the 1st column, Lieuts. Medley, Lang, and Bingham.
To the 2d column, Lieuts. Greathed, Hovenden, and Pemberton.
To the 3d column, Lieuts. Home, Salkeld, and Tandy.
To the 4th column, Lieuts. Maunsell and Tennant.
To the Reserve, Lieuts. Ward and Thackeray.
Footnote 89:
One of the writers remarked: ‘The stout rope-mat which forms an
efficient screen to the Russian artillerymen while serving their gun,
impervious to the Minié ball, which lodges harmlessly in its rough and
rugged surface, may surely suggest to our engineers the expediency of
some effort to shield the valuable lives of our men when exposed to
the enemy’s fire. In ancient warfare, all nations appear to have
defended themselves from the deadly arrow by shields, and why the
principle of the testudo should be ignored in modern times is not
obvious. Take the instance before us—Lieutenant Salkeld and a few
others undertake the important, but most perilous duty of blowing in
the Cashmere Gate, by bags of gunpowder, in broad daylight, and in the
face of numerous foes, whose concentrated fire threatens the whole
party with certain death. It is accomplished, but at what a loss!
Marvellous indeed was it that one escaped. Now, as a plain man,
without any scientific pretensions, I ask, could not, and might not,
some kind of defensive screen have been furnished for the protection
of these few devoted men? Suppose a light cart or truck on three
wheels, having a semicircular framework in front, against which might
be lashed a rope-matting, and inside a sufficient number of sacks of
wool or hay, propelled by means of a central cross-bar pushed against
by four men within the semicircle, the engineers could advance, and on
reaching the gate, perform their work through a central orifice in the
outer matting, made to open like a flap. The party would then retire
in a similar manner, merely reversing the mode of propulsion, until
the danger was past.’ Another, Mr Rock of Hastings, said: ‘In July
1848, I sent a plan for a movable shield for attacking barricades, to
General Cavaignac, at Paris; and on the 13th or 14th of July your own
columns (the _Times_) contained descriptions of my machine, and a
statement by your Paris correspondent that it had been constructed at
the Ecole Militaire in that city. Fortunately, it was never used
there, but there seems to me no valid reason why such a contrivance
should not be used on occasions like that which recently occurred at
Delhi. The truck proposed, with a shield in front, would serve to
carry the powder-bags, without incurring the chance of their being
dropped owing to the fall of one or two of the men employed on the
service, while the chances of premature ignition would be diminished.
These, I think, are advantages tending to insure success which should
induce military engineers to use movable cover for their men when
possible, even if they despise it as a personal protection.’
Footnote 90:
When the magazine was so heroically fired by Lieutenant Willoughby,
four months earlier, the destruction caused was very much smaller than
had been reported and believed. The stores in the magazine had been
available to the rebels during the greater part of the siege.
Footnote 91:
_Europeans_— Killed. Wounded.
Officers, 46 140
Non-commissioned officers, 50 113
Rank and file, 476 1313
_Natives_—
Officers, 14 49
Non-commissioned officers, 37 104
Rank and file, 389 1076
Footnote 92:
‘The force assembled before Delhi has had much hardship and fatigue to
undergo since its arrival in this camp, all of which has been most
cheerfully borne by officers and men. The time is now drawing near
when the major-general commanding the force trusts that their labours
will be over, and that they will be rewarded by the capture of a city
for all their past exertions and for a cheerful endurance of still
greater fatigue and exposure.... The artillery will have even harder
work than they yet have had, and which they have so well and
cheerfully performed hitherto; this, however, will be for a short
period only, and when ordered to the assault, the major-general feels
assured British pluck and determination will carry everything before
them, and that the blood-thirsty and murderous mutineers against whom
they are fighting will be driven headlong out of their stronghold or
be exterminated.
‘Major-general Wilson need hardly remind the troops of the cruel
murders committed on their officers and comrades, as well as their
wives and children, to move them in the deadly struggle. _No quarter
should be given to the mutineers_; at the same time, for the sake of
humanity, and the honour of the country they belong to, he calls upon
them to spare all women and children that may come in their way.... It
is to be explained to every regiment that indiscriminate plunder will
not be allowed; that prize-agents have been appointed, by whom all
captured property will be collected and sold, to be divided, according
to the rules and regulations on this head fairly among all men
engaged; and that any man found guilty of having concealed captured
property will be made to restore it, and will forfeit all claims to
the general prize; he will also be likely to be made over to the
provost-marshal, to be summarily dealt with.’
Footnote 93:
‘The reports and returns which accompany this dispatch establish the
arduous nature of a contest carried on against an enemy vastly
superior in numbers, holding a strong position, furnished with
unlimited appliances, and aided by the most exhausting and sickly
season of the year.
‘They set forth the indomitable courage and perseverance, the heroic
self-devotion and fortitude, the steady discipline, and stern resolve
of English soldiers.
‘There is no mistaking the earnestness of purpose with which the
struggle has been maintained by Major-general Wilson’s army. Every
heart was in the cause; and while their numbers were, according to all
ordinary rule, fearfully unequal to the task, every man has given his
aid, wherever and in whatever manner it could most avail, to hasten
retribution upon a treacherous and murderous foe.
‘In the name of outraged humanity, in memory of innocent blood
ruthlessly shed, and in acknowledgment of the first signal vengeance
inflicted upon the foulest treason, the governor-general in council
records his gratitude to Major-general Wilson and the brave army of
Delhi. He does so in the sure conviction that a like tribute awaits
them, not in England only, but wherever within the limits of
civilisation the news of their well-earned triumph shall reach.’
Some days afterwards, Lord Canning issued a more formal and complete
proclamation, of which a few paragraphs may here be given: ‘Delhi, the
focus of the treason and revolt which for four months have harassed
Hindostan, and the stronghold in which the mutinous army of Bengal has
sought to concentrate its power, has been wrested from the rebels. The
king is a prisoner in the palace. The head-quarters of Major-general
Wilson are established in the Dewani Khas [the “Elysium” of the Mogul
palace-builders, and of Moore’s _Lalla Rookh_]. A strong column is in
pursuit of the fugitives.
‘Whatever may be the motives and passions by which the mutinous
soldiery, and those who are leagued with them, have been instigated to
faithlessness, rebellion, and crimes at which the heart sickens, it is
certain that they have found encouragement in the delusive belief that
India was weakly guarded by England, and that before the government
could gather together its strength against them, their ends would be
gained.
‘They are now undeceived.
‘Before a single soldier of the many thousands who are hastening from
England to uphold the supremacy of the British power has set foot on
these shores, the rebel force, where it was strongest and most united,
and where it had the command of unbounded military appliances, has
been destroyed or scattered by an army collected within the limits of
the Northwestern Provinces and the Punjaub alone.
‘The work has been done before the support of those battalions which
have been collected in Bengal from the forces of the Queen in China
and in her Majesty’s eastern colonies could reach Major-general
Wilson’s army; and it is by the courage and endurance of that gallant
army alone, by the skill, sound judgment, and steady resolution of its
brave commander, and by the aid of some native chiefs true to their
allegiance, that, under the blessing of God, the head of the rebellion
has been crushed, and the cause of loyalty, humanity, and rightful
authority vindicated.’
[Illustration:
SIR J. E. W. INGLIS, defender of Lucknow.
]
CHAPTER XIX.
THE STORY OF THE LUCKNOW RESIDENCY.
There were events that made a deeper impression on the minds of the
English public; military exploits more grand and comprehensive; episodes
more fatal, more harrowing; trains of operation in which well-known
heroic names more frequently found place—but there was nothing in the
whole history of the Indian mutiny more admirable or worthy of study
than the defence of Lucknow by Brigadier Inglis and the British who were
shut up with him in the Residency. Such a triumph over difficulties has
not often been placed upon record. Nothing but the most resolute
determination, the most complete soldierly obedience, the most untiring
watchfulness, the most gentle care of those who from sex or age were
unable to defend themselves, the most thorough reliance on himself and
on those around him, could have enabled that gallant man to bear up
against the overwhelming difficulties which pressed upon him throughout
the months of July, August, and September. He occupied one corner of an
enormous city, every other part of which was swarming with deadly
enemies. No companion could leave him, without danger of instant death
at the hands of the rebel sepoys and the Lucknow rabble; no friends
could succour him, seeing that anything less than a considerable
military force would have been cut off ere it reached the gates of the
Residency; no food or drink, no medicines or comforts, no clothing, no
ammunition, in addition to that which was actually within the place at
the beginning of July, could be brought in. Great beyond expression were
the responsibilities and anxieties of one placed in command during
eighty-seven of such days—but there was also a moral grandeur in the
situation, never to be forgotten.
In former chapters of this work,[94] much has been said concerning
Lucknow, its relations towards the British government on the one hand,
and the court of Oude on the other, and the operations which enabled
Havelock and Neill to bring a small reinforcement to its British
garrison towards the close of September; but what the garrison did and
suffered during the three months before this succour could reach them,
has yet to be told. The eventful story may be given conveniently in this
place, as one among certain intermediate subjects between the military
operations of Sir Henry Havelock and those of Sir Colin Campbell.
Let us endeavour, by recapitulating a few facts, to realise in some
degree the position of the British at Lucknow when July commenced. The
city is a little over fifty miles from Cawnpore—exactly fifty to the
Alum Bagh, fifty-three to the Residency, and fifty-seven to the
cantonment. Most of its principal buildings, including the Residency,
were on the right or southwest bank of the river Goomtee. There was a
cantonment Residency, and also a city Residency, at both of which,
according to his daily duties, it was the custom of the lamented Sir
Henry Lawrence to dwell, before the troubles of the mutiny began; but it
is the city Residency which has acquired a notoriety that will never
die. It is also necessary to bear in mind that the mere official mansion
called the Residency bore but a small ratio to the area and the
buildings now known to English readers by that name. This ambiguity is
not without its inconveniences, for it denotes a Residency _within_ a
Residency. Understanding the Residency to mean English Lucknow, the part
of the city containing the offices and dwellings of most of the official
English residents, then it may be described as an irregular quadrangle a
few hundred yards square, jutting out at the north corner, and indented
or contracted at the west. Within that limit were numerous residences
and other buildings, some military, some political or civil, some
private. The word ‘garrison’ was applied after the defence began, to
buildings which had previously been private or official residences; if,
therefore, the reader meets in one map with ‘Fayrer’s House,’ and in
another with ‘Fayrer’s Garrison,’ he must infer that a private residence
was fortified as a stronghold when the troubles began. In this chapter
we shall in most instances denominate the whole area as the
_intrenchment_ or _enclosure_, with the Residency itself as one of the
buildings; and we shall furthermore retain the original designation of
_house_, rather than _garrison_, for each of the minor residences. The
northeast side of the whole enclosure was nearly parallel with the
river; and the north corner was in near proximity to an iron bridge
carrying a road over the river to the cantonment.
How the British became cooped up within that enclosure, the reader
already knows; a few words will bring to recollection the facts fully
treated in the chapters lately cited. We have there seen that there were
burnings of bungalows, and cartridge troubles, as early as April, in the
cantonment of Lucknow; that on the 3d of May some of the native troops
became insubordinate at the Moosa Bagh, a military post three or four
miles northwest of the Residency; that the 3d Oude infantry was broken
into fragments by this mutiny and its consequences; that Sir Henry
Lawrence sought to restore a healthy feeling by munificently rewarding
certain native soldiers who had remained faithful under temptation; that
towards the close of the month he attended very sedulously to various
magazines and military posts in and near the city; that he fortified the
English quarter by placing defence-works on and near the walls by which
it was already three-fourths surrounded, and by setting up other
defences on the remaining fourth side; that he brought all the women and
children, and all the sick, of the English community, into the space
thus enclosed and guarded; that on the last two days of the month he had
the vexation of seeing most of the native troops in Lucknow and at the
cantonment, belonging to the 13th, 48th, and 71st infantry, and the 7th
cavalry, march off in mutiny towards Seetapoor; and that of the seven
hundred who remained behind, he did not know how many he could trust
even for a single hour. Next, under the month of June, we have seen that
nearly all the districts of Oude fell one by one into the hands of the
insurgents, increasing at every stage the difficulties which beset Sir
Henry as civil and military chief of the province; that he knew the
mutineers were approaching Lucknow as a hostile army, and that he looked
around in vain for reinforcements; that he paid off most of the sepoys
still remaining with him, glad to get rid of men whose continuance in
fidelity could not be relied on; that he greatly strengthened the
Residency, and also the Muchee Bhowan, a castellated structure northwest
of it, formerly inhabited by the dependents of the King of Oude; that
all his letters and messages to other places became gradually cut off,
leaving him without news of the occurrences in other parts of India;
that he stored the Residency with six months’ provisions for a thousand
persons as a means of preparing for the worst; and that on the last day
of the month he fought a most disastrous battle with the mutineers at
Chinhut, seven or eight miles out of Lucknow. Then, when July opened, we
have seen the British in a critical and painful situation. Lawrence
having lost many of his most valued troops, could no longer garrison the
Muchee Bhowan, the cantonment, the dâk bungalow, or any place beyond the
Residency. No European was safe except within the Residency enclosure;
and how little safety was found there was miserably shewn on the 2d of
the month, when a shell from the insurgents wounded the great and good
Sir Henry Lawrence, causing his death on the 4th, after he had made over
the military command of Lucknow to Brigadier Inglis, and the civil
command to Major Banks.
The Europeans, then, become prisoners within the walls of the Residency
enclosure at Lucknow—officers, soldiers, revenue-collectors, judges,
magistrates, chaplains, merchants, ladies, children. And with them were
such native soldiers and native servants as still remained faithful to
the British ‘raj.’ What was the exact number of persons thus thrown into
involuntary companionship at the beginning of July appears somewhat
uncertain; but an exact enumeration has been given of those who took up
their quarters within the Residency on the 30th of May, when the
symptoms of mutiny rendered it no longer safe that the women and
children should remain in the city or at the cantonment. The number was
794.[95] The principal persons belonging to the European community at
Lucknow were the following: Sir Henry Lawrence, chief-commissioner;
Captain Hayes, military secretary; Major Anderson, chief-engineer;
Brigadier Inglis, commandant of the garrison; Brigadier Handscomb,
commandant of the Oude brigade; Captain Carnegie, provost-marshal;
Captain Simons, chief artillery officer; Colonel Master, 7th native
cavalry; Colonel Case and Major Low, H.M. 32d foot; Major Bruyère, 13th
native infantry; Major Apthorp, 41st native infantry; Colonel Palmer and
Major Bird, 48th native infantry; Colonel Halford, 71st native infantry;
Brigadier Gray, Oude Irregulars; Mr Gubbins, finance commissioner; Mr
Ommaney, judicial commissioner; Mr Cooper, chief-secretary. Some of
these died between the 30th of May and the 4th of July, but a few only.
When the whole of the Europeans, officers and privates, had been hastily
driven by the mutiny from the cantonment to the Residency; when all the
native troops who remained faithful had been in like manner removed to
the same place; and when the Muchee Bhowan and all the other buildings
in Lucknow had been abandoned by the British and their adherents—the
intrenched position at and around the Residency became necessarily the
home of a very much larger number of persons; comprising, in addition to
the eight hundred or so just adverted to, many hundred British soldiers,
and such of the sepoys as remained ‘true to their salt.’
In one sense, the Europeans were not taken by surprise. They had watched
the energetic exertions of Sir Henry during the month of June, in which
he exhibited so sagacious a foresight of troubles about to come. They
had seen him accumulate a vast store of provisions; procure tents and
firewood for the Residency; arm it gradually with twenty-four guns and
ten mortars; order in vast quantities of shot, shell, and gunpowder,
from the Muchee Bhowan and the magazines; make arrangements for blowing
up all the warlike _matériel_ which he could not bring in; bury his
barrels of powder beneath the earth in certain open spots in the
enclosure; bury, in like manner, twenty-three lacs of the Company’s
money, until more peaceful days should arrive; destroy many outlying
buildings which commanded or overtopped the Residency; organise all the
males in the place as component elements in a defensive force; bring in
everything useful from the cantonment; build up, in front of the chief
structures in the enclosure, huge stacks of firewood, covered with earth
and pierced for guns; bring the royal jewels and other valuables from
the king’s palace into the Residency for safety; and disarm—much to
their chagrin—the servants and dependents of the late royal family. All
this the Europeans had seen the gallant Lawrence effect during the five
weeks which preceded his death. Of the non-military men suddenly
converted into soldiers, Captain Anderson says: ‘Sir Henry Lawrence
deemed it expedient to enrol all the European and Eurasian writers in
the public offices as volunteers, and he directed arms and ammunition to
be served out to them. Some of these men were taken into the volunteer
cavalry—which also comprised officers civil and military—and the
remainder were drilled as infantry. At the commencement, when these men
were first brought together, to be regularly drilled by sergeants from
Her Majesty’s 32d regiment, the chance of ever making them act in a body
seemed almost hopeless. There were men of all ages, sizes, and figures.
Here stood a tall athletic Englishman; there came a fat and heavy
Eurasian, with more width about the waist than across the chest; next to
the Eurasian came another of the same class, who looked like a
porter-barrel, short and squat, and the belt round his waist very
closely resembled a hoop; not far off you observed an old, bent-double
man, who seemed too weak to support the weight of his musket and
pouch.... We must not always judge by appearances. Amongst this
awkward-looking body there sprang up, during the siege, bold, intrepid,
and daring men!’
Notwithstanding these preparations, however, the calamity fell upon the
inmates too suddenly. The fatal result of the battle of Chinhut
compelled every one to take refuge within the Residency enclosure; even
those who had hitherto lived in the city, rushed in, without
preparation, many leaving all their property behind them except a few
trifling articles. No one was, or ever could be, bitter against Sir
Henry Lawrence; yet were there many criticisms, many expressions of
regret, at the policy which led to the battle; and it is unquestionable
that much of the misery subsequently borne arose from the precipitate
arrangements rendered inevitable on the 30th of June and the following
day. When they saw the rebels march into Lucknow, invest the Residency,
set up a howitzer-battery in front of it, and loophole the walls of
houses for musketry, the Europeans could no longer wait to provide for
domestic and personal comforts, or even conveniences: they hastened to
their prison-house with such resources as could be hastily provided.
Here, then, was a British community thrown most unexpectedly into close
companionship, under circumstances trying to all. It is no wonder that
some among the number kept diaries of the strange scenes they witnessed,
the sad distresses they bore; nor could there be other than a strong
yearning on the part of the English public for a perusal of such diaries
or narratives. Hence the publication of several small but deeply
interesting volumes relating to the defence of Lucknow—one by Mr Rees, a
Calcutta merchant, who happened, unluckily for himself, to be at Lucknow
when the troubles began; another by the wife of one of the two English
chaplains; a third by Captain Anderson; a fourth by a staff-officer.[96]
Such diaries, when used in illustration and correction one of another,
are and must ever be the best sources of information concerning the
inner life of Lucknow during that extraordinary period.
Terrible was the confusion within the Residency enclosure for the first
few days. Those who had hastened into the place from other spots were
endeavouring to find or make something which they could call ‘home;’
those who had been wounded at Chinhut were suffering in agony within the
walls of a building hastily fitted up for them; while the military men
looked anxiously around at the defences of the place, to see what could
be done to keep the enemy out. When the officers, civil or military,
went on the roofs of the houses, they had the mortification of seeing
the mutineers gradually concentrating their forces towards the
Residency; they saw, also, that the prisoners had escaped from the
jails, to join the ranks of those who hated or at any rate opposed the
Feringhees.
Arrangements had for some time been in progress, and were now hastily
completed, to fortify the principal buildings within the enclosure. If
we imagine this English Lucknow to be an irregular diamond-shaped
enclosure, with the acute angles very nearly north and south; then it
may be said that the south angle was the nearest point to the Cawnpore
road, and the north angle the nearest to the iron bridge over the
Goomtee towards the cantonment. Near the south point was the house of
Captain Anderson, standing in the middle of a garden or open court
surrounded by a wall; the house was defended by barricades, and
loopholed for musketry; while the garden was strengthened by a trench
and rows of palisades. Next to this house, and communicating with it by
a hole in the wall, was a newly constructed defence-work that received
the name of the Cawnpore Battery, mounted with guns, and intended to
command some of the houses and streets adjacent to the Cawnpore road. Mr
Deprat’s house had a verandah which, for defensive purposes, was blocked
up with a mud-wall six feet high and two feet and a half thick; this
wall was continued in a straight line to that of the next house, and
carried up to a height of nine feet, with loopholes for musketry. Next
to this was a house occupied as a school for boys of the Martinière
College,[97] strengthened by a stockade of beams placed before it; and
adjacent was a street or road defended by stockades, barricades, and a
trench. Further towards the western angle of the enclosure was a
building formerly known as the Daroo Shuffa or King’s Hospital, but now
called the Brigade Mess-house, having a well-protected and lofty terrace
which commanded an exterior building called Johannes’ house. In its rear
was a parallelogram, divided by buildings into two squares or courts,
occupied in various ways by officers and their families. Then came
groups of low brick buildings around two quadrangles called the Sikh
Squares, on the tops of which erections were thrown up to enable the
troops to fire out upon the town. Separated from these by a narrow lane
was the house of Mr Gubbins, the financial commissioner; the lane was
barricaded by earth, beams, and brambles; the buildings were
strengthened in every way; while the extreme western point was a battery
formed by Mr Gubbins himself. Then, passing along the northwest side
were seen in turn the racket-court, the slaughter-house, the sheep-pen,
and the butcher-yard, all near the boundary of the fortified position,
and separated one from another by wide open spaces; there was a
storehouse for _bhoosa_ (cut chaff for cattle-food), and a guardhouse
for Europeans; and all the buildings were loopholed for musketry. In the
rear of the Bhoosa Intrenchment, as this post was called, was Mr
Ommaney’s house, guarded by a deep ditch and a cactus-hedge, and
provided with two pieces of ordnance. North of the slaughter-house a
mortar-battery was formed. The English church was the next important
building towards the north; it was speedily converted into a granary;
and in the church-yard was formed a mortar-battery capable of shelling
all the portion of the city between it and the iron bridge. This
church-yard was destined afterwards to present melancholy proofs of the
large number of deaths among the English defenders of the place. Beyond
the church-yard was Lieutenant Innes’s house, in dangerous proximity to
many buildings held by the rebels, and bounded on two sides by a garden;
it was a difficult but most important duty to strengthen this house as
much as possible. The extreme northern part of the whole enclosure, not
five hundred yards from the iron bridge, was scarcely susceptible of
defence in itself; but it was fully protected by the Redan Battery,
constructed by Captain Fulton: this was decidedly the best battery in
the whole place, commanding a wide sweep of city and country on both
banks of the river. Along the northeast side, connected at one end with
the Redan, was a series of earthworks, fascines, and sand-bags,
loopholed for musketry, and mounted with guns. A long range of sloping
garden-ground was turned into a glacis in front of the line of
intrenchment just named. In the centre of the northern half of the whole
place was the Residency proper, the official home of the
chief-commissioner; this was a large and beautiful brick building, which
was speedily made to accommodate many hundred persons; and as it was on
high ground, the terrace-roof commanded a view of the whole city—to
whoever would incur the peril of standing there.[98] The hospital, a
very large building near the eastern angle of the whole enclosure, had
once been the banqueting-room for the British resident at the King of
Oude’s court; but it was now occupied as a hospital, a dispensary,
officers’ quarters, and a laboratory for making fuses and cartridges; it
was defended by mortars and guns in various directions. The Ballee or
Bailey guard was near the hospital, but on a lower level; various parts
of it were occupied as a store-room, a treasury, and barracks; the
portion really constituting the Bailey guard gate, the station of the
sepoys formerly guarding the Residency, was unluckily beyond the limits
of the enclosure, and was productive of more harm than good to the
garrison; as a means of security, the gateway was blocked up with earth,
and defended by guns. Dr Fayrer’s house, south of the hospital, had a
terrace-roof whence rifles were frequently brought to bear on the
insurgents, and near it a gun or two were placed in position. Southward
again was the civil dispensary; and near this the post-office, a
building which, from its position and construction, was one of the most
important in the whole place; soldiers were barracked in the interior, a
shell and fuse room was set apart, the engineers made it their
head-quarters, several families resided in it, and guns and mortars were
planted in and around it. The financial-office, and the house of Mrs
Sago (mistress of a charity-school), were on the southeast side of the
enclosure, and were with great difficulty brought into a defensive
state. The judicial office, near Sago’s house, could only be protected
from an open lane by a wall of fascines and earth. The jail, near the
Cawnpore Gate, was converted into barracks; and the native hospital
became a tolerably sheltered place. The Begum’s Kothee, or ‘lady’s
house’ (formerly belonging to a native lady of rank), was in the centre
of the whole enclosure; it comprised many buildings, which were
afterwards parcelled off as commissariat store-rooms, cooking-rooms, and
dwellings for officers’ families.
It will thus be seen that the Residency at Lucknow, so often mentioned
in connection with the history of the mutiny, was a small town rather
than a single building. But it will also be seen that this small town
was most dangerously placed, in juxtaposition to a large city full of
hostile inhabitants and revolted sepoys. Before Sir Henry Lawrence took
it in hand in June, it could be approached and entered from all sides;
and at the beginning of July only a part of the defence-works above
described were completed. The officers had to fight and build, to suffer
and work, to watch and fortify, day after day, under privations
difficult for others to appreciate. The various houses, more frequently
designated _garrisons_ by those engaged in the siege, did really deserve
that title in a military sense; for they were gradually transformed into
little forts or strongholds, each placed under one commander, and each
defended indomitably against all attacks from the enemy. To give one as
an example of many—Captain Anderson, who had resided at Lucknow, as
assistant-commissioner, ever since the annexation of Oude, made his own
house one of these fortified posts; he had under him eighteen men and
one subaltern officer, with whose aid he withstood a _five months’_
siege, notwithstanding the enemy had nine 9-pounder guns playing on his
house. The wall of the compound around the house was levelled, and a
stockade put in its place; within the stockade was a ditch, then an
earthwork five feet high, and then another ditch with pointed bamboos,
forming a _chevaux-de-frise_. It was, in truth, a small citadel, and one
very important for the safety of the whole place.
[Illustration:
Plan of Residency and part of the City of Lucknow.
]
The siege began on the 1st of July, the day following the disastrous
battle of Chinhut. It was indeed a siege, even more so than that to
which Sir Hugh Wheeler had been exposed at Cawnpore; for there was not
only constant firing of musketry, cannon, and mortars, by the
mutineers against the Residency; but there were also subterranean
mines or galleries dug from the outer streets under the enclosing
wall, to blow up the defenders and their defence-works. At every hour
of the day, at every corner of the Residency enclosure, was it
necessary to keep strict watch. A telegraph, worked at the top of one
of the buildings, gave signals to the officers at the Muchee Bhowan,
directing them to blow up that fort, and retire to the Residency with
the treasure and the guns. This was a most perilous enterprise, but
under the skilful superintendence of Captain Francis and Lieutenant
Huxhain it succeeded; 240 barrels of gunpowder, and 600,000 rounds of
ammunition, were blown into the air, to prevent them from falling into
the hands of the enemy; and then the few officers and soldiers marched
from the Muchee Bhowan to the Residency, where they helped to
strengthen the wofully small number of efficient fighting-men.[99] All
this was done by midnight on the 1st. On the 2d, while resting on a
couch after his exhausting and anxious labours, Sir Henry Lawrence was
struck by the shell which took away his valuable life; for it was a
day on which _ten thousand_ rebels were firing shells, balls, and
bullets into or at the Residency. Miss Palmer, daughter of Colonel
Palmer of the 48th, had her thigh shattered by a ball which entered
one of the buildings; and Mr Ommaney was among the wounded. On the 3d
dire confusion was everywhere visible; for all felt that their great
leader would die of his wound: none had yet fully realised the
appalling difficulties of their position; yet were they distracted by
family anxieties on the one hand, and public duty on the other. On the
4th, Lawrence descended to the grave; on that day his nephew, Mr G. H.
Lawrence, was wounded; and on that day, also, all order or legitimate
trade ceased in the city, for marauders and budmashes plundered the
shops. No military honours marked the funeral of Sir Henry; there was
neither time nor opportunity for any display; a hurried prayer was
repeated amid the booming of the enemy’s cannon, and a few spadefuls
of earth speedily covered the mortal remains of one whose good name
was not likely soon to die.[100] On or about the 5th, the enemy seized
the building known as Johannes’ house, from which they were able to
keep up a deadly fire of musketry against Anderson’s house, the jail
barracks, the post-office, and the Begum’s Kothee; it was afterwards
much regretted that this house had not been included among those
demolished by Sir Henry. On the 6th and 7th, the harassing fire
continued from various points. Some of the bhoosa, or chopped straw
for bullocks’ fodder, had been left in an ill-defended place; it was
fired by the enemy, and totally consumed, placing in imminent danger a
powder-magazine at no great distance. Major Francis had both his legs
cut off by a cannon-ball, while quietly sitting in the mess-room; Mr
Marshall, an opium-merchant, was killed, and the Rev. Mr Polehampton
was wounded, about this time. It was a cruel vexation to the garrison
to see and feel how much they were suffering through the skilful
gunnery which the British had taught to the miscreants now in the
insurgent army. The enemy’s artillerymen displayed great rapidity,
ingenuity, and perseverance, in planting batteries in positions
totally unlooked for; some even on house-tops, and others in spots
where the garrison could not respond to their fire. It was more than
suspected that Europeans were among them; indeed one reckless member
of an otherwise worthy English family was recognised among the number,
bringing discredit upon brothers and cousins who were at that very
time gallantly serving the Company elsewhere. Many of the enemy’s
batteries were not more than fifty or a hundred yards distant from the
marginal buildings of the Residency enclosure; the balls knocked down
pillars and verandahs with fearful accuracy. Most of the deaths,
however, from ten to twenty a day, were caused by musket-bullets; the
enemy had many good marksmen—especially a rebel African, who used his
musket with deadly effect from Johannes’ house. If Sir Henry Lawrence
had been a sterner soldier, if he had not been influenced by such
considerate feelings for the opinions and prejudices of others, the
British would have lost fewer lives than they did in Lucknow. We have
already said that many of the houses around the Residency were
destroyed by orders of Sir Henry, to prevent the enemy from converting
them into strongholds; but it was afterwards known that the military
officers under him urged the necessity for a still greater demolition.
Brigadier Inglis, when at a later date he made a military report of
the siege and the defence, adverted to this point in very decisive
language. ‘When the blockade commenced,’ he said, ‘only two of our
batteries were completed, part of the defences were yet in an
unfinished condition, and the buildings in the immediate vicinity,
which gave cover to the enemy, were only very partially cleared away.
Indeed, our heaviest losses have been caused by the fire from the
enemy’s sharpshooters, stationed in the adjoining mosques and houses
of the native nobility, to the necessity of destroying which the
attention of Sir Henry had been repeatedly drawn by the staff of
engineers; but his invariable reply was: “Spare the holy places, and
private property too, as far as possible;” and we have consequently
suffered severely from our very tenderness to the religious prejudices
and respect to the rights of our rebellious citizens and soldiery. As
soon as the enemy had thoroughly completed the investment of the
Residency, they occupied these houses, some of which were within easy
pistol-shot of our barricades, in immense force, and rapidly made
loopholes on those sides which bore on our post, from which they kept
up a terrific and incessant fire day and night.’
The second week of the siege began, bringing with it an augmentation of
the troubles already bitterly tasted. One day the Bailey guard would be
fiercely attacked, another day the Cawnpore Battery, demanding incessant
watchfulness on the part of the officers and men posted at those
outworks. Brigadier Inglis sent off letters and messages to Cawnpore and
Allahabad; but none reached their destination, the messengers being all
intercepted on the way. He did not know how his missives fared; he only
knew that no aid, no intelligence, reached him, and he measured his
resources with an anxious heart. Sometimes a few officers would retire
to snatch a little rest just before midnight, and then would be roused
at one or two o’clock in the morning by a message that Gubbins’s
house—or ‘garrison,’ as most of the houses within the enclosure were now
called—or the Bailey guard, or some other important post, was closely
attacked. Sleep, food, everything was forgotten at such moments, except
the one paramount duty of repelling the enemy at the attacked point. One
day a rebel musketeer pushed forward to such a spot as enabled him to
shoot Lieutenant Charlton within side the very door of the church. The
enemy sometimes fired logs of wood from their cannon and mortars, as if
deficient in shot and shell; but they did not slacken from this or any
other cause; they sent shots which set the commissioner’s house on fire,
causing much danger and difficulty in extinguishing the flames; and it
became perilous for any one within the enclosure to be seen for an
instant by the enemy—so deadly accurate were their marksmen. Once now
and then the officers with a few men, longing for a dash that would
inspirit them in the midst of their troubles, would astonish the enemy
by making a sortie beyond the defences, spiking a gun or two,
despatching a few of the rebels, and hastening back to the enclosure.
Lives being, however, too valuable to be risked for advantages so small
as these, the brigadier sought rather to discourage than encourage such
acts of heroism. Mr Bryson and Lieutenant Baxter were among the many who
fell at this time. The officers did men’s duty, the civilians did
military duty; for there were not hands enough to guard properly the
numerous threatened points. One night all spare hands would be called
upon to cover with tarpaulin the bhoosa stacks in the racket-court; on
another, civilians who never before did labourers’ work were called up
to dig earth and to carry sand-bags for batteries or breastworks; or
they would stand sentinels all night in drenching rains. And then,
perhaps on returning to their houses or ‘garrisons’ in the morning, they
would find them untenable by reason of the torrent of balls and bullets
to which they had been exposed. The open spots between the several
buildings became gradually more and more dangerous. ‘A man could not
shew his nose,’ says Captain Anderson, ‘without hearing the whiz of
bullets close to his head. The shot, too, came from every direction; and
when a poor fellow had nearly jerked his head off his shoulders in
making humble salutations to passing bullets, he would have his penance
disagreeably changed into a sudden and severe contortion of the whole
body to avoid a round shot or shell. So soon as a man left his post he
had no time for meditation; his only plan was to proceed rapidly. In
fact, to walk slow was in some places very, very dangerous; and many a
poor fellow was shot, who was too proud to run past places where bullets
danced on the walls like a handful of pease in a frying-pan.’
The third week arrived. Now were the gallant defenders still more
distressed and indignant than they had hitherto been; for the enemy
commenced firing at the Brigade Mess, where large numbers of ladies and
children had taken refuge; attacks were thus made on those who could not
defend themselves, and the officers and soldiers found their attention
distracted from necessary duties at other points. Anderson’s house had
by this time become so riddled with shot, that the stores were removed
from it; and Deprat’s house, similarly battered by the enemy, in like
manner became uninhabitable. The buildings near the boundary naturally
suffered most; and, as a consequence, those nearer the centre became
more and more crowded with inmates. Day by day did officers and men work
hard to strengthen the defences. Mortars were placed behind the
earthwork at the post-office, to jet forth shells upon the troublesome
Johannes’ house; stockades and traverses were made, to screen the
entrance to the Residency, within which so many persons were domiciled.
Nevertheless the attack increased in vigour quite as rapidly as the
defence; for the insurgents appear to have received large
reinforcements. Their custom was to fire all night, so as to afford the
garrison no rest, and thus tire them out; they so pointed a mortar as to
send two shells directly into the Residency itself; they commenced a new
battery, to bear upon Gubbins’s house; their cannon-balls—of which there
were indications of a new supply—fell upon and into Fayrer’s and
Gubbins’s houses, the post-office and the Brigade Mess; a shot burst
through a room in which many of the principal officers were
breakfasting; a mine was sprung inside the Water Gate, intended to blow
up the Redan Battery; and at the same time vigorous attacks were made
with guns and musketry on almost every part of the enclosure, as if to
bewilder the garrison with crushing onslaughts on every side. The pen
cannot describe the state of incessant anxiety into which these daily
proceedings threw the forlorn inmates of the place: no one could look
forward to a night of sleep after a harassing day; for the booming of
cannon, and the anticipated visit of a cannon-ball or a mortar-shell,
drove away sleep from most eyelids. It was on the 20th that the
specially vigorous attack, just adverted to, was made; so general and
energetic, that it almost partook of the character of a storming or
assault of a beleaguered city. Nothing but the most untiring assiduity
could have saved the garrison from destruction. Every one who could
handle a musket or load a cannon, did so; others helped to construct
stockades and earthen barriers; and even many of the sick and wounded
rose from their pallets, staggered along to the points most attacked,
sought to aid in the general cause, and in some instances dropped dead
while so doing. Almost every building was the object of a distinct
attack. The Redan Battery was fortunately not blown up, the enemy having
miscalculated the distance of their mine; but the explosion was followed
by a desperate struggle on the glacis outside, in which the insurgents
were mowed down by grape-shot before they would abandon their attempt to
enter at that point. At Innes’s house, Lieutenant Loughnan maintained a
long and fierce contest against a body of insurgents twentyfold more
numerous than the little band who aided him; before they desisted, no
less than a hundred dead and wounded were carried off by the rebels. The
financial office and Sago’s house, entirely defended by non-military
men, bore up bravely against the torrent brought against them. The
judicial office, under Captain Germon, and Anderson’s house, under
Captain Anderson, were not only successfully defended, but the handful
of troops aided other points where there were no military men. The
Brigade Mess, Gubbins’s house, the houses near the Cawnpore Battery—all
were attacked with vigour, but every attack was repelled.
When the muster-roll was called after these exciting scenes, it was
found that many valuable lives had been lost. Yet is it truly remarkable
that less than thirty persons of all classes in the garrison were killed
or wounded on the 20th. No officer was killed; among the wounded were
Captains Lowe and Forbes, Lieutenants Edmonstone and M’Farlane, and
Adjutant Smith. Mr Rees asserts that the loss of the enemy, during seven
hours of incessant fighting, could hardly have been less than a thousand
men. It was the grape-shot poured forth from the garrison that worked
this terrible destruction. The week had been attended with its usual
list of isolated losses within the enclosure. On one day Lieutenant
Lester was killed; on another, Lieutenants Bryce and O’Brien were
wounded; and on another, Lieutenant Harmer was laid low.
The arrival of the fourth week of the siege found Brigadier Inglis and
his companions stout in heart, but yet depressed in spirits; proud of
what they had achieved on the 20th, but fearful that many more such
dangers would beset them. The detachment of the 32d foot was that on
which Inglis most relied in a military point of view, and in that the
casualties had been 150 in three weeks. He had sent out repeated
messengers, but had hitherto obtained not a word of news from any
quarter; shut out from the world of India, he knew of nothing but his
own cares and responsibilities. On the 23d, however, a gleam of joy shot
through the garrison; a messenger, amid imminent peril, had been to
Cawnpore, and brought back news of Havelock’s victories in the Doab.
Inglis immediately sent him off again, with an urgent request to the
gallant general to advance with his column to Lucknow as quickly as
possible. The English residents began to count the days that must elapse
before Havelock could arrive—a hopeful thing at the time, but bitterly
disappointing afterwards; for they knew not how or why it was that
succour did not arrive. Whatever might be the hopes or fears for the
future, there was an ever-present danger which demanded daily and hourly
attention. Although mortified by their late defeat, the enemy did not on
that account give up their attacks. On narrowly watching, the engineers
detected the enemy forming a mine beneath the ground from Johannes’
house to the Sikh Square and the Brigade Mess; they could hear the
miners at their subterraneous work, and they did what military engineers
are accustomed to in such cases—run out a countermine, and destroy the
enemy’s handiwork by an explosion. Above ground the attack was
maintained chiefly by artillery, the hurling of balls, shells,
shrapnels, and those abominable compounds of pitchy and sulphureous
substances which artillerymen call ‘stinkpots.’ The breakfast-table of
the officers at the post-office was one morning visited by an eight-inch
shell, which fell on it without exploding. On the 25th a letter arrived
from Colonel Tytler at Cawnpore, the first received from any quarter
throughout July; for the former messenger had brought rumours concerning
Havelock, not a letter or a message. Great was the joy at learning that
Havelock intended to advance to Lucknow; and Inglis at once sent off to
him a plan of the city, to aid his proceedings—offering the messenger
five thousand rupees if he safely brought back an answer. An anxious
time indeed was it for all, and well might they look out for succour.
Major Banks, the civil commissioner appointed by Sir Henry Lawrence, was
shot dead while reconnoitring from the top of an outhouse; he was an
officer who had served nearly thirty years in India, and who, both as a
soldier and a linguist, had won a good name. Dr Brydon was wounded; the
Rev. Mr Polehampton was killed, as were Lieutenants Lewin, Shepherd, and
Archer, and many others whose lives were valuable, not only to their
families, but to all in the garrison. The death of Major Banks increased
the cares and responsibilities of Brigadier Inglis, who, now that there
was no chief-commissioner, felt the necessity of placing the whole
community under strict military-garrison rules.
In the official dispatch afterwards prepared by Inglis, full justice was
done to the ingenuity and perseverance of the besiegers. Speaking of the
large guns placed in batteries on every side of the enclosure, he said:
‘These were planted all round our post at small distances, some being
actually within fifty yards of our defences, but in places where our own
heavy guns could not reply to them; while the perseverance and ingenuity
of the enemy in erecting barricades in front of and around their guns,
in a very short time rendered all attempts to silence them by musketry
entirely unavailing. Neither could they be effectually silenced by
shells, by reason of their extreme proximity to our position, and
because, moreover, the enemy had recourse to digging very narrow
trenches about eight feet in depth in rear of each gun, in which the men
lay while our shells were flying, and which so effectually concealed
them, even while working the gun, that our baffled sharpshooters could
only see their hands while in the act of loading.’
And now, the reader may ask, what were the ladies and children doing
during this terrible month of July; and how did the officers and men
fare in their domestic and personal matters? It is a sad tale, full of
trouble and misery; and yet it is a heroic tale. No one flinched, no one
dreamed for an instant of succumbing to the enemy. It must be
remembered, as a beginning of all the privations, that the Europeans
went into the Residency very scantily supplied with personal
necessaries. When the cantonment was burned during the mutiny of the
31st of May, much property belonging to the officers was destroyed; and
when every one hurried in for shelter after the disastrous 30th of June,
no time was allowed for making purchases in the city, or bringing in
property from bungalows or storehouses outside the official stronghold.
Hence every one was driven to make the best of such commodities as had
been secured by the last day of June. Even during the greater part of
that month the troubles were many; the enclosure Residency was full of
officers and men, all hard at work; the heat was excessive; cholera,
dysentery, and small-pox were at their deadly work; the church being
full of grain, those who sought religious aid in time of need met for
divine service in any available spot; most of the native servants ran
away when the troubles began; and many of them ended their service by
robbing their masters.
How July opened for the British, may faintly be imagined. The
commissariat chief was ill; no one could promptly organise that office
under the sudden emergency; the food and draught bullocks, unattended
to, roamed about the place; and many of them were shot, or tumbled into
wells. Terrible work was it for the officers to bury the killed
bullocks, lest their decaying carcasses should taint the air in
excessively hot weather. Some of the artillery horses were driven mad
for want of food and water. Day after day, after working hard in the
trenches, the officers had to employ themselves at night in burying dead
bullocks and horses—officers, be it understood; for the men were all
employed as sentries or in other duties. It was not until after many
days that they could turn out of the enclosure all the spare horses, and
secure the rest. As the heat continued, and as the dead bodies of
animals increased in number, the stench became overpowering, and was one
of the greatest grievances to which the garrison were exposed; the
temperature at night was often less patiently borne than that by day,
and the officers and men were troubled by painful boils. Even when wet
days occurred, matters were not much improved; for the hot vapours from
stagnant pools engendered fever, cholera, dysentery, and diarrhœa. The
children died rapidly, and the hospital-rooms were always full; the sick
and wounded could not be carried to upper apartments, because the
enemy’s shot and shell rendered all such places untenable. The officers
were put on half-rations early in the month; and even those rations they
in many cases had to cook for themselves, owing to the disappearance of
the native servants. The English ladies suffered unnumbered privations
and inconveniences. The clergyman’s wife, in her _Diary_, told of the
very first day of the siege in these words: ‘No sooner was the first gun
fired, than the ladies and children—congregated in large numbers in Dr
Fayrer’s house—were all hurried down stairs into an underground room
called the Tye Khana, damp, dark, and gloomy as a vault, and excessively
dirty. Here we sat all day, feeling too miserable, anxious, and
terrified to speak, the gentlemen occasionally coming down to reassure
us and tell us how things were going on. —— was nearly all the day in
the hospital, where the scene was terrible; the place so crowded with
wounded and dying men that there was no room to pass between them, and
everything in a state of indescribable misery, discomfort, and
confusion.’ In the preceding month it had been a hardship for the ladies
to be deprived of the luxuries of Anglo-Indian life; but they were now
driven to measure comforts by a different standard. They were called
upon to sweep their own rooms, draw water from the wells, wash their own
clothes, and perform all the menial duties of a household; while their
husbands or fathers were cramped up in little outhouses or stables, or
anywhere that might afford temporary shelter at night. When food became
scanty and disease prevalent, these troubles were of course augmented,
and difference of rank became almost obliterated where all had to suffer
alike. Many families were huddled together in one large room, and all
privacy was destroyed. The sick and wounded were, as may be supposed, in
sad plight; for, kind as the rest were, there were too many harassing
duties to permit them to help adequately those who were too weak to help
themselves. Officers and men were lying about in the hospital rooms,
covered with blood and often with vermin; the _dhobees_ or washermen
were too weak-handed for the preservation of cleanliness, and few of the
British had the luxury of a change of linen; the windows being kept
closed and barricaded, to prevent the entrance of shot from without, the
pestilential atmosphere carried off almost as many unfortunates as the
enemy’s missiles. The writer of the _Lady’s Diary_, whose narrative is
seldom relieved by one gleam of cheerfulness, departs from her habitual
sadness when describing the mode in which eleven ladies and seven
children slept on the floor in the Tye Khana or cellar, ‘fitting into
each other like bits into a puzzle.’ Chairs being few in number, most of
the ladies sat on the floor, and at meal-times placed their plates on
their knees. The cellar being perfectly dark, candles were lighted at
meal-times. The reason for keeping so many persons in this subterranean
abode was to lessen the chance of their being shot in any upper
apartment. Of one torment, the flies, every person complained bitterly
who was shut up in the Residency enclosure on those fearfully hot days.
Mr Rees says: ‘They daily increased to such an extent that we at last
began to feel life irksome, more on their account than from any other of
our numerous troubles. In the day, flies; at night, mosquitoes. But the
latter were bearable; the former intolerable. Lucknow had always been
noted for its flies; but at no time had they been known to be so
troublesome. The mass of putrid matter that was allowed to accumulate,
the rains, the commissariat stores, the hospital, had attracted these
insects in incredible numbers. The Egyptians could not possibly have
been more molested than we were by this pest. They swarmed in millions,
and though we blew daily some hundreds of thousands into the air, this
seemed to make no diminution in their numbers; the ground was still
black with them, and the tables were literally covered with these cursed
flies. We could not sleep in the day on account of them. We could
scarcely eat. Our beef, of which we got a tolerably small quantity every
day, was usually studded with them; and when I ate my miserable boiled
lentil-soup and unleavened bread, a number of scamps flew into my mouth,
or tumbled into and floated about in my plate.’
Let us proceed, and watch the military operations of the month of
August.
The fifth week of the siege opened with the same scenes as before,
deepened in intensity. The enemy, it is true, did not attack with more
vigour, but the defenders were gradually weakened in every one of their
resources—except courage, and the resolution to bear all rather than
yield to the enemy. Colonel Tytler’s letter had afforded hope that the
relieving column under Havelock would arrive at Lucknow before the end
of July; but when the 30th and 31st had passed, and the 1st and 2d of
August had passed also, then were their hopes cruelly dashed. It
required all the energy of Brigadier Inglis to keep up the spirits of
himself and his companions under the disappointment. He did not know,
and was destined to remain for some time in ignorance, that Havelock had
been forced to return to Cawnpore, owing to the losses suffered by his
heroic little band. About the beginning of the month, great numbers of
additional rebel sepoys entered Lucknow, increasing the phalanx opposed
to the British. They began a new mine near Sago’s house, and another
near the Brigade Mess, in which many of the ladies and children were
sheltered; and it required all the activity of the officers to frustrate
these underground enemies. The rebels planted a 24-pounder near the iron
bridge, to batter the church and the Residency. On one day a shell burst
in a room of the Begum’s Kothee, where Lieutenant James and Mr Lawrence
were ill in bed, but without injuring them; and on another a soldier was
shot dead by a cannon-ball in the very centre room of the hospital.
Inglis tried, but tried in vain, to get any one to take a letter, even
so small as to go into a quill, to Havelock; the enterprise was so
perilous, that the offer of a great reward fell powerless. Thus reduced
to his own resources, he began anxiously to count up his stores and
supplies: he protected the powder-magazine with heavy beams, laden with
a great thickness of earth; and he got the civilians to labour at the
earthworks, and to watch the batteries, for nearly all his engineers
were ill. One engineer-officer, Captain Fulton, was happily spared from
illness longer than most of the others; and he laboured unremittingly
and most skilfully to baffle the enemy’s mining by countermining: he
organised a body of sappers from among the humbler members of the
garrison, and begged every one who did sentry-duty at night to listen
for and give information concerning any underground sounds that denoted
the driving of galleries or mines by the enemy. One of the ladies, Mrs
Dorin, was among the number who this week fell from the shots of the
enemy. An event of this kind was peculiarly distressing to all; an
officer learns to brave death, but he is inexpressibly saddened when he
sees tender women falling near him by bullets.
The sixth week arrived. The brigadier, by redoubling his offers, did at
length succeed in obtaining the aid of a native, who started on the
dangerous duty of conveying a small note to General Havelock at
Cawnpore. This done, he renewed his anxious superintendence of matters
within the enclosure. The enemy mounted on the top of Johannes’ house,
and thence kept up a very annoying fire on the Brigade Mess. They also
recommenced mining near the Redan. On the 8th of August the garrison
could hear and see much marching and countermarching of troops within
the city, without being able to divine its cause; they fondly hoped,
when the booming of guns was heard, that Havelock was approaching. This
hope was, however, speedily and bitterly dashed; for on the following
day a great force of rebels was seen to approach from the direction of
the cantonment, cross the river, and join the main body of the
insurgents within Lucknow. This was a bad omen, for it prefigured an
increase in the number, frequency, and varieties of attack. On the 10th
the enemy succeeded in exploding one of their mines opposite Johannes’
house; it blew up sixty feet of palisades and earthen defences. Under
cover of this surprise, and of a tremendous firing of guns, the enemy
pushed forward into all the buildings near the Cawnpore Battery and
Johannes’ house; but they encountered so steady and determined a
resistance that they were beaten at all points. Near Sago’s house, too,
they fired another mine, which blew up two soldiers; but here, in like
manner, they were repulsed after a fierce contest. This explosion was
accompanied or attended by an incident almost as strange as that
connected with the soldier at Muchee Bhowan; the two men were blown into
the air, but both escaped with their lives; one fell within the
enclosure, slightly bruised, but not seriously injured; the other,
falling into an open road between the enclosure and the enemy, jumped up
when he found himself unhurt, and clambered over a wall or through the
breach, untouched by the storm of bullets sent after him. On the same
day there were other attacks on Innes’s, Anderson’s, and Gubbins’s
houses or garrisons. Of the attacks on the Brigade Mess, the Cawnpore
Battery, and Anderson’s house, Brigadier Inglis afterwards thus spoke in
his dispatch: ‘The enemy sprang a mine close to the Brigade Mess, which
entirely destroyed our defences for the space of twenty feet, and blew
in a great portion of the outside wall of the house occupied by Mr
Schilling’s garrison. On the dust clearing away, a breach appeared
through which a regiment could have advanced in perfect order, and a few
of the enemy came on with the utmost determination; but they were met
with such a withering flank-fire of musketry from the officers and men
holding the top of the Brigade Mess, that they beat a speedy retreat,
leaving the more adventurous of their numbers lying on the crest of the
breach. While this operation was going on, another large body advanced
on the Cawnpore Battery, and succeeded in locating themselves for a few
minutes in the ditch. They were, however, dislodged by hand-grenades. At
Captain Anderson’s post, they also came boldly forward with
scaling-ladders, which they planted against the wall; but here, as
elsewhere, they were met with the most indomitable resolution; and the
leaders being slain, the rest fled, leaving the ladders, and retreated
to their batteries and loopholed defences, whence they kept up for the
rest of the day an unusually heavy cannonade and musketry fire.’ All the
attacks, it is true, were frustrated, but only by fearful labour on the
part of the defenders; every man was worn down by exhaustion on this
terrible day. A message or rather a rumour was received, obscure in its
purport, but conveying the impression that Havelock had been baffled in
his attempt to reach Lucknow: news that produced very great despondency
in the garrison, among those who had become sick at heart as well as in
body. When a cannon-ball rushed along and demolished the verandah of the
Residency or chief-commissioner’s house, it could not do less than add
to the trepidation of the numerous families domiciled within the walls
of that building, already brought into a state of nervous agitation by
the incessant noises and dangers. Death and wounds were as rife as ever
during this week. A shot broke the leg of Ensign Studdy while
breakfasting in the Residency; Captain Waterman was wounded; Lieutenant
Bryce died of a wound received some days earlier; Major Anderson,
chief-engineer, died of dysentery and over-fatigue, bringing grief to
the whole garrison for the loss of a most valuable and intrepid officer.
These were the chief names: those of humbler rank who fell to rise no
more were too many to be officially recorded; they were hastily buried
in the church-yard, and soon driven from the memories of those who had
no time to dwell on the past.
Up to the day when the seventh week of the siege opened, there had been
twenty letters sent for succour, first by Sir Henry Lawrence, and then
by Brigadier Inglis; and to only one of these had a direct reply been
received. Only a few of them, indeed, had reached their destinations;
and of these few, a reply from one alone safely passed through all the
perils between Cawnpore and Lucknow. As has been already said, this
reply was not such as to comfort the British residents; they had to
rouse themselves to a continuance of the same kind of exertions as
before. The enemy did not give them one day, scarcely one hour, of rest.
On the 12th of August so fierce an attack was made on the Cawnpore
Battery, that all the defenders were forced to shield themselves from
the balls and bullets—still remaining at hand, however, in case a closer
assault were attempted. It being found, too, that a mine was being run
by the enemy in the direction of Sago’s house, some of the officers made
a daring sortie to examine this mine, much to their own peril. Then
commenced, as before, a system of countermining, each party of miners
being able to hear the other working in an adjoining gallery; it became
a struggle which should blow the other up; the British succeeded, and
shattered all the works of the enemy at that spot. Nothing in the whole
progress of the siege was more extraordinary than this perpetual mining
and countermining. While the infantry and artillery on both sides were
at their usual deadly work in the open air, the Sappers and Miners were
converting the ground beneath into a honey-comb of dark galleries and
passages—the enemy attempting to blow up the defence-works, and the
defenders attempting to anticipate this by blowing up the enemy.
Whenever the firing by the mutineers slackened in any material degree,
the defenders took advantage of the opportunity to make new sand-bags
for batteries and earthworks, in place of the old ones which had been
destroyed. The 15th of August was a white day within the enclosure; _no
burial took place_. It was also rendered notable by the receipt of a
letter from General Havelock—a letter telling of inability to afford
present succour, and therefore a mournful letter; but still it was
better than none, seeing that it pointed out to all the necessity for
continued exertions in the common cause. Now came the time when a great
increase of discomfort was in store for the numerous persons who had
been accommodated in the Residency, the official house of the
chief-commissioner. The building had been so shaken by shells and balls
that it was no longer secure; and the inmates were removed to other
quarters. On the 18th a terrible commotion took place; the enemy
exploded a mine under the Sikh Square or barrack, and made a breach of
thirty feet in the defence-boundary of the enclosure. Instantly all
hands were set to work; boxes, planks, doors, beams, were brought from
various quarters to stop up the gap; while muskets and pistols were
brought to bear upon the assailants. Not only did the gallant fellows
within the enclosure repel the enemy, but they made a sortie, and blew
up some of the exterior buildings which were in inconvenient proximity.
By the explosion on this day, Captain Orr, Lieutenant Meecham, and other
officers and men, were hurled into the air, but with less serious
results than might have been expected; several, however, were suffocated
by the débris which fell upon them.
By the eighth week the garrison had become in a strange way accustomed
to bullets and balls; that is, though always in misery of some kind or
other, the report of firearms had been rendered so thoroughly familiar
to them, through every day and night’s experience, that it was a matter
of course to hear missiles whiz past the ear. Mr Rees, speaking of his
daily movements from building to building in the enclosure, says: ‘At
one time a bullet passed through my hat; at another I escaped being shot
dead by one of the enemy’s best riflemen, by an unfortunate soldier
passing unexpectedly before me, and receiving the wound through the
temples instead; at another I moved off from a place where in less than
a twinkling of an eye afterwards a musket-bullet stuck in the wall; at
another, again, I was covered with dust and pieces of brick by a
round-shot that struck the wall not two inches away from me; at another,
again, a shell burst a couple of yards away from me, killing an old
woman, and wounding a native boy and a native cook.’ Every day was
marked by some vicissitudes. On the 20th, the enemy opened a tremendous
cannonading, which knocked down a guard-room over the Mess-house, and
lessened the number of places from which the garrison could obtain a
look-out. The enemy were also on that day detected in the attempt to run
new mines under the Cawnpore Battery and the Bailey guard. This led to a
brilliant sortie, headed by Captain M’Cabe and Lieutenant Browne, which
resulted not only in the spiking of two of the enemy’s guns, but also in
the blowing up of Johannes’ house, which had been such a perpetual
source of annoyance to the garrison. It was one of the best day’s work
yet accomplished, and cheered the poor, hard-worked fellows for a time.
Yet they had enough to trouble them; the Cawnpore and Redan batteries
were almost knocked to pieces, and needed constant repair; the judicial
office became so riddled with shot that the women and children had to be
removed from it; the enemy’s sharpshooters were deadly accurate in their
aim; their miners began new mines as fast as the old ones were destroyed
or rendered innoxious; and Inglis’s little band was rapidly thinning.
Another week arrived, the last in August, and the ninth of this perilous
life in the fortified enclosure. The days exhibited variations in the
degree of danger, but not one really bright gleam cheered the hearts of
the garrison. An advantage had been gained by the successful mining and
blowing up of Johannes’ house, once the residence of a merchant of that
name; it had been a post from which an African eunuch belonging to the
late king’s court had kept up a most fatal and accurate fire into the
enclosure, bringing down more Europeans than any other person in the
enemy’s ranks. An advantage was thus gained, it is certain; but there
were miseries in abundance in other quarters. Gubbins’s house had become
so shot-riddled, that the ladies and children domiciled there were too
much imperiled to remain longer; they were removed to other buildings,
adding to the number of inmates in rooms already sadly overcrowded.
Among the natives in the enclosure, desertions frequently took place; a
fact at which no one could reasonably be surprised, but which
nevertheless greatly added to the labours of those on whom devolved the
defence of the place. Distressingly severe as those labours had all
along been, they were now doubly so; for the enemy erected a new battery
opposite the Bailey guard, and commenced new mines in all directions. As
the defenders could seldom venture on a sortie to examine the enemy’s
works of attack, they were driven to the construction of
‘listening-galleries’—underground passages where the sound of the
enemy’s mining picks and shovels could be heard. And then would be
renewed the digging of countermines, and a struggle to determine which
party should be the first to blow up the other. The Mohurrum or
Mohammedan festival commenced this week; a period in which fanatical
Mussulmans are so fierce against all who dissent from their faith, that
the garrison apprehended a new onslaught with more force than ever; this
fear passed away, however, for though there was much ‘tom-tom’
processioning and buffalo-horn bugling in the city, the attacks on the
enclosure did not differ much from their usual character. Another letter
was received from Havelock, which gave joy to men who found that they
were not wholly forgotten by friends in the outer world; but when they
heard that a period of at least three weeks longer must elapse before he
could possibly reach them, their overcharged hearts sank again, and deep
despondency existed for a time among them.
[Illustration:
English Church and Residency at Lucknow—from Officers’ Quarters.
]
During this month of August, the women and children, the sick and
wounded, of course suffered much more terribly than in the previous
month of July. Every kind of peril and discomfort had increased in
severity; every means of succour and solace had diminished in quantity.
Death struck down many; disease and wounds laid low a still greater
number; and those who remained were a prey to carking cares, which wore
down both mind and body. Those who, in a Christian country, are
accustomed to pay the last token of respect to departed friends by
decent funeral ceremonies, were often pained by their disability to do
so in the Lucknow enclosure, under the straitened circumstances of their
position. The Rev. Mr Polehampton, after working day and night in his
kindly offices among the sick and wounded, was at length himself struck
down by cholera; and then came the mournful question, whether he could
have a coffin and a separate grave. The writer of the _Diary_, wife of
the clergyman who succeeded Mr Polehampton in his duties as a pastor,
says that her husband read the funeral-service over the dead body in
presence of the mourning widow, on the day and in the room where the
death took place, before removal for instant interment. ‘She (the widow)
was extremely anxious he should have a coffin, a wish it seemed
impossible to gratify; but —— instituted a search, and found one stored
away with some old boxes under the staircase in the hospital; and he
also had a separate grave dug for him. Since the siege, the bodies have
hitherto always been buried several in the same grave, and sewn up in
their bedding, as there are no people and no time to make coffins.’ In
their troubled state of feeling, vexations affected the different
members of the imprisoned community more acutely than would have been
the case at other times. The plague of flies can be adverted to in a
half-laughing manner by a man in health; but in the Lucknow enclosure it
was a real plague, a source of exquisite misery, against which more
complaints were uttered than almost anything else. There were also
troublesome and painful boils on the person, brought on by high
temperature and insufficient diet and medicines. Whatever might be the
amount of care taken, bullocks were frequently killed by the shot of the
enemy; and as animals so dying were not fit for human food, it became
necessary to bury the carcasses at once. A frightful duty this was,
mostly performed (as has already been stated) at night by officers,
whose few hours of possible sleep were cut short by this revolting sort
of labour. No one could leave the enclosure, except native servants
determined on escape; not an inch of ground belonged to the British
beyond the limits of the intrenched position; and therefore whatever had
to be put out of sight—dead bodies of human beings, carcasses of
bullocks and horses, garbage and refuse of every kind—could only so be
treated by being buried underground in the few open spots between the
buildings. And this, too, in the August of an Indian climate, when even
the best sanitary arrangements fail to remove offensive odours. The
officers, in all their letters and diaries, spoke of this portion of
their labours as being most distressing; while the poor women, cabined
by dozens together in single rooms, yearned, but yearned in vain, for
the breathing of a little air free from impurities. They dared not move
out, for the balls and bullets of the enemy were whizzing across and
into every open spot. Sometimes an 18-pounder shot would burst into a
room where two or three of them were dressing, or where a larger number
were at meals. In some of the houses or ‘garrisons,’ where many ladies
formed one community, they used to take it in turn to keep awake for
hourly watches during the night; one of them said in a letter: ‘I don’t
exactly know what is gained by these night-watchings—except that we are
all very nervous, and are expecting some dreadful catastrophe to
happen.’ The little children died off rapidly, their maladies being more
than could be met by the resources at hand; and those who bore up
against the afflictions were much emaciated. The husbands and fathers,
worn out with daily fatigue and nightly watching, had little solace to
afford their families; and thus the women and children were left to pass
the weary hours as best they could. A few little creatures,
‘siege-babies,’ as their poor mothers called them, came into the world
during this stormy period; and with them each day was a struggle for
life. When the native servants one by one escaped, the discomforts of
the English women of course underwent much aggravation; and when the
house or bungalow of Mr Gubbins became untenable through shot and
bullet, the difficulty was immense of finding shelter elsewhere; every
place was already overcrowded. Much additional misery befell the
officers and men from this fact—that the commissariat quarter, offensive
to every sense on account of the organic accumulations inseparable from
the slaughtering and cutting up of animals—was one of the weakest parts
in the whole enclosure, and required to be guarded at all hours by armed
men, who loathed the spot for the reason just mentioned. The chaplain,
too, found the church-yard getting into such a horrible state that he
dared not go near the graves to read the funeral-service. Mr Rees
mentions an instance to illustrate the anxieties of those who, willing
to suffer themselves, were almost crushed by witnessing the privations
of those dear to them. ‘He’ (mentioning one of the officers) ‘had at
first told me of his wife being feverish and quite overcome with the
abominable life she had to lead. And then he talked to me of his boy
Herbert; how he was attacked with cholera, and feared he was very ill;
and how, instead of being able to watch by his bedside, he had been all
night digging at Captain Fulton’s mine; and then how his child next
night was convulsed, and what little hope of his darling being spared to
them—how heart-rending the boy’s sufferings were to his parents’
feelings—how even his (the father’s) iron constitution was at last
giving way—how he had neither medicine, nor attendance, nor proper food
for the child—and how the blowing up of the mine so close to his sick
child had frightened him. And then to-day he told me, with tears in his
eyes, that yesterday—the anniversary of his birthday—his poor child was
called away. “God’s will be done,” said he; “but it is terrible to think
of. At night we dug a hole in the garden, and there, wrapped in a
blanket, we laid him.”’ This case is not singular; many another poor
parent’s heart was thus torn.
The provisioning of the garrison was of course a perpetual source of
anxiety to Brigadier Inglis and the other officers; or rather, the
distribution of the food already possessed, and rapidly becoming
exhausted, without any prospect of replenishing. Fresh meat was in store
for the garrison as long as any healthy bullocks remained; but in other
articles of food the deficiency became serious as the month advanced. An
immense store of attah—the coarse meal from which chupatties or cakes
were made—had been provided by Sir Henry Lawrence; but this was now
nearly exhausted, and the garrison had to grind corn daily, from the
store kept in the impromptu granaries. The women and the elder children
were much employed in this corn-grinding, by means of hand-mills. To
economise the meal thus laboriously ground, rice and unground wheat were
served out to the natives. The animal food was likely to be limited, by
the want not of bullocks, but of bhoosa or fodder to feed them; and the
commissariat-officers saw clearly before them the approach of a time
when the poor animals must die for want of food. The tea and sugar were
exhausted, except a little store kept for invalids. The tobacco was all
gone; and the soldiers, yearning for a pipe after a hard day’s work,
smoked dried leaves as the only obtainable substitute. A few casks of
porter still remained, to be guarded as a precious treasure. Once now
and then, when an officer was struck down to death, an auction would be
held of the few trifling comforts which he had been able to bring with
him into the enclosure; and then the prices given by those who possessed
means plainly told how eager was the desire for some little change in
the poor and insufficient daily food. A few effects left by Sir Henry
Lawrence were sold; among them, £16 was given for a dozen bottles of
brandy, £7 for a dozen of beer, the same amount for a dozen of sherry,
£7 for a ham, £4 for a quart bottle of honey, £5 for two small tins of
preserved soup, and £3 for a cake of chocolate. Sugar was the luxury for
which most craving was exhibited.
We pass on now to another month, September, whose early days ushered in
the tenth week of the captivity.
New mines were everywhere discovered. The British, officers and men,
attended sedulously to the underground listening-galleries adverted to
in a former paragraph, and there obtained unmistakable evidence that the
enemy were running mines towards Sago’s house, the Brigade Mess, the
Bailey guard, and other buildings, with the customary intent of blowing
them up, and making a forcible entry into the enclosure. Untiring
exertions at countermining alone frustrated these terrible operations.
On one day, the upper part of the Brigade Mess was smashed in by a shot;
on another, a breach was made in the wall of the Martinière temporary
school, requiring very speedy stockading and barricading to prevent the
entrance of the enemy; on another, a few engineers made a gallant sortie
from Innes’s house, and succeeded in blowing up a building from which
the enemy had maintained an annoying fire of musketry; and on another
day, an officer had the curiosity to count the cannon-balls, varying
from 3 to 24 pounds each, which had fallen on the roof of one building
alone, the Brigade Mess—they were no less than 280 in number! On the 5th
of the month, the enemy made a more than usually impetuous attack; there
were 5000 of them in sight from the Residency; they had formed a battery
on the other side of the river; they exploded two mines near the Bailey
guard and the mess-house; they advanced to Gubbins’s house and to the
Sikh Square, bringing with them long ladders to effect an escalade—in
short, they seemed determined to carry their point on this occasion. All
was in vain, however; the garrison, though worked almost to death,
gallantly rushed to every endangered spot and repelled the enemy,
hastily reconstructing such defence-works as had been destroyed or
damaged. Fortunately, the two exploded mines were short of their
intended distance: they wrought but little damage. Much marching and
countermarching were occasionally visible among the troops in the city:
vague rumours reached the Residency that Havelock had a second time
vanquished Nena Sahib’s troops at Cawnpore or Bithoor; but to what
extent these movements and rumours would influence the garrison was left
painfully undecided. The nights were more terrible than the days; for
the enemy, as if to destroy all chance of sleep, kept up a torrent of
musketry, accompanied by much shouting and screaming. Many of the
officers worked with almost superhuman energy at this time. Captains
Fulton and Anderson, Lieutenants Aitken, Clery, Innes, Hutchinson,
Tulloch, Birch, Hay, and others, were constantly on the watch for mines,
and sedulously digging countermines to foil them.
The eleventh week found the garrison more than ever exposed to hourly
peril. The officers, driven from place to place for their few hours of
repast and repose, had latterly messed in one of the buildings of the
Begum’s Kothee; this fact seemed to be well known to the rebels, who
were from the first better acquainted with what transpired inside the
fort than the garrison were with external affairs; they directed their
shells and balls so thickly on that spot, that ingress and egress were
equally difficult. Two sides of Innes’s house were blown in, and the
whole structure made little else than a heap of ruins; the Residency,
too, became so tottering, that renewed precautions had to be taken in
that quarter; new mines were perpetually discovered, directed to points
underneath the various buildings; and the enemy sought to increase their
means of annoyance by booming forth shells filled with abominable and
filthy compositions. Perhaps the most harassing troubles were owing to
the uncertainty of the time and place when active services would be
needed. The officers could not reckon upon a single minute of peace. ‘In
the midst of all these miseries,’ says Captain Anderson, ‘you would hear
the cry of “Turn out;” and you had to seize your musket and rush to your
post. Then there was a constant state of anxiety as to whether we were
mined or not; and we were not quite sure, whilst we were at a loophole,
that we might not suddenly see the ground open, or observe the whole
materials of the house fly into the air by the explosion of a mine.
Shells came smashing into our rooms, and dashed our property to pieces;
then followed round-shot, and down tumbled huge pieces of masonry, while
hits of wood and brick flew in all directions. I have seen beds
literally blown to atoms, and trunks and boxes completely smashed into
little bits.’ Nevertheless, there was no flinching in the garrison; if a
mine were discovered, a countermine was run out to frustrate it; if a
wall or a verandah were knocked down by shot, the débris was instantly
used to form a rampart, barricade, or stockade. On the 14th of the
month, a loss was incurred which caused grief throughout the garrison.
Captain Fulton, whose indomitable energy had won the admiration of all
in his duties as engineer, and whose kindness of manner had rendered him
a general favourite, was struck by a cannon-ball which took his head
completely off. Brigadier Inglis felt this loss sensitively, for Fulton
had been to him an invaluable aid in all his trials and difficulties.
Fulton, who was especially marked by his skill and promptness in
countermining, had succeeded Major Anderson as chief-engineer, and was
himself now succeeded by Captain Anderson.
The twelfth week, the last which the beleaguered English were destined
to suffer before the one which was to bring Havelock and Neill to
Lucknow, found them in great despondency. They had lately lost a number
of valuable officers. Lieutenant Birch fell; then M. Deprat, a merchant
who worked and fought most valiantly at the defences; then Captain
Cunliffe; and then Lieutenant Graham, whose mental firmness gave way
under privation, grief, and wounds, leading him to commit suicide. As a
natural consequence of these and similar losses, harder work than ever
pressed on those who remained alive. Never for a moment was the look-out
neglected. At all hours of the day and night, officers were posted on
the roofs of the Residency and the post-office, finding such shelter as
they could while watching intently the river, the bridges, the roads,
and the buildings in and around the city; every fact they observed,
serious in its apparent import, was at once reported to Brigadier
Inglis, who made such defensive arrangements as the circumstances made
desirable, and as his gradually lessened means rendered possible. What
were the sleepless nights thus added to harassing days for the
responsible guardian of the forlorn band, may to some extent be
conceived. The enemy’s batteries were now more numerous than ever. They
were constructed near the iron bridge; in a piece of open ground that
formerly comprised the Residency kitchen-garden; near a mosque by the
swampy ground on the river’s bank; in front of a range of buildings
called the Captan Bazaar; in the Taree Kothee opposite the Bailey guard;
near the clock-tower opposite the financial office; in a garden and
buildings opposite the judicial office and Anderson’s house; in numerous
buildings that bore upon the Cawnpore Battery and the Brigade Mess; in
fields and buildings that commanded Gubbins’s house; and in positions on
the northwest of the enclosure—in other words, the whole place was
surrounded by batteries bristling with mortars and great guns, some or
other of which were almost incessantly firing shot and shell into it.
And what, the reader may anxiously ask, was the domestic or personal
life of the inmates of the enclosure during these three weeks of
September? It was sad indeed—beyond the former sadness. If the men
toiled and watched in sultry dry weather, they were nearly overcome by
heat and noisome odours; if they slept in the trenches in damp nights
after great heat, they suffered terribly in their limbs and bones, for
they had neither tents nor change of clothing. Such was the state to
which the whole of the ground was brought, by refuse of every kind, that
a pool resulting from a shower of rain soon became an insupportable
nuisance; sanitary cleansings were unattainable by a community who had
neither surplus labour nor efficient drains at command. Half the
officers were ill at one time, from disease, over-fatigue, and
insufficient diet; and when they were thus laid prostrate, they had
neither medicines nor surgeons sufficient for their need. There was not
a sound roof in the whole place. On one day a cannon-ball entered at one
end of the largest room in the hospital, traversed the whole length, and
went out at the other—but, singular to relate, it did not hurt one human
being in the whole crowded apartment. In the commissariat department,
some of the bullocks yet remaining fell sick through privations, others
were shot; thereby lessening the reserve store, and adding to the
repulsive night-duties of the officers already adverted to. Of the few
native servants still remaining, hardly one now could be retained; and
the saving of their simple food was an inadequate counterbalance for the
loss of their assistance in drudgery labours. There were not, however,
wanting proofs of a fact abundantly illustrated in many walks of
life—the moral healthiness of useful employment. One of the ladies,
whose early weeks in the Residency had been weeks of misery, afterwards
wrote thus: ‘I now find every hour of the day fully occupied. It is a
great comfort to have so much to do, and to feel one’s self of some
little use; it helps one to keep up one’s spirits much better than would
otherwise be possible under the circumstances.’ The live-stock, the rum,
the porter, were all getting low; tea, sugar, coffee, and chocolate had
long disappeared from the rations. Such officers and civilians as had
money in their pockets, were willing to give almost any prices for the
few luxuries still remaining in private hands, in order that they might
in some degree alleviate the sufferings of their wives and children.
Forty shillings were eagerly given for a bottle of brandy; thirty-two
for a bottle of curaçoa; forty for a small fowl; sixteen shillings per
pound were offered, but offered in vain, for sugar; two shillings a
pound for coarse flour; ten shillings a pound for a little half-rancid
butter or ghee; tobacco, four shillings _a leaf_; a bottle of pickles,
forty shillings. Mr Rees sold a gold watch to a companion who had money
to spare, and with it purchased the luxury of smoking cigars at two
shillings each; but when those bits of rolled tobacco-leaf commanded
three rupees or six shillings each, he bade adieu to his last remaining
source of personal enjoyment. What any one _gave_, he gave out of kind
sympathy to his suffering companions; but what he _sold_, he sold in the
usual commercial spirit to the highest bidder. The attire was reduced to
the most piteous condition. Many of the officers had found much of their
clothing burned nearly four months earlier, during the mutiny at the
cantonment; and the troubles of June had prevented them from making
purchases in the city before the arrival of the day when they were all
alike to be shut up in the enclosure. As a consequence, their remaining
clothes wore away to rags, or something worse. There was scarcely a
vestige of a military uniform visible throughout the place. Officers
worked and fought, dined and slept, in shirt, trousers, and slippers;
one made himself a coat out of a billiard table-cloth; and another
contrived a sort of shirt out of a piece of floor-cloth. When the
trifling effects of one of the deceased officers came to be examined and
sold, a little underclothing was sought for with an eagerness which
sumptuous garments would not have excited; four pounds sterling were
given for a new flannel-shirt, and twelve pounds for five others which
had already rendered much service.
Joy, joy beyond expression rang through the enclosure when, on the 21st
of September, the rumour ran round that a messenger had arrived with
good news. Inglis had, a few days before, sent off a spy on the
often-tried but generally unsuccessful attempt to carry a small note
(enclosed in a quill); the peril had been great, but the man safely
returned with a small written reply from Havelock, announcing that
Outram and himself were on the road from Cawnpore, and expected to reach
Lucknow in three or four days. Hearts were filled to overflowing with
this announcement. Many wept for joy, some laughed and shouted, more
sank on their knees in thanksgiving, while the sick and wounded rose
from their pallets, as if wondrously strengthened by the glad tidings.
All worked hard and vigorously, in their respective ways, to prepare for
the struggle inevitable on any attempt of the two generals to penetrate
through the streets of the city; the inmates of the garrison could not,
it is true, leave their stronghold to join in the fight, but they might
possibly aid when the forlorn-hope was approaching the Bailey guard, the
probable place of entrance. The 22d passed over in hopes and fears,
expectations and preparations. On the 23d, musketry was heard on the
Cawnpore road, and much agitation was visible within the city. On the
next day, cannonading and musketry were again heard; and then were the
garrison rejoiced at seeing multitudes escaping out of the city, and
over the bridge to the other side of the river—rejoiced, because this
movement denoted success on the part of the advancing British.
The 25th arrived—the day of deliverance! Prodigious agitation and alarm
had marked the city all night: movements of men and horses, and all the
indications of a city in commotion. At noon, the increasing sounds told
that street-fighting was going on; those who went on the top of the
Residency for a look-out could see the smoke of musketry, but nothing
else. As the afternoon advanced, the sounds came nearer and nearer;[101]
then was heard the sharp crack of rifles; then was gradually perceived
the flash of musketry; and then the well-known uniforms of a friendly
hand. Outram and Havelock, when they had fought their way over the canal
by the Char Bagh Bridge (bridge of the ‘four gardens’), intended to have
taken the straight road to the Residency; but this road had been blocked
up by the enemy with guns, palisades, stockades, barricades, concealed
pits and trenches, and other obstacles. The two generals therefore
diverged to the right, marched along a by-road to the eastern part of
the city, and there fought their way through a continuous line of
streets to the Bailey guard entrance of the Residency enclosure,
suffering terribly as they went.[102] Great was the shout with which
they were welcomed, and warm the grasp with which Inglis thanked his
deliverers. ‘The immense enthusiasm,’ says Mr Rees, ‘with which they
were greeted defies description. As their hurrah and ours rang in my
ears, I was nigh bursting with joy.... We felt not only happy, happy
beyond imagination, and grateful to that God of mercy who, by our noble
deliverers, Havelock and Outram, and their gallant troops, had thus
snatched us from imminent death; but we also felt proud of the defence
we had made, and the success with which, with such fearful odds to
contend against, we had preserved, not only our own lives, but the
honour and lives of the women and children intrusted to our keeping. As
our deliverers poured in, they continued to greet us with loud
hurrahs.... We ran up to them, officers and men without distinction, and
shook them by the hands—how cordially, who can describe? The shrill
notes of the Highlanders’ bagpipes now pierced our ears. Not the most
beautiful music ever was more welcome, more joy-bringing. And these
brave men themselves, many of them bloody and exhausted, forgot the loss
of their comrades, the pain of their wounds, the fatigue of overcoming
the fearful obstacles they had combated for our sakes, in the pleasure
of having accomplished our relief.’ What the women felt on this day, the
_Lady’s Diary_ will tell us. ‘Never shall I forget the moment to the
latest day I live. It was most overpowering. We had no idea they were so
near, and were breathing air in the portico as usual at that hour,
speculating when they might be in—not expecting they could reach us for
several days longer; when suddenly, just at dark, we heard a very sharp
fire of musketry close by, and then a tremendous cheering. An instant
after, the sound of bagpipes, then soldiers running up the road, our
compound and verandah filled with our deliverers, and all of us shaking
hands franticly, and exchanging fervent “God bless you’s!” with the
gallant men and officers of the 78th Highlanders. Sir James Outram and
staff were the next to come in, and the state of joyful confusion and
excitement was beyond all description. The big, rough-bearded soldiers
were seizing the little children out of our arms, kissing them with
tears rolling down their cheeks, and thanking God they had come in time
to save them from the fate of those at Cawnpore. We were all rushing
about to give the poor fellows drinks of water, for they were perfectly
exhausted; and tea was made down in the Tye Khana, of which a large
party of tired, thirsty officers partook, without milk or sugar; we had
nothing to give them to eat. Every one’s tongue seemed going at once
with so much to ask and to tell; and the faces of utter strangers beamed
upon each other like those of dearest friends and brothers.’
After a night, in which joy kept many awake whom fatigue would have else
sent into a deep sleep, the dawn of the 26th ushered in a day in which
there was again to be much severe fighting; for some of Havelock’s
heroic little band had been left in palatial buildings outside the
Residency enclosure, which they managed to hold during the night. To
succour these comrades, to bring in the guns which they had guarded, and
to obtain firm possession of the buildings, were objects that required
great exertion and daring courage. The attempt succeeded. The palaces of
Fureed Buksh and Taree Kothee were conquered from the enemy, and formed
into new intrenched positions, which greatly relieved the overcrowded
Residency. When the further conquest of the Chuttur Munzil palace and
other buildings near the river-side had been effected, the position held
by the British was thrice as large in area as that which Brigadier
Inglis had so long and so gallantly defended. It lay along the
river-bank for a considerable distance; while on the other side it was
bounded by a dense mass of the streets constituting the main portion of
the city.
One of the results of Havelock and Outram’s advance was the capture of
an important outpost. At a spot three or four miles out of Lucknow, near
the new road from Cawnpore, was the Alum Bagh, the ‘garden of the Lady
Alum or beauty of the world.’ It comprised several buildings, including
a palace, a mosque, and an emambarra or private temple, bounded by a
beautiful garden, which was itself in the middle of a park, and the park
enclosed in a wall with corner towers. There was abundant space within
it for a large military force, and it was susceptible of being made a
stronghold if the defences were well maintained. Havelock, on his
advance from Cawnpore, found the enemy drawn up in considerable
strength, within and without the wall of the Alum Bagh; and it was only
after a hot and fierce contest that he could capture the place. He
encamped there on the night of the 23d, and had to bear many attacks
from the enemy near the same spot on the 24th. On the 25th he advanced
to Lucknow, and maintained the sanguinary street-fight already noticed.
The Alum Bagh was too important a place to be abandoned when once
conquered. Havelock left there the baggage, ammunition, sick, and
wounded, of his relieving force; with 300 men to protect them, and an
immense array of elephants, camels, horses, camp-followers, and laden
carts; and with four guns to aid in the defence. No one for an instant
supposed that that detachment would be left there without further aid.
Havelock and his men fully expected, that, Lucknow once conquered, the
Alum Bagh would simply be one of the strongholds of his position with
which he could communicate when he pleased. Little did he look forward
to the state of things actually produced, when the occupants of the Alum
Bagh were so completely isolated from the British in the city, that they
could not send even a message, unless by good-fortune a _kossid_ or
native messenger succeeded in conveying, in a quill or in the sole of
his shoe, a brief letter from the one place to the other.
This isolated position of the little garrison at Alum Bagh was,
moreover, only one among many grave subjects that speedily presented
themselves for consideration. After the first outburst of thankfulness
at the arrival of the welcome deliverers, the residents in the Lucknow
intrenchment had to ask themselves to what extent it was really a
deliverance. Then did they find that, in effect, they were as close
prisoners as ever. Havelock had lost nearly one-third of his small force
during the desperate encounters of the past few days; and those who
survived were far too weak for any considerable military operations. The
one great, absorbing, sacred, deeply earnest object he had all along
held in view, was to save his fellow-countrymen, their wives and
children, from horrors such as had been perpetrated at Cawnpore. To his
dying day he remained deeply grateful that he had been permitted to
effect this; but what more could he do? Could he remain a conqueror in
Lucknow, or could he bring away from that city all those who for four
months had been exposed to such peril! He could do neither the one nor
the other. The result of the fighting on the 25th and 26th of September
had given to him the command of a larger portion of the city than the
Residency enclosure, which had been so long and so gallantly maintained
by Inglis; but he could neither gain another inch without struggling for
it, nor retain the portion already acquired without incessant
watchfulness and assiduity. Nor could he make the Residency and the Alum
Bagh component parts of one great stronghold, seeing that the British
were alike besieged in the one and the other, and could not hold
intercommunication. Nor could he send the women and children to
Allahabad or any other place of safety; they would all have been cut to
pieces on the road, so small was the escort he could afford, and so
overwhelming the force of the enemy. The whole of the immediate benefit
consisted in an increase in the number of British for the defence-works;
but as these hard-working and hard-fighting troops brought little or no
supplies further than the Alum Bagh, there was an increase rather in the
number of mouths to be fed than in the means of feeding them. The
disappointment of Inglis’s garrison, after the first joy had passed, was
very severe. Captivity and short commons were still to be their lot.
Many councils of war were held, to determine what should be done. A
party of volunteer cavalry on one day set out with the intention of
cutting their way to the Alum Bagh, and perhaps to Cawnpore, to seek for
reinforcements and to give notice of the exact state of affairs; but
they were driven back almost immediately, by a body of rebels too large
to be resisted. Sir James Outram sought to ascertain whether any of the
influential natives in the city were disposed, by tempting offers, to
render him and his companions aid in their difficulties; but here in
like manner failure resulted. The scene was very miserable until
something like order could be restored. The poor fellows who had fallen
on the 25th and 26th had been brought into the intrenchment, some to be
buried, some to be healed if possible. The authoress of the _Lady’s
Diary_ said: ‘The hospital is so densely crowded, that many have to lie
outside in the open air, without bed or shelter. —— says he never saw
such a heart-sickening scene. It is far worse than that after
Chinhut—amputated arms and legs lying about in heaps all over the
hospital, and the crowd and confusion such that little can be done to
alleviate the intense discomfort and pain of the poor sufferers.’
It might be interesting to surviving friends, but would be tedious to
general readers, to present here a list of all the persons mentioned by
name in Brigadier Inglis’s dispatch as having distinguished themselves
in this most gallant struggle. They amount to about ninety in number.
Indeed, it may well be supposed that at such a time every soldier worthy
of the name, every civilian with a drop of honest blood in him, would
achieve things of which, at another time, he would scarcely deem himself
capable. Not only British; for Captain Anderson mentions two gentlemen
of foreign birth, a Frenchman and an Italian, who, shut up like the rest
in the intrenchment, fought and worked as untiringly as their
companions. In a foot-note we give the names of officers mentioned by
Brigadier Inglis as having died during the siege;[103] and in another,
of those who commanded eleven of the outposts or ‘garrisons,’ those
fortified houses which were defended in so extraordinary a way.[104] Of
all these he had a kindly word to say; as well as of the artillery and
engineer officers, the infantry officers, the officers of the staff, the
surgeons and the chaplains, the commissariat-officers, the
gentlemen-volunteers, the humble rank and file, and the ladies who
became the ‘Florence Nightingales’ of the garrison. Nothing, perhaps, in
the whole course of the siege, was more remarkable than the conduct of
the native troops. It will be remembered that when three native infantry
regiments mutinied at the cantonment on the 30th of May, some of the
sepoys in each remained faithful. This select band shared all the
labours and sufferings of the British during the siege. With scanty
food, little and broken sleep, harassing exertions, daily fightings,
they remained steadfast to the last. Though sorely tempted by the
mutineers, who would often converse with them over the palisades of the
intrenchment, they never flinched from their duty. What they were on the
30th of May, they were on the 25th of September, soldiers ‘true to their
salt.’ Few things are more embarrassing, in taking an estimate of the
causes and progress of the Revolt, than to meet with such anomalies as
this. Explain it how we may, it would be gross injustice to withhold
from such men a tribute of admiration for their fidelity at so trying a
time. May there not have been something of a moral grandeur, a sublimity
of heroism, in the conduct of the devoted garrison, that touched the
hearts of these sepoys, and appealed to their better nature?
Viscount Canning did not fail to give an official recognition of the
merits of those who had made this glorious defence. In an ‘Order in
Council,’ issued at Calcutta, after adverting to the receipt of a
military account of the proceedings from Brigadier Inglis, his lordship
said:
‘The governor-general in council believes that never has a tale been
told which will so stir the hearts of Englishmen and Englishwomen....
There does not stand recorded in the annals of war an achievement more
truly heroic than the defence of the Residency at Lucknow. That defence
has not only called forth all the energy and daring which belong to
Englishmen in the hour of active conflict, but it has exhibited
continuously, and in the highest degree, that noble and sustained
courage which against enormous odds and fearful disadvantages, against
hope deferred, and through increasing toil and wear of body and mind,
still holds on day after day, and triumphs. The heavy guns of the
assailants, posted almost in security within fifty yards of the
intrenchments—so near, indeed, that the solicitations, threats, and
taunts which the rebels addressed to the native defenders of the
garrison were easily heard by those true-hearted men; the fire of the
enemy’s musketry, so searching that it penetrated the innermost retreat
of the women and children and of the wounded; their desperate attempts,
repeatedly made, to force an entry after blowing in the defences; the
perpetual mining of the works; the weary night-watching for the expected
signal of relief; and the steady waste of precious lives until the
number of English gunners was reduced below that of the guns to be
worked—all these constitute features in a history which the
fellow-countrymen of the heroes of Lucknow will read with swelling
hearts, and which will endure for ever as a lesson to those who shall
hope, by treachery, numbers, or boldness in their treason, to overcome
the indomitable spirit of Englishmen.’
The officer who so nobly held the command after Lawrence and Banks
had been stricken down by death, well earned the honours which the
Queen afterwards conferred upon him. He entered Lucknow as a
lieutenant-colonel; he left it as Major-general Sir John Eardley
Wilmot Inglis, K.C.B. Promotion in various ways awaited many of
the other officers; but the immediate recognition by the
governor-general of the services rendered by the garrison was
embodied in the following general order: ‘Every officer and
soldier, European and native, who has formed part of the garrison
of the Residency between the 29th of June and the 25th of
September last shall receive six months’ batta. Every civilian in
the covenanted service of the East India Company who has taken
part in the defence of the Residency within the above-named dates
shall receive six months’ batta, at a rate calculated according to
the military rank with which his standing corresponds. Every
uncovenanted civil officer or volunteer who has taken a like part
shall receive six months’ batta, at a rate to be fixed according
to the functions and position which may have been assigned to him.
Every native commissioned and non-commissioned officer and soldier
who has formed part of the garrison shall receive the Order of
Merit, with the increase of pay attached thereto, and shall be
permitted to count three years of additional service. The soldiers
of the 13th, 48th, and 71st regiments native infantry, who have
been part of the garrison, shall be formed into a regiment of the
line, to be called “the Regiment of Lucknow,” the further
constitution of which, as regards officers and men, will be
notified hereafter.’
What was done at Lucknow during October and November must be recorded in
a future chapter. While Outram, Havelock, and Inglis were maintaining
themselves, by indomitable resolution, in the Residency and the Alum
Bagh, Sir Colin Campbell was collecting a force adequate, if not to the
actual reconquest of Lucknow, at least to the rescue of all the British
of every class residing in that hateful city. Those two concurrent lines
of proceeding will be treated in intimate connection, a few pages on.
Note.
_Brigadier Inglis’s Dispatch._—In order that the narrative contained
in the foregoing chapter might not be interrupted by too many
extracts from official documents, little has been said of the report
which Brigadier Inglis drew up of the siege soon after the arrival
of Outram and Havelock. So vividly, however, and in all respects so
worthily, did that report or dispatch portray the trying
difficulties of the position, and the heroic conduct of the
garrison, that it may be well to give a portion of it in this place.
‘The right honourable the governor-general in council will feel that
it would be impossible to crowd within the limits of a dispatch even
the principal events, much less the individual acts of gallantry,
which have marked this protracted struggle. But I can
conscientiously declare my conviction, that few troops have ever
undergone greater hardships, exposed as they have been to a
never-ceasing musketry-fire and cannonade. They have also
experienced the alternate vicissitudes of extreme wet and of intense
heat, and that, too, with very insufficient shelter from either, and
in many places without any shelter at all. In addition to having had
to repel real attacks, they have been exposed night and day to the
hardly less harassing false alarms which the enemy have been
constantly raising. The insurgents have frequently fired very
heavily, sounded the advance, and shouted for several hours
together, though not a man could be seen: with the view, of course,
of harassing our small and exhausted force. In this object they
succeeded, for no part has been strong enough to allow of a portion
only of the garrison being prepared in the event of a false attack
being turned into a real one; all, therefore, had to stand to their
arms and to remain at their posts until the demonstration had
ceased; and such attacks were of almost nightly occurrence. The
whole of the officers and men have been on duty night and day during
the 87 days which the siege had lasted up to the arrival of Sir J.
Outram, G.C.B. In addition to this incessant military duty, the
force has been nightly employed in repairing defences, in moving
guns, in burying dead animals, in conveying ammunition and
commissariat stores from one place to another, and in other
fatigue-duties too numerous and too trivial to enumerate here. I
feel, however, that any words of mine will fail to convey any
adequate idea of what the fatigue and labours have been—labours in
which all ranks and all classes, civilians, officers, and soldiers,
have all borne an equally noble part. All have together descended
into the mine, and have together handled the shovel for the
interment of the putrid bullocks; and all, accoutred with musket and
bayonet, have relieved each other on sentry without regard to the
distinctions of rank, civil or military. Notwithstanding all these
hardships, the garrison has made no less than five sorties, in which
they spiked two of the enemy’s heaviest guns, and blew up several of
the houses from which they had kept up their most harassing fire.
Owing to the extreme paucity of our numbers, each man was taught to
feel that on his own individual efforts alone depended in no small
measure the safety of the entire position. This consciousness
incited every officer, soldier, and man, to defend the post assigned
to him with such desperate tenacity, and to fight for the lives
which Providence had intrusted to his care with such dauntless
determination, that the enemy, despite their constant attacks, their
heavy mines, their overwhelming numbers, and their incessant fire,
could never succeed in gaining one single inch of ground within the
bounds of this straggling position, which was so feebly fortified,
that had they once obtained a footing in any of the outposts the
whole place must inevitably have fallen.
‘If further proof be wanting of the desperate nature of the struggle
which we have, under God’s blessing, so long and so successfully
waged, I would point to the roofless and ruined houses, to the
crumbled walls, to the exploded mines, to the open breaches, to the
shattered and disabled guns and defences, and lastly, to the long
and melancholy list of the brave and devoted officers and men who
have fallen. These silent witnesses bear sad and solemn testimony to
the way in which this feeble position has been defended.
‘During the early part of these vicissitudes, we were left without
any information whatever regarding the posture of affairs outside.
An occasional spy did indeed come in with the object of inducing our
sepoys and servants to desert; but the intelligence derived from
such sources was, of course, entirely untrustworthy. We sent our
messengers, daily calling for aid, and asking for information, none
of whom ever returned until the 26th day of the siege; when a
pensioner named Ungud came back with a letter from General
Havelock’s camp, informing us that they were advancing with a force
sufficient to bear down all opposition, and would be with us in five
or six days. A messenger was immediately despatched, requesting that
on the evening of their arrival on the outskirts of the city two
rockets might be sent up, in order that we might take the necessary
measures for assisting them while forcing their way in. The sixth
day, however, expired, and they came not; but for many evenings
after, officers and men watched for the ascension of the expected
rockets, with hopes such as make the heart sick. We knew not then,
nor did we learn until the 29th of August—or 35 days later—that the
relieving force, after having fought most nobly to effect our
deliverance, had been obliged to fall back for reinforcements; and
this was the last communication we received until two days before
the arrival of Sir James Outram, on the 25th of September.
‘Besides heavy visitations of cholera and small-pox, we have also
had to contend against a sickness which has almost universally
pervaded the garrison. Commencing with a very painful eruption, it
has merged into a low fever, combined with diarrhœa; and although
few or no men have actually died from its effects, it leaves behind
a weakness and lassitude which, in the absence of all material
sustenance, save coarse beef, and still coarser flour, none have
been able entirely to get over. The mortality among the women and
children, and especially among the latter, from these diseases and
from other causes, has been perhaps the most painful characteristic
of the siege. The want of native servants has also been a source of
much privation. Owing to the suddenness with which we were besieged,
many of these people, who might perhaps have otherwise proved
faithful to their employers, but who were outside the defences at
the time, were altogether excluded. Very many more deserted, and
several families were consequently left without the services of a
single domestic. Several ladies have had to tend their children, and
even to wash their own clothes, as well as to cook their scanty
meals, entirely unaided. Combined with the absence of servants, the
want of proper accommodation has probably been the cause of much of
the disease with which we have been afflicted.
‘I cannot refrain from bringing to the prominent notice of his
lordship in council the patient endurance and the Christian
resignation which have been evinced by the women of this garrison.
They have animated us by their example. Many, alas! have been made
widows and their children fatherless in this cruel struggle. But all
such seem resigned to the will of Providence; and many—among whom
may be mentioned the honoured names of Birch, of Polehampton, of
Barbor, and of Gall—have, after the example of Miss Nightingale,
constituted themselves the tender and solicitous nurses of the
wounded and dying soldiers in the hospital.’
[After enumerating the officers and civilians who had wrought
untiringly in the good cause, Brigadier Inglis did ample justice to
the humbler combatants.]
‘Lastly, I have the pleasure of bringing the splendid behaviour of
the soldiers—namely, the men of her Majesty’s 32d foot, the small
detachment of her Majesty’s 84th foot, the European and native
artillery, the 13th, 48th, and 71st regiments of native infantry,
and the Sikhs of the respective corps—to the notice of the
government of India. The losses sustained by her Majesty’s 32d,
which is now barely 300 strong, by her Majesty’s 84th, and by the
European artillery, shew at least that they knew how to die in the
cause of their countrymen. Their conduct under the fire, the
exposure, and the privations which they have had to undergo, has
been throughout most admirable and praiseworthy.
‘As another instance of the desperate character of our defence, and
the difficulties we have had to contend with, I may mention that the
number of our artillerymen was so reduced, that on the occasion of
an attack, the gunners, aided as they were by men of her Majesty’s
32d foot, and by volunteers of all classes, had to run from one
battery to another wherever the fire of the enemy was hottest, there
not being nearly enough men to serve half the number of guns at the
same time. In short, at last the number of European gunners was only
24, while we had, including mortars, no less than 30 guns in
position.
‘With respect to the native troops, I am of opinion that their
loyalty has never been surpassed. They were indifferently fed and
worse housed. They were exposed, especially the 13th regiment, under
the gallant Lieutenant Aitken, to a most galling fire of round-shot
and musketry, which materially decreased their numbers. They were so
near the enemy that conversation could be carried on between them;
and every effort, persuasion, promise, and threat, was alternately
resorted to in vain to seduce them from their allegiance to the
handful of Europeans, who, in all probability, would have been
sacrificed by their desertion.’
-----
Footnote 94:
Chap. vi., pp. 82-96. Chap. x., pp. 163-165. Chap, xv., pp. 247-263.
Footnote 95:
General staff, 9
Brigade staff, 5
Artillery, 9
Engineers, 3
H.M. 32d foot, 22
H.M. 84th foot, 2
7th Bengal native cavalry, 13
13th Bengal native infantry, 10
41st Bengal native infantry, 11
48th Bengal native infantry, 14
71st Bengal native infantry, 11
Oude brigade, 26
Various officers, 9
Civil service, 9
Surgeons, 2
Chaplains, 2
Ladies, 69
Ladies, children of, 68
Other women, 171
Other women, children of, 196
Uncovenanted servants, 125
Martinière school, 8
———
794
Another account gave the number 865, including about 50 native
children in the Martinière school.
Footnote 96:
_Personal Narrative of the Siege of Lucknow, from its Commencement to
its Relief._ By L. E. Ruutz Rees, one or the Survivors.
_A Lady’s Diary of the Siege of Lucknow, written for the Perusal of
Friends at Home._
_A Personal Journal of the Siege of Lucknow._ By Captain R. P.
Anderson, 25th Regiment N. I., commanding an outpost.
_The Defence of Lucknow: a Diary recording the Daily Events during the
Siege of the European Residency._ By a Staff-officer.
Footnote 97:
In a former chapter (p. 84), a brief notice is given of Claude
Martine, a French adventurer who rose to great wealth and influence at
Lucknow, and who lived in a fantastic palace called Constantia,
southeastward of the city. His name will, however, be more favourably
held in remembrance as the founder of a college, named by him the
Martinière, for Eurasian or half-caste children. This college was
situated near the eastern extremity of the city; but when the troubles
began, the principals and the children removed to a building hastily
set apart for them within the Residency enclosure. The authoress of
the _Lady’s Diary_, whose husband was connected as a pastor with the
Martinière, thus speaks of this transfer: ‘The Martinière is
abandoned, and I suppose we shall lose all our remaining property,
which we have been obliged to leave to its fate, as nothing more can
be brought in here. We got our small remnant of clothes; but
furniture, harp, books, carriage-horses, &c., are left at the
Martinière. The poor boys are all stowed away in a hot close native
building, and it will be a wonder if they don’t get ill.’
Footnote 98:
The wood-cut at p. 93 represents a part of the Residency in this
limited sense of the term; the view at p. 82 will convey some notion
of the appearance of the city of Lucknow as seen from the terrace-roof
of this building. The plan on next page will give an idea of the
Residency before siege; and in the next Part will be given a plan of
the Residency under siege, shewing the relation which the enemies’
guns bore to those of the besieged.
Footnote 99:
Mr Rees relates a strange anecdote in connection with this retreat
from the Muchee Bhowan to the Residency: ‘We saved all but one man,
who, having been intoxicated, and concealed in some corner, could not
be found when the muster-roll was called. The French say, _Il y a un
Dieu pour les ivrognes_; and the truth of the proverb was never better
exemplified than in this man’s case. He had been thrown into the air,
had returned unhurt to mother-earth, continued his drunken sleep
again, had awaked next morning, found the fort to his surprise a mass
of deserted ruins, and quietly walked back to the Residency without
being molested by a soul; and even bringing with him a pair of
bullocks attached to a cart of ammunition. It is very probable that
the débris of these extensive buildings must have seriously injured
the adjacent houses and many of the rebel army—thus giving the
fortunate man the means of escaping.
Footnote 100:
The authoress of the _Lady’s Diary_ gives an affecting account of the
hour that succeeded the wounding of Sir Henry Lawrence. She, with her
husband, was at that time in the house of Dr Fayrer, a surgeon who had
more than once urged upon Sir Henry the paramount duty of cherishing
his own life as one valuable to others even if slighted by himself.
‘He was brought over to this house immediately. —— prayed with him,
and administered the Holy Communion to him. He was quite sensible,
though his agony was extreme. He spoke for nearly an hour, quite
calmly, expressing his last wishes with regard to his children. He
sent affectionate messages to them and to each of his brothers and
sisters. He particularly mentioned the Lawrence Asylum, and entreated
that government might be urged to give it support. He bade farewell to
all the gentlemen who were standing round his bed, and said a few
words of advice and kindness to each.... There was not a dry eye
there; every one was so deeply affected and grieved at the loss of
such a man.’
It may here be stated that the Queen afterwards bestowed a baronetcy
on Sir Henry’s eldest son, Alexander Lawrence; to whom also the East
India Company voted a pension of £1000 per annum.
Footnote 101:
The _Jersey Times_ of December 10, 1857, contained what professed to
be an extract of a letter from M. de Bannerol, a French physician in
the service of Mussur Rajah, dated October 8, and published in _Le
Pays_ (Paris paper), giving an account of the feelings of the
Christian women shut up within Lucknow just before their relief. It
went on to state how Jessie Brown, a corporal’s wife, cheered the
party in the depth of their terrors and despair, by starting up and
declaring that, amidst the roar of the artillery, she caught the faint
sound of the _slogan_ of the approaching Highlanders, particularly
that of the Macgregor, ‘the grandest of them a’!’ The soldiers
intermitted firing to listen, but could hear nothing of the kind, and
despair once more settled down upon the party. After a little
interval, Jessie broke out once more with words of hope, referring to
the sound of the Highland bagpipes, which the party at length
acknowledged they heard; and then by one impulse, all fell on their
knees, ‘and nothing was heard but the bursting sob and the voice of
prayer.’ The tale has made so great an impression on the public mind,
that we feel much reluctance in expressing our belief that it is
either wholly a fiction, or only based slightly in fact. What excited
our distrust from the first was the allusion to the slogans or
war-cries of the respective clans—things which have had no practical
existence for centuries, and which would manifestly be inappropriate
in regiments composed of a miscellany of clansmen, not to speak of the
large admixture of Lowlanders. We are assured that the story is looked
upon in the best-informed quarters as purely a tale of the
imagination.
Footnote 102:
See chap. xv., p. 263.
Footnote 103:
Sir Henry Lawrence; Major Banks; Lieutenant-colonel Case, Captains
Steevens, Mansfield, Radcliffe, and M’Cabe, 32d foot; Captain Francis,
13th N. I.; Lieutenants Shepherd and Archer, 7th native cavalry;
Captain Hughes, 57th N. I.; Major Anderson and Captain Fulton,
engineers; Captain Simons, artillery.
Footnote 104:
Colonel Master and Captain Boileau, 7th N.C.; Major Apthorp and
Captain Sanders, 41st N.I.; Captain Germon and Lieutenants Aitken and
Loughnan, 13th N.I.; Captain Anderson, 25th N.I.; Lieutenant Graydon,
44th N.I.; Lieutenant Longmore, 71st N.I.; Mr Schilling, principal of
the Martinière College.
[Illustration:
MR COLVIN, Lieutenant-governor of Northwest Provinces.
]
CHAPTER XX.
MINOR CONFLICTS: SEPTEMBER AND OCTOBER.
Leaving for a while the affairs of Lucknow—which by the progress of
events had become far more important than those of Delhi or of any other
city in India—we may conveniently devote the present chapter to a rapid
glance at the general state of affairs during the months of September
and October: noticing only such scenes of discord, and such military
operations, as arose immediately out of the Revolt. The subject may be
treated in the same style as in Chapter xvii., relating to the months of
July and August, but more briefly; for, in truth, so few Bengal native
regiments now remained ‘true to their salt,’ that the materials for
further mutiny were almost exhausted.
Of Calcutta, and the region around it on all sides, little need be said.
Mutiny in that neighbourhood would not have been easy during the autumn
months; for British troops were gradually arriving, who would speedily
have put down any rebellious risings. Sometimes alarms agitated the
civilians and traders in the city; but nothing really serious called for
notice. The ex-king of Oude continued to be watched carefully at
Calcutta. Whatever honeyed phrases may have been used to render his
detention more palatable, none of the government officers placed any
reliance on his fidelity or peacefulness. In truth, if he _had_
displayed those qualities, after being compelled to witness the
annexation of his country to the British raj, he would have been
something more (or less) than oriental. At various times during the
summer and autumn months, scrutinising inquiries were made into the
conduct of the king and his retainers. Thus, on the 16th of August, a
person who had for some time resided at Calcutta, under the assumed
title of Bishop of Bagdad, but whose real name was Syed Hossein Shubber,
was with five others arrested, for complicity in plots affecting the
British government; and, consequent on papers discovered, three
retainers of the king were arrested about a week afterwards. The
government kept secret the details of these affairs, pending further
inquiry; but it was apparent enough that mischief was fermenting in the
minds of the royal prisoner’s retainers. Unquestionably many natives
sincerely believed the king to have been an ill-used man—an opinion
shared also by many Europeans—and they did not deem it treason to aid
him in his misfortunes.
Much to the vexation of the government, the district of Assam, little
known to Europeans except as a region where tea is experimentally grown,
was drawn into the vortex of trouble early in September. Many of the
sepoys of the 1st Assam native infantry came from the neighbourhood of
Arrah, and were closely related to one regiment (the 40th) of the
Dinapoor mutineers; while others were from the estates of Koer Singh.
When, therefore, the news of the Dinapoor mutiny became known, the Assam
regiment was thrown into much agitation. There was a rajah in Assam, one
Saring Kunderpessawar Singh, who secretly engaged in treasonable
correspondence, and who received offers of support from the Arrah men of
the Assam regiment, if he would openly break with the British. There
were also Hindustanis in the 2d Assam native regiment; while the
artillery companies at Debrooghur were entirely Hindustanis. It was
known likewise that many of the neighbouring tribes were in a
disaffected state, and that a religious mendicant was rapidly moving
about with some secret but apparently mischievous purpose. By degrees a
plot was discovered. The conspirators planned on a given day to murder
all the Christians in Assam, and then plunder the stations. Fortunately
this project was known in time. The Calcutta government having no
soldiers to spare, organised a force of English seamen, trained as
gunners, and sent them by a steamer up the Brahmaputra to Debrooghur, to
be employed as the local authorities might deem advisable. One of the
circumstances connected with this movement illustrates the antagonism
between governing authorities and newspaper writers on military
matters—an antagonism frequently felt during the Indian Revolt as during
the Russian war. A responsible leader wishes to keep his plans of
strategy secret from the enemy; a newspaper writer wishes to give as
much news as possible on all subjects; and these two modes of
procedure do not always flow in harmonious concord. Mr Halliday,
lieutenant-governor of Bengal, in reporting on this Assam affair, said:
‘The utmost care was taken to despatch the force to Assam with the
secrecy necessary to prevent its destination being known; but it is
feared that this intention has been frustrated by the ill-judged
publication of the departure of the steamer, and notification of its
objects, by the Calcutta papers. It is hoped that this injudicious
proceeding may not be attended with the serious results that would ensue
from a revolt in the province in its present unprotected state. Such an
untoward contingency was feared by the officers in Assam, who pointed
out the urgent necessity of extreme care being observed in preventing
the promulgation of the transmission, before its arrival, of any
European force that might be sent; lest the knowledge of the approach of
aid should cause a premature explosion of the expected revolt.’ The
force consisted of 100 armed sailors, with two 12-pounder guns; they set
out on the 11th of September, under the charge of Lieutenant Davies, in
the steamer _Horungotta_; and were to be at the disposal of Colonel
Jenkins on arriving in Assam. As a curious example of the different
light in which different tribes were at this time viewed, it may be
stated that all the men of the 1st Assam infantry who were _not_
Hindustanis were called in from the outposts to Debrooghur, as a
protection in case the remainder of the regiment should mutiny. Captain
Lowther, commanding a corps of Goorkhas, was sent from another station
to capture the rajah; this he managed admirably, and in so doing,
effectually crushed the incipient mutiny. The captain, in a private
letter, told in excellent style the story of his expedition; from which
we will extract so much as relates to the night-scene in the rajah’s
palace at Debrooghur.[105]
Some weeks afterwards, towards the close of October, Mr Halliday
entertained much distrust of the 73d Bengal native infantry, of which
two companies were at Dacca, and the main body at Jelpigoree, near the
Bhotan frontier. By precautionary measures, however, he prevented for a
time any actual outbreak of this particular regiment.
There were reasons why the towns on the banks of the Lower Ganges
remained tolerably free from rebellion during the months now under
notice. English regiments, in wings or detachments, were sent up the
river in flats tugged by steamers, from Calcutta towards Upper India;
and the turbulent rabble of the towns were awed into quietness by the
vicinity of these red-coats. Berhampore, Moorshedabad, Rajmahal,
Bhagulpore, Monghir, Patna, Dinapoor, Buxar, Ghazeepore, Benares,
Mirzapore—all felt the benefit of this occasional passing of British
troops along the Ganges, in the moral effect produced on the natives.
True, the arrivals at Calcutta were few and far apart until October was
well advanced; true, many of the troops were sent by land along the main
trunk-road, for greater expedition; true, those who went by water were
too urgently needed in the Doab and in Oude to be spared for
intermediate service at the towns above named; but, nevertheless, the
mere transit of a few English regiments effected much towards the
tranquillising of Bengal. Early in the month of August, Lord Elgin had
come to Calcutta, and placed at the disposal of Lord Canning two
war-steamers, the _Shannon_ and the _Pearl_; and from among the
resources of these steamers was organised a splendid naval brigade,
consisting of 400 able British seamen, and no less than ten of the
enormous 68-pounder guns which such seamen know so well how to handle.
They started from Calcutta up the Hoogly and the Ganges, under the
command of Captain Peel, who had so gallantly managed a naval-battery in
the Crimea during the siege of Sebastopol. If such a man could fret, he
would have fretted at the slowness of his voyage. Week after week
elapsed, without his reaching those districts where his services would
be invaluable. Half of August and the whole of September thus passed
wearily away in this most tedious voyage. The upward passage is always
tardy, against the stream; and his ponderous artillery rendered slowness
still more slow. It was not until the 30th of September that he, with
286 men of his brigade, arrived at Benares. Hastening on, he arrived
with 94 men at Allahabad on the 3d of October; and four days afterwards
the rest joined him, with their enormous guns and store of ammunition. A
small naval brigade, under Captain Sotheby, was placed at the disposal
of the Patna authorities, to be used against certain insurgents in the
neighbourhood.
The portion of Bengal north of the Ganges was almost entirely free from
disturbance during these two months; but the parallel portion of Behar
was in a very different state. The actual mutinies there had been few in
number, for in truth there had not been many native troops quartered in
that region; but the rebellious chieftains and zemindars were many, each
of whom could command the services of a body of retainers ready for any
mischief. Patna, in September, as in earlier months, was disturbed
rather by anarchy in other regions than by actual mutinies within the
city itself. In what way the Dinapoor troubles affected it, we have seen
in an earlier chapter. Its present difficulties lay rather with the
districts north and northwest of the city, where the revenue collectors
had been driven from place to place by mutinous sepoys, and by petty
chieftains who wished to strengthen themselves at the expense of the
English ‘raj.’ The abandonment of Goruckpore by the officials, in a
moment of fright, had had the effect of exposing the Chupra, Chumparun,
and Mozufferpoor districts to the attacks of rebels, especially such as
had placed themselves under the banner of the Mussulman chieftain
Mahomed Hussein Khan, the self-appointed ‘ruler in the name and on
behalf of the King of Oude.’ This man had collected a considerable
force, and had organised a species of government at Goruckpore. The
military power in the hands of the Company’s servants in the Chupra and
Tirhoot districts consisted chiefly of a few Sikhs of the police
battalion, quite unequal to the resistance of an incursion by Mahomed
Hussein. The civilians of those districts sent urgent applications to
Patna for military aid. But how could this be furnished? Troops and
artillery were so imperatively demanded at Cawnpore, to aid the
operations at Lucknow, that none could be detained on their passage up
the river; the Dinapoor garrison, reduced by the mutiny and its
consequences, could only spare a few troops for Patna itself; the troops
going up the main trunk-road from Calcutta to Upper India could barely
afford time and strength to encounter the Ramgurh insurgents, without
attempting anything north of the Ganges. There happened, however, to be
a Madras regiment passing up by steamer to Allahabad; and permission was
obtained to detain a portion of this regiment for service in the
Goruckpore region; while the Rajahs of Bettiah and Hutwah were
encouraged to maintain a friendly attitude in support of the British
authorities. The rebel or rather rabble forces under Mahomed Hussein
were ill armed and worse disciplined; and it was probable that a few men
of the 17th M. N. I., with a few Sikhs, could have beaten them at any
time; but it was felt necessary to reoccupy Goruckpore at once, to
prevent the neighbouring zemindars and thalookdars from joining the
malcontents.
That Lord Canning accepted an offer of several Goorkha regiments, from
Jung Bahadoor of Nepaul, has been stated in a former chapter; but a very
long time elapsed before those hardy little troops were enabled to
render much service. The process of collecting them at Khatmandoo and
elsewhere occupied several weeks, and it was not until the beginning of
September that they reached Jounpoor, a station in the very heart of the
disturbed districts. Even then, there was much tardiness in bringing
them into active service; for the English officers appointed to command
them did not at first understand the difference of management required
by Hindustani sepoys and Nepaulese Goorkhas. Happily, an opportunity
occurred for remedying this defect. A smart affair on the 20th of
September afforded the Goorkhas an opportunity of shewing their
gallantry. Colonel Wroughton, military commandant at Jounpoor, having
heard that Azimghur was threatened with an attack by 8000 rebels under
Madhoo Singh of Atrowlia, resolved to send a regiment of Goorkhas from
Jounpoor to strengthen the force already at Azimghur. They started at
once, marched the distance in a day and a half, and reached the
threatened city on the evening of the 19th. This was the Shere regiment
of Jung Bahadoor’s force, under Colonel Shumshere Singh, a Nepaulese
officer. At a very early hour on the morning of the 20th, it was
ascertained that a large body of rebels had assembled in and near the
neighbouring village of Mundoree. A force of 1200 men, mostly belonging
to three Goorkha regiments, was immediately sent out to disperse
them—Captain Boileau commanding, Colonel Shumshere Singh heading the
Goorkhas, and Mr Venables (whose prowess had already been displayed in
the same district) taking charge of a small body of local horse. Finding
that the rebels were posted in a clump of trees and in a jheel behind
the village, Captain Boileau directed Shumshere Singh to advance his
Goorkhas at double pace. This was done, despite the fire from several
guns; the little Goorkhas charged, drove the enemy away towards
Captangunje, and captured three brass guns and all the camp-equipage. Mr
Venables was seen wherever the fighting was thickest; he was up at the
first gun taken, and killed three of the enemy with his own hand. About
200 of the enemy were laid low in this brief encounter, and one-sixth of
this number on the part of the victors.
This little battle of Mundoree had a moral effect, superadded to the
immediate dispersing of a body of rebels. It shewed the soldierly
conduct of the Goorkhas, who had marched fifty miles in two days, and
then won a battle in a kind of country to which they were unaccustomed.
It proved the intrepidity of one of the civil servants of the Company,
whose sterling qualities were brought forth at a critical time.
Moreover, it dissipated a prejudice against the Goorkhas formed by some
of the British officers. These troops had hitherto remained nearly
inactive in the region between Nepaul and the Ganges. Jung Bahadoor had
sent them, under a native officer, Colonel Puhlwan Singh, to be employed
wherever the authorities deemed best. Colonel Wroughton, and other
British officers, formed an opinion that the Nepaulese troops were
incapable of rapid movement, and that their native officers dreaded the
responsibility of independent action. Mr Grant, lieutenant-governor of
the Central Provinces, in an official letter to Colonel Wroughton after
the battle of Mundoree, pointed out that this opinion had been very
detrimental to the public service, in discouraging any employment of the
Goorkhas. He added: ‘It was natural to expect that foreigners, and those
foreigners mountaineers, unaccustomed either to the plains or to their
inhabitants, should at first feel some awkwardness in the new position
in which they were placed, with everything strange around them. The
sagacity of Jung Bahadoor had already foreseen this difficulty; and it
was at his earnest desire that British officers were attached to the
Goorkha force, to encourage the officers and men, and to explain how
operations should be carried on in such a country and such a climate as
that in which they now for the first time marched, and against such an
enemy as they now for the first time met.... The lieutenant-governor
will now confidently look to you that the Goorkha force is henceforth
actively employed in the service for which it was placed at the disposal
of the British government by the Nepaulese.’ It must be borne in mind,
to prevent confusion, that this Goorkha force, lent by Jung Bahadoor,
was distinct from the Goorkha battalions of Sirmoor and Kumaon, often
mentioned in former chapters; those battalions were part of the Bengal
native army, fortunately consisting of Goorkhas instead of ‘Pandies;’
whereas the new force was a Nepaulese army, lent for a special purpose.
Mr Grant, the temporarily appointed lieutenant-governor just mentioned,
employed all his energies throughout September and October in promoting
the transit of British troops from the lower to the upper provinces, to
aid in the operations at Cawnpore and Lucknow. He could not, however,
forget the fact that the eastern frontier of Oude adjoined the British
districts of Goruckpore, Jounpoor, and Azimghur; and that the Oude
rebels were continually making demonstrations on that side. He longed
for British troops, to strengthen and encourage the Goorkhas in his
service, and occasionally applied for a few; but he, as all others, was
told that the relief of the residents at Lucknow must precede, and be
paramount over, all other military operations whatever. Writing to Lord
Canning from Benares on the 15th of October, he said: ‘It is a point for
consideration, how much longer it will be otherwise than imprudent to
continue to send the whole of the daily arrivals of Europeans nearly
half-way round the province of Oude, in order to create a pressure upon
the rear of the mutineers and insurgents of that province from the
direction of Cawnpore and Lucknow, whilst our home districts are left
thus open to them in their front.’ He expressed a hope that the Punjaub
and Delhi regions would be able to supply nearly troops enough for
immediate operations at Lucknow; and that a portion of the British
regiments sent up from the lower provinces would be permitted to form
the nucleus of a new army at Benares, for operations on the eastern
frontier of Oude. Many weeks elapsed, however, before this suggestion
could meet with practical attention.
Thus it was throughout the districts of Goruckpore, Jounpoor, Azimghur,
and others eastward of Oude and north of the Ganges. If the British had
had to contend only with mutinied sepoys and sowars, victory would more
generally and completely have attended their exertions; but rebellious
chieftains were numerous, and these, encouraged by the newly established
rebel government at Lucknow, continually harassed the British officials
placed in charge of those districts. The colonels, captains, judges,
magistrates, collectors—all cried aloud for more European troops; their
cries were heeded at Calcutta, but could not be satisfied, for reasons
already sufficiently explained.
Let us cross the Ganges, and watch the state of affairs in the
southwestern districts of Bengal and Behar during the months of
September and October.
Throughout this wide region, the troubles arose rather from sepoys
already rebellious, than from new instances of mutiny. Preceding
chapters have shewn that the 8th Bengal native infantry mutinied at
Hazarebagh on the 30th of July; that the infantry of the Ramgurh
battalion followed the pernicious example on the next day; that the 5th
irregular cavalry mutinied at Bhagulpore on the 14th of August; and that
the 7th, 8th, and 40th regiments of native infantry which mutinied at
Dinapoor on the 25th of July, kept the whole of Western Bengal in
agitation throughout August, by rendering uncertain in which direction
they would march, under the rebel chieftain, Koer Singh. The only
additional mutiny, in this region, was that of the 32d native infantry,
presently to be noticed. The elements of anarchy were, however, already
numerous and violent enough to plunge the whole district into disorder.
Some of the towns were the centres of opium-growing or indigo-producing
regions; many were surrounded simply by rice or cornfields; others,
again, were military stations, at which the Company were accustomed to
keep troops; while several were dâk or post stations, for the
maintenance of communication along the great trunk-road from Calcutta to
Benares. But wherever and whatever they may have been, these towns were
seldom at peace during the months now under notice. The towns-people and
the surrounding villagers were perpetually affected by rumours that the
mutinous 5th cavalry were coming, or the mutinous 8th infantry, or the
Ramgurh mutineers, or those from Dinapoor. For, it must be borne in
mind, we are now treating of a part of India inhabited chiefly by
Bengalees, a race too timid to supply many fighting rebels—too fond of
quiet industry willingly to belt on the sword or shoulder the matchlock.
They may or may not have loved the British; if not, they would rather
intrigue than fight against them. In the contest arising out of the
mutiny, these Bengalees suffered greatly. The mutineers, joined by the
released vagabonds from the jails, too frequently plundered all alike,
Feringhee and native; and the quiet trader or cultivator had much reason
to dread the approach of such workers of mischief. The Europeans, few in
number, and oppressed with responsibility, knew not which way to turn
for aid. Revenue collectors, with many lacs of the Company’s rupees,
feared for the safety of their treasure. Military officers, endeavouring
with a handful of troops to check the passage of mutineers, were
bewildered by the vague and conflicting intelligence which reached them.
Officials at the dâk-stations, impressed daily by stringent orders from
Calcutta to keep open the main line of road for the passage of English
troops to Upper India, were in perpetual anxiety lest bands of mutineers
should approach and cut off the dâks altogether. Every one begged and
prayed the Calcutta government to send him a few trusty troops; every
one assured the government that the salvation of that part of India
depended on the request being acceded to.
Dorunda, sixty miles south of Hazarebagh, was a scene of violence on the
11th of September. The Ramgurh mutineers destroyed the public and
private buildings at this place, plundered the town, committed great
atrocities on the towns-people, beheaded a native surgeon belonging to
the jail, and marched off in the direction of Tikhoo Ghat, taking with
them four guns and a large amount of plunder and ammunition. Their
apparent intention was to march through the Palamow district, and effect
a junction with Koer Singh, with whom they had been in correspondence.
Only four men of the Ramgurh irregular cavalry were of the party; all
the rest were infantry. The cavalry, remaining faithful as a body,
seized the first opportunity of joining their officers at Hazarebagh.
This was another instance of divergence between the two parts of one
corps, wholly inexplicable to the British officers, who could offer no
reason why the infantry had lapsed, while the cavalry remained faithful.
In this part of India the mutineers were not supported by the zemindars
or landowners, as in other districts; and hence the few British troops
were better enabled to lay plans for the frustration of these workers of
mischief. Captain Fischer, Captain Dalton, Major English, Captain Oakes,
Captain Davies, Captain Rattray, Lieutenant Graham, Lieutenant Birch,
and other officers, were in command of small bodies of troops in this
region during the greater part of the month; these troops consisted of
Madras natives, Sikhs, and a very few British; and the numerous trifling
but serviceable affairs in which they were engaged bore relation to the
regiments which had mutinied at Ramgurh, Bhagulpore, and Dinapoor, and
to the chieftains and marauders who joined those disloyal soldiers.
For the reasons already assigned, however, the British troops were very
few in number; while the Madras troops were so urgently needed in the
more turbulent Saugor provinces, that they could barely be spared for
service in Bengal. Regiments had not at that time begun to arrive very
rapidly from England; the few that did land at Calcutta, were eagerly
caught up for service in the Doab and Oude. In most instances, the aid
which was afforded by English troops to the region now under notice,
depended on a temporary stoppage of a regiment or detachment on its
passage to the upper provinces; in urgent cases, the government ordered
or permitted a small British force to diverge from its direct line of
march, and render aid to a Bengal town or station at a particular
juncture. Such was the case with H.M. 53d foot. Major English, with a
wing of this regiment, had a contest with the Ramgurh mutineers on the
29th of September. He marched from Hazarebagh to Sillis Chowk, where he
heard news of these insurgents; and by further active movements he came
up with them on the 2d of October, just as they had begun to plunder the
town of Chuttra. The mutineers planted two guns so as to play upon the
British; but the latter, in the way which had by this time become quite
common with their comrades in India, determined to attack and take the
guns by a fearless advance. On they went, through rice-fields, behind
rocks and underwood, through lanes and round buildings, running and
cheering, until they had captured four guns in succession, together with
ammunition, ten elephants, and other warlike appliances, and sent the
enemy fleeing. The officers dashed on at the head of their respective
parties of men in a way that astonished the enemy; and the major,
viewing these enterprises with the eye of a soldier, said in his
dispatch: ‘It was splendid to see them rush on the guns.’ His loss was,
however, considerable; 5 killed and 33 wounded out of three companies
only. In addition to military trophies, Major English took fifty
thousand rupees of the Company’s treasure from the mutineers, who, like
mutineers elsewhere, regarded the revenue collections as fair booty when
once they had thrown off allegiance. During the operations of the 53d in
this region—one, in many parts of which British soldiers had never been
seen—an instance was afforded of the dismay into which the civilians
were sometimes thrown by the withdrawal of trusty troops; it was
narrated in a letter written by an officer of that regiment.[106]
The native regiments were often distributed in detachments at different
stations; and it frequently happened—as just adverted to—for reasons
wholly inexplicable to the authorities, that some of those component
elements remained faithful long after others had mutinied. Such was the
case in reference to the 32d B. N. I. Two companies of that regiment,
stationed at Deoghur in the Sonthal district, rose in mutiny on the 9th
of October, murdered Lieutenant Cooper and the assistant-commissary,
looted the bazaar, and then marched off to Rohnee, taking with them
Lieutenant Rennie as a prisoner. Two other companies of the regiment
were at that time _en route_ from Burhait to Soorie, while the
headquarter companies were at Bowsee. The authorities at Calcutta at
once sought to ascertain what was the feeling among the men at the
stations just named; but, pending these inquiries, orders were given to
despatch a wing of H.M. 13th foot from Calcutta to the Sonthal district,
to control the mutineers. Major English was at that time going to the
upper provinces with a detachment of H.M. 53d foot; but he was now
ordered to turn aside for a while, and aid in pacifying the district
before pursuing his journey to Benares. Although the remaining companies
of the native 32d did afterwards take rank among the mutineers, they
were ‘true to their salt’ for some time after the treachery of their
companions had become known.
This 32d mutinous regiment succeeded in crossing the Sone river, with
the intention of joining Koer Singh and the Dinapoor mutineers—a feat
managed in a way that greatly mortified Major English’s 53d. On the 20th
of October the wing of this latter regiment proceeded from Sheergotty to
Gayah, to reassure the uneasy officials at that station; and on the 22d
they started again, to intercept the mutineers. After much hot and
wearying marching, they returned to Gayah, without having encountered
the mutineers, one portion of whom had crossed the Sone. Some days
later, news arrived that the second portion of the 32d, that which had
not at first mutinied, was, in like manner, marching towards the river.
On the 1st of November the 53d started in pursuit, marched thirty miles
during the night to Hurwa, rested a while, marched ten miles further to
Nowada during the evening, and came up with the mutineers in the night.
A skirmish by moonlight took place, greatly to the advantage of the
rebels, who had a better knowledge of the country than their opponents.
The sepoys did not want to fight, they wished to march towards the Sone;
and this they did day after day until the 6th, followed closely all the
way by the British. The pursued outstripped the pursuers, and safely
crossed the river—much to the vexation of the major and his troops. One
of the officers present has said: ‘This was very provoking; for if we
had but caught them, we should have got as much credit for it as for
Chuttra. The country we went through was, for the most part, over swampy
rice-fields; when we gave up the pursuit we had gone 130 miles in 108
hours; and, on our return to Gayah, we had been 170 miles in exactly one
week. After the second day we sent our tents and bedding back; so that
we marched as lightly as possible, and were by that means able to give
the men an occasional lift on the elephants.’
Throughout these miscellaneous and often desultory operations in Bengal,
if the Sikhs had proved faithless, all would have gone to ruin. It was
more easy to obtain a thousand Sikhs than a hundred British, and thus
they were made use of as a sort of military police, irrespective of the
regular regiments raised in the Punjaub. Few circumstances are more
observable throughout the Revolt, than the fidelity of these men.
Insubordination there was, certainly, in some instances, but not in
sufficient degree to affect the character of the whole. Captain
Rattray’s Sikhs have often been mentioned. These were a corps of
military police, formed for rendering service in any part of Bengal; and
in the rendering of this service they were most admirable. The
lieutenant-governor of Bengal, in a paper drawn up early in September,
said: ‘The commandant of the Sikh Police Battalion has pleaded strongly
on his own behalf, and on that of his men, for the assembling of the
scattered fragments of his corps, to enable them to strike such a blow
as to prove the high military spirit and discipline of the regiment. The
urgent necessities which caused the separation of Captain Rattray’s
regiment renders it impossible, in existing circumstances, to call in
all detachments to head-quarters; but its admirable discipline, daring,
and devotion at Arrah and Jugdispore, and its good conduct everywhere,
have fully established its character for soldierly qualities of the
highest order. It would be difficult to exaggerate the value of the
services which it has rendered to the state since the commencement of
the present troubles; and the trust and confidence everywhere reposed in
it, prove that these services are neither underrated nor disregarded. Of
the men, all who have distinguished themselves for conspicuous deeds of
valour and loyalty, have already been rewarded.’ As individuals, too,
the Sikhs were reliable in a remarkable degree, when Hindustanis were
falling away on all sides. When the troubles broke out at Benares, early
in the mutiny, a Sikh chieftain, by name Rajah Soorut Singh, rendered
invaluable service to the British residents, which they did not fail
gratefully to remember at a later period. A few of the Company’s
servants, civil and military, at Benares and other towns in that part of
India, caused to be manufactured by Mr Westley Richards of Birmingham,
for presentation to Soorut Singh, a splendid set of firearms, effective
for use as well as superb in appearance.
We will now cross the Sone, and trace the progress of affairs in the
Bundelcund and Saugor provinces.
It will be remembered, from the details given in former chapters, that
the native inhabitants of Bundelcund, and other regions south of the
Jumna and the Central Ganges, displayed a more turbulent tendency than
those of Bengal. They had for ages been more addicted to war, and had
among them a greater number of chieftains employing retainers in their
pay, than the Bengalese; and they were within easier reach of the
temptations thrown out by Nena Sahib, the King of Delhi, Koer Singh, and
the agents of the deposed King of Oude. Lieutenant (now Captain)
Osborne, the British resident at Rewah, was one who felt the full force
of this state of circumstances. As he had been in August, so was he now
in September, almost the only Englishman within a wide range of country
southwest of Allahabad; the rajah of Rewah was faithful, but his native
troops were prone to rebellion; and it was only by wonderful sagacity
and firmness that he could protect both the rajah and himself from the
vortex.
In a wide region eastward of Rewah, the question arose, every day
throughout September, where is Koer Singh? This treacherous chieftain,
who headed the Dinapoor mutineers from the day of their entering Arrah,
was continually marching about with his rebel army of something like
3000 men, apparently uncertain of his plans—an uncertainty very
perplexing to the British officials, who, having a mere handful of
troops at their disposal, did not know where that handful might most
profitably be employed. On one day Koer Singh, with his brother Ummer
Singh, would be reported at Rotas, on another day at Sasseram; sometimes
there was a rumour of the rebels being about to march to Rewah and
Bundelcund; at others, that they were going to join the Goruckpore
insurgents; and at others, again, that the Dinapoor and Ramgurh
mutineers would act in concert. Wherever they went, however, plunder and
rapine marked their footsteps. At one of the towns, the heirs of a
zemindar, whose estates had been forfeited many years before, levied a
thousand men to aid in seizing the property from the present
proprietors. This was one among many proofs afforded during the mutiny,
that chieftains and landowners sought to make the revolt of the native
soldiery a means for insuring their own private ends, whether those ends
were justifiable or not. The authorities at Patna and elsewhere
endeavoured to meet these varied difficulties as best they could with
their limited resources. They sent to Calcutta all the ladies and
children from disturbed districts, so far as they possessed means of
conveyance. They empowered the indigo-planters to raise small bodies of
police force in their respective districts. They obtained the aid of two
regiments of Goorkhas in the Chumparun district, by which the
restoration of tranquillity might reasonably be expected. They seized
the estates of Koer Singh and Ummer Singh at Arrah, as traitors. They
imposed heavy fines on villages which had sent men to take active part
in the disturbances. Lastly, they used all their energies to protect
that part of the main trunk-road which passes near the river Sone;
seeing that the march of European troops from Calcutta to the upper
provinces would be materially affected by any interruption in that
quarter. The newly arrived British regiments could not go up as an army,
but as small detachments in bullock-wagons, and therefore were not
prepared for sudden encounters with large numbers of the enemy.
The 5th irregular cavalry, who had mutinied in this part of India some
weeks before, continued a system of plundering, levying contributions,
and destroying public property. Every day that transpired, leaving these
daring atrocities unchecked, weakened British prestige, and encouraged
marauders on all sides to imitate the example so fatally set before
them. The authorities felt and acknowledged this; yet, for the reasons
already noticed, they could do little to check it. Captain Rattray, at
the head of a portion of his Sikh police, encountered the 5th irregulars
on the 8th of the month; but, as a cavalry force, they were too strong
for him; they beat him in action, out-generalled him in movement,
released four hundred prisoners from one of the jails, and then marched
west toward the river Sone. The mutinous sowars were subsequently heard
of at Tikane, Daoodnuggur, Baroon, and other places; everywhere
committing great depredations. Thus was a large and important region, on
either side of the main trunk-road, and extending two hundred miles
along that road, kept in a state of daily agitation. The 5th irregular
cavalry in one quarter, Koer Singh in another, and his brothers Ummer
Singh and Nishan Singh in a third, were all busily employed in
depredation; patriotism or nationality had little hold on their thoughts
just then; for they plundered whomsoever had property to lose, without
much regard to race or creed. The government offered large rewards for
the capture of these leaders, but without effect: the rebels generally
resisted this kind of temptation. Opium-crops to the value of half a
million sterling were at that time ripening in the Behar and Arrah
districts alone; and it was feared that all these would be devastated
unless aid arrived from Calcutta.
Mr Wake, and the other civil servants who had so gallantly defended
themselves at Arrah, against an enormous force of the enemy, returned to
that station about the middle of September, to resume their duties; but
as it was feared that Ummer Singh and the 5th irregulars would effect a
junction, and attempt to reoccupy Jugdispore, those officers were
authorised to fall back upon Dinapoor or Buxar, in the event of being
attacked; although they themselves expressed a wish rather to remain at
their posts and fortify themselves against the rebels as they had done
before. The necessity of making this choice, however, did not arise. The
5th cavalry, after their victory over Rattray’s Sikhs, and during their
visits to the towns and villages near the Sone, committed, as we have
just said, every kind of atrocity—plundering houses, levying
contributions, breaking open the zenanas of Hindoo houses, abusing the
women, and destroying property too bulky to be carried away—all this
they did; but for some unexplained reason, they avoided the redoubtable
little band at Arrah.
The Saugor and Nerbudda provinces, of which the chief towns and stations
were Banda, Jaloun, Jhansi, Saugor, Jubbulpoor, Nagode, Dumoh, Nowgong,
Mundlah, and Hosungabad, were, as we have seen, in a very precarious
state in the month of August. At Saugor, so early as the month of June,
Brigadier Sage had brought all the Europeans into a well-armed and amply
provisioned fort, guarded by a body of European gunners, and by the
still faithful 31st regiment of Bengal infantry; and there the Europeans
remained at the close of August, almost cut off from communication with
their fellow-countrymen elsewhere. Jubbulpoor had passed through the
summer months without actual mutiny; but the revolt of the 42d infantry
and the 3d irregular cavalry, at neighbouring stations, and certain
suspicious symptoms afforded by the 52d at Jubbulpoor itself, led Major
Erskine to fortify the Residency, and provision it for six months.
Banda, Jhansi, and Jaloun, had long fallen into the hands of the rebels;
Mundlah and Hosungabad were at the mercy of circumstances occurring at
other places; Nagode would be reliable only so long as the 50th native
infantry remained true; and Dumoh would be scarcely tenable if
Jubbulpoor were in danger. Thus, at the end of August, British supremacy
in the Saugor and Nerbudda territories hung by a thread. The Calcutta
authorities, unable to supply British troops for Bengal or Behar, were
equally debarred from rendering assistance to these territories.
September opened very gloomily for the officers intrusted with duties in
this quarter. The Punjaub and Calcutta could only furnish trustworthy
troops for the Jumna and Doab regions, where the war raged with greatest
fierceness; it was from Madras and Bombay alone that aid could be
expected. Fortunately, the large regions of Nagpoor and Hyderabad were
nearly at peace, and thus a passage could be afforded for troops from
the south which would not have been practicable had those countries been
plunged in anarchy.
Towards the middle of September, Lieutenant Clark, deputy-commissioner
of Jubbulpoor, learned a few facts that put him on the track of a
conspiracy. It came out, on inquiry, that Rajah Shunker Shah, and many
other chieftains and zemindars in the neighbourhood of Jubbulpoor,
acting in concert with some of the sepoys of the 52d B. N. I., intended
to attack the cantonment on the last day of the Mohurrum, murder all the
Europeans, burn the cantonments, and plunder the treasury and city. By a
bold and prompt movement, the chief conspirators were seized on the
14th. The lieutenant, writing to the commissioner of Nagpoor, announced
the result in brief but significant language. ‘I have been fortunate
enough to get conclusive evidence by means of spies, without the
conspirators taking alarm; and this morning, with a party of sowars and
police, bagged thirty, and two rajahs (ringleaders) among them. Of
course they swing. Many of my principal zemindars, and some—I wish I
knew how many—of the 52d, are in the plot.’ In Rajah Shunker’s house,
among other treasonable papers, was found a sort of prayer, invoking his
deity to aid him in the destruction of all Europeans, the overturning of
the government, and the re-establishment of his own power. The paper was
found in a silk bag in which he kept his fan, and was a scrap torn from
a government proclamation issued after the massacre at Meerut. In this
instance, therefore, the official expression of horror and wrath at the
opening scene of the mutiny, instead of deterring, encouraged others to
walk in the same bloody path. The prayer or invocation was afterwards
translated from the Hindee into English, and published among the
parliamentary papers.[107] The execution of the rajah and his son was
something more terrible than was implied by the lieutenant’s curt
announcement, ‘of course they swing.’ It was one among many examples of
that ‘blowing away from guns’ to which the records of the mutiny
habituated English newspaper readers. An officer stationed at Jubbulpoor
at the time, after noticing the complicity of these two guilty men,
describes the execution in a brief but painfully vivid way. ‘At the head
of the conspiracy was Shunker Shah, the Ghond rajah, and his son. Their
place of abode is about four miles from Jubbulpoor. In former days this
family ruled over all this part of the country; they can trace their
descent for sixty generations. The family had been deprived of
everything by the Mahrattas, and were in great poverty when we took
possession. Our government raised them up from this state, and gave them
sufficient to support themselves comfortably; and now they shewed their
gratitude by conspiring against us in our time of sore trial. The family
have neither much property nor power, but the ancient name and prestige
was a point on which to rally.... On the 18th, at 11 o’clock A.M., our
two guns were advanced a few hundred yards in front of the Residency,
covered by a company of the 33d and a few troopers, and it became known
that the Ghond rajah and his son were about to be blown away from the
cannon’s mouth. The old man walked up to the guns with a firm stride;
the son appeared more dejected. The old man, with his snow-white hair
and firm manner, almost excited compassion; and one had to remember,
before such feelings could be checked, how atrociously he intended to
deal with us had his conspiracy succeeded; the evidence of his guilt was
overwhelming. All was over in a few minutes. The scattered remains were
pounced upon by kites and vultures, but what could be collected was
handed over to the ranee.’
Although Lieutenant Clark was thus enabled, by mingled caution and
decision, to frustrate the atrocious plot of which Jubbulpoor was to
have been the theatre, he could not prevent the mutiny of the 52d native
regiment. That corps revolted, albeit without perpetrating the cruelties
and rapine intended. It was on the 18th that this rising took place, the
troops at once marching off quietly towards Dumoh. One old subadar they
tied on a horse, because he did not wish to join, and because they did
not choose to leave him behind. It was supposed that the 52d had gone
towards Dumoh, to capture guns there, and then return to plunder
Jubbulpoor. Two days before this, namely, on the 16th, the greater part
of the 50th regiment Bengal infantry threw off allegiance. Being
stationed at Nagode, they suddenly rose, released the prisoners from the
jail, burned the bungalows, and rendered the place no longer safe for
Europeans. Mr Ellis and the other civilians fled to Paunna, while
Colonel Hampton and the other military officers made their escape
towards Jokhie—leaving every vestige of their property behind, except
the clothes on their backs. Two companies of the regiment, remaining
faithful, accompanied their officers safely to Mirzapore, a journey
which occupied them twelve days.
The Europeans at Dumoh, a civil station on the road from Saugor to
Jubbulpoor, were thrown into much tribulation by news of these mutinies
at other places. When both the 50th and 52d regiments had ‘gone’—a term
that acquired much significance in India at that time—Major Erskine,
chief-commissioner of the Saugor and Nerbudda territories, who happened
to be at Dumoh, summoned a council of war on the 20th of September, to
consider what was best to be done. It was resolved that Dumoh could not
long be held against any considerable body of mutineers; and that
advantage should be taken of the temporary presence of a column of
Madras native troops to employ that column as an escort for the
civilians and the Company’s treasure from Dumoh to Jubbulpoor. There was
a detachment of the still faithful 31st at Dumoh; and this was sent to
join the main body of the regiment at Saugor, to be out of the way of
temptation from mutinous sepoys.
This convoy of men and money from Dumoh led to a smart military
encounter. The Madras movable column which afforded the required
protection numbered about 500 men of all arms, under Colonel Miller.
Leaving Dumoh on the 21st, and being much obstructed in passing the
river Nowtah, Colonel Miller reached Sigrampore on the 26th; where he
heard that the main body of the mutineers were at Konee, on the banks of
a river which the column would need to cross on its way to Jubbulpoor.
The colonel at once despatched a force of about 100 men, under
Lieutenant Watson, to secure the boats on the river; but the enemy
baffled this officer, who had much difficulty in preserving his men.
Miller then advanced with his whole column, met the enemy, and fought a
brief but decisive battle, which ended in the utter rout of the rebel
sepoys. If it had been a purely military affair, the colonel was strong
enough to defeat a more numerous body of the enemy; but he was hampered
by the presence of civilians, treasure, and 120 sepoys of the 52d, who
had been disarmed at Dumoh on news of the revolt of the main body, and
whom it was necessary to take with the column. It was, indeed, a strange
state of things; for the disarmed men were of course eager enough to
rush over and join their companions of the same regiment.
It is not matter for censure if men placed in authority at different
stations, in time of peril, occasionally differed concerning the
relative importance of those stations. Thus, when the 50th and 52d
native regiments mutinied, a question arose which principal city, Saugor
or Jubbulpoor, should be regarded as a last stronghold in the event of
the British being nearly overpowered. Major Erskine, at Jubbulpoor,
urged the claims of that city, as having certain facilities for the
receipt of reinforcements, should such happily be afforded; and as
having many European women and children within the fort, who could not
be removed without danger. Brigadier Sage, on the other hand,
urged—‘Whatever you do, let me retain Saugor. It is the key to Central
India. It has a good fort and magazine. It is provisioned for six or
eight months for three hundred men, and has thirty thousand maunds of
grain in addition. It has a siege-train, which will fall into the hands
of the enemy if we leave the place. It contains 170 women and children,
who could not be withdrawn without danger.’ In such or similar words was
the retention of Saugor advocated. The discussion happily ended by both
towns being retained. Those officials of the Company, military or civil,
who resolutely fortified, instead of abandoning their positions, were in
most instances rewarded with success—unless the enemy were in unusually
overwhelming force.
Nearly all parts of the Saugor and Nerbudda territories were in wild
confusion at the close of September. The Kamptee column of Madras troops
had, as we have just seen, broken up the 52d mutineers; but still those
rebels lay concealed in jungles, ready for mischief whenever an
opportunity might offer; while the Madrasses, distracted by many
applications from different quarters, had been unable to prevent the
mutinous 50th regiment, at Nagode, from marching off to join the
Dinapoor mutineers near Banda. At Saugor, Brigadier Sage and the British
were safe, because they were in a strong and well-provisioned fort, and
because the 31st native infantry exhibited no signs of disaffection;
nevertheless the whole country around was in the hands of rebellious
chieftains. On one occasion he sent out the greater part of his force to
attack the Rajah of Bankipore at Nurriowlee, ten miles from Saugor; but
the attack was unskilfully made—it failed, and greatly lowered British
prestige in the neighbourhood.
As in September, so in October, these provinces were held by a very
slender tie. Nearly all the chiefs of Bundelcund, on the border, were
ready to rise in rebellion at news of any discomfiture of the British.
Numerous thakoors had risen, and, with their followers, were plundering
the villages in every direction. At Jubbulpoor, Hosungabad, Nursingpore,
Jaloun, Jhansi, Saugor, Mundlah, Dumoh, there was scarcely an English
soldier; and the presence of a few hundred Madras troops alone stood
between the authorities and frightful anarchy. Indeed, Jaloun, Jhansi,
and Dumoh were out of British hands altogether. The commissioner of
Nagpoor was unable to send up any more Madrasses from the south; Mr
Grant was unable to send any from Benares; the independent and
half-distrusted state of Rewah lay on one border; the thoroughly
rebellious state of Banda on another—and thus Major Erskine looked with
gloomy apprehensions on the fate of the provinces under his charge. As
the month drew to a close, his accounts were still more dismal. In one
letter he said: ‘The mass of native chiefs disbelieve in the existence
of a British army; and nothing but the presence of troops among them
will convince them of their error.’ Again find again were such messages
and representations sent to Viscount Canning, as chief authority in
India; again and again did he announce that he had no British troops to
spare. To Major Erskine’s letters he replied that he ‘must say broadly
and plainly that he would consider the sacrifice of the garrison in
Lucknow as a far greater calamity and reproach to the government than an
outbreak of the Rewah or Bundelcund states, even if followed by
rebellion and temporary loss of our authority in our own territories on
the Nerbudda.’ At the close of the month, Koer Singh and the Dinapoor
mutineers were somewhere between Banda and Calpee; while Captain
Osborne-one of the most remarkable men whom the Indian Revolt brought
into notice—still maintained his extraordinary position at Rewah.
We pass now further to the west—to the cities and towns on the Jumna
river, and to the regions of Central India between that river and
Bombay. Here, little need detain us until we come to Agra. Futtehpoor,
Cawnpore, and Futteghur, though not in Oude, were on its frontier, and
were involved in the fortunes of that province. Captain Peel’s movements
with his naval brigade, in the Doab, may be left for treatment in
connection with the affairs of Lucknow.
Agra experienced a loss early in September, in the death of John Russell
Colvin, the lieutenant-governor of the Northwest Provinces. He fell from
sickness, brought on mainly by the intense anxieties arising out of his
position. He was a remarkable man, a true specimen of those civilians
developed into usefulness by the unique policy of the East India
Company. In England a public man becomes a statesman through a multitude
of minor and exceptional causes; in India, under the Company’s ‘raj,’
statesmen were educated professedly and designedly for their work. In
England, we have seen the same statesman transferred from the Exchequer
to the India Board, and from thence to the Admiralty, as if the same
kind of knowledge were required for all three situations; in India, the
statesman’s education bore more close relation to the duties of the
offices he was likely to fill. No defects in the Company’s government,
no evils arising out of ‘traditional policy,’ no favouritism or
nepotism—can blot out the fact that the system brought out the best
qualities of the men in their service. Well will it be if the imperial
government, in future ages, is served so faithfully, skilfully, and
energetically in India as the Company’s government, during the last
half-century, has been served by the Malcolms, Metcalfes, Munros, Birds,
Thomasons, Elphinstones, Montgomerys, Outrams, Lawrences, and
Colvins—most of them civilians, whose apprenticeship to Indian
statesmanship began almost from boyhood.
Mr Colvin, whose death has suggested the above few remarks, had seen as
much political service as almost any man in India. He was born in
Calcutta, the son of a merchant engaged in the Calcutta trade. After
receiving his education in England, and carrying off high honours at
Haileybury, he went to India in the Company’s service in 1826; and for
thirty-one years was seldom free from public duties, mostly special and
local. The number of offices he served in succession was remarkably
large. He was assistant to the registrar of the Sudder Court at
Calcutta; assistant to the British resident at Hyderabad;
assistant-secretary in the revenue and judicial department at Calcutta;
secretary to the Board of Revenue in the Lower Provinces; private
secretary to Governor-general Lord Auckland; British resident in Nepaul;
commissioner of the Tenasserim provinces; judge of the Sudder Court; and
lastly, lieutenant-governor of the Northwest Provinces—ruler over a
territory containing as many inhabitants as the United Kingdom of Great
Britain and Ireland. All these offices he filled in succession, and the
first eight qualified him for the onerous duties of the ninth and last.
Throughout the mutiny, the only point on which Mr Colvin differed from
Viscount Canning was in the policy of the proclamation issued on the
25th of May. It was at the time, and will ever remain, a point fairly
open to discussion, whether Colvin’s proclamation[108] was or was not
too lenient towards the rebellious sepoys. If Canning’s decision partook
more of that of John Lawrence, it is equally certain that Colvin’s views
were pretty nearly shared by Henry Lawrence, in the early stages of the
mutiny. Irrespective of this question of the proclamation, Colvin’s
position at Agra was one of painful difficulty. He was not so successful
as Sir John Lawrence in the Punjaub, and his name has not found a place
among the great men whom the mutiny brought into notice; but it would be
unfair to leave unnoticed the circumstances which paralysed the ruler of
Agra. A distinguished civilian, who knew both Colvin and Lawrence, and
who has written under the assumed name of ‘Indophilus,’ thus compares
the position of the two men: ‘Colvin, with a higher official position,
had less real command over events than his neighbour in the Punjaub.
John Lawrence ruled a people who had for generations cherished a
religious and political feud with the people of Hindostan Proper; and
Delhi was, in Sikh estimation, the accursed city drunk with the blood of
saints and martyrs. John Colvin’s government was itself the focus of the
insurrection. Lawrence may be said to have been his own
commander-in-chief; and after a European force had been detached to
Delhi immediately on the outbreak, he still had at his disposal seven
European regiments, including the one sent from Bombay to Moultan,
besides European artillery and a local Sikh force of about 20,000
first-rate irregulars of all arms. Colvin was merely the civil governor
of the Northwest Provinces; and as the posts (dâks) were stopped, he
could not even communicate with the commander-in-chief, with whom the
entire disposal of the military force rested. Lawrence had three days’
exclusive knowledge by telegraph of what had taken place at Meerut and
Delhi, during which interval he made his arrangements for disarming the
sepoy regiments stationed in the Punjaub. Colvin had no warning; and the
military insurrection had actually broken out within his government, and
the mutineers were in possession of Delhi, before he could begin to act;
but he promptly and vigorously did what was in his power.’ We have seen
in former chapters what course Mr Colvin adopted between May and
August.[109] He opened communications with the authorities all around
him, as soon as he knew that the mutiny had begun; he disarmed the 44th
and 67th native infantry on the 1st of June; he raised a corps of
volunteer horse for service in the neighbourhood; he organised a
foot-militia among the civilians and traders, for the protection of the
city; and he kept a close watch on the proceedings of the Gwalior
mutineers. In July occurred the mutiny of the troopers of the Kotah
Contingent; then the ill-managed battle outside Agra on the 5th; then
the shutting up of Mr Colvin and six thousand persons within the fort;
and then the passing of two weary months, during which the
lieutenant-governor was powerless through his inability to obtain trusty
troops from any quarter whatever. His health and spirits failed, and he
died on the 9th of September—still hemmed within the walls of the fort
at Agra. Mr Reade, the leading civilian, assumed authority until orders
could be received from Calcutta; Colonel Frazer afterwards received the
appointment—not of lieutenant-governor of the Northwest Provinces, for
that government had by this time disappeared under the force of the
mutiny—but of chief-commissioner at Agra. Viscount Canning, in a
government order, gracefully and properly acknowledged the merits of Mr
Colvin.[110]
[Illustration:
Camp within the Fort, Agra.—From a Photograph.
]
The Europeans resident in Agra, after Mr Colvin’s decease, were still
unable to liberate themselves; for Delhi had not yet fallen, nor had
English prestige been yet restored by Havelock’s success at Lucknow. The
English officers felt their enforced idleness very irksome. They, like
all the other Europeans, were confined within the fort; no daring
military exploits could be looked forward to hopefully, because there
ware scarcely any troops to command. For three months the Gwalior
mutineers had been their _bête noir_, their object of apprehension, as
being powerful and not far distant. They occasionally heard news from
Gwalior, but of too uncertain a nature to satisfy their doubts. Early in
September one of the officers wrote: ‘A portion of the rebel army of
Gwalior has marched; but their intentions are not yet known. They still
say they are coming to turn us out of the fort, and perform all sorts of
gallant deeds. Had they come at first, they would have given us a good
deal of trouble, as we were not prepared for a siege—guns not mounted,
magazines not shell-proof, provisions not in sufficient quantity, and
(worst of all) two thousand women and children without any protection
from the enemy’s fire. All this is now being rapidly remedied, and now
we could stand a siege with comfort. One of the greatest wants is that
of tobacco; the soldiers have none; and few men know so well as they do
the comfort of a pipe after a hard day’s work, whether under a broiling
sun or in drenching rain.’ The British officers at Agra were embittered
by becoming acquainted with the fact, that many influential natives now
in rebellion were among those who made the most fervent demonstrations
of loyalty when the mutiny first began.
Of the affairs of Delhi we shall speak presently. Meanwhile, it may be
well to describe the movements of a distinct corps, having its origin in
the capture of that city. Although General Wilson seized all the gates
and buildings of the imperial city one by one, he could not prevent the
escape of the mutineers from the southern gate, the opposite to that
where the siege-works had been carried on. By the 21st of September,
when the conquest was completed, large bodies of the rebels were far
away, on their march to other scenes of struggle. The chief body marched
down the right bank of the Jumna on the Muttra road, with the intention
of crossing over into the Doab. Brigadier Showers was sent with a force
to pursue another body of rebels in another direction; but the
operations now under notice were those of the column under Colonel E. H.
Greathed (of H.M. 8th foot), organised at Delhi on the 23d of
September—about 3000 strong.[111] Starting on the 24th, Greathed crossed
the Jumna, and marched towards Bolundshuhur. Here a body of fugitive
mutineers was encountered on the 28th. A sharp action ensued, which
ended in the flight of the enemy, leaving behind them two guns and much
ammunition. As a consequence of this defeat, a newly set-up rajah, one
Waladad Khan, abandoned the fort of Malagurh, and fled. It was in the
blowing-up of this fort, by order of the colonel, that Lieutenant Home,
who had so distinguished himself at the storming of the Cashmere Gate,
was killed. One of his brother-officers said in a letter: ‘The loss of
poor Home has thrown a cloud over all our successes. He was brave among
brave men, and an honour to our service.’ Greathed advanced day after
day, burning villages which were known to have been nests of insurgents.
In one of those places, Koorjah, he found the skeleton of a European
woman, the head cut off, and the legs hacked and cut. On the 5th of
October, the column reached Allygurh, scoured through the town, and cut
up a large body of rebels, taking eleven guns from them. Greathed was at
Akerabad the next day, where Mungal Singh and his brother had raised the
standard of rebellion; but these chieftains were killed, as well as most
of their retainers. On the 9th, he reached Hattrass. At this place his
movements were suddenly disturbed; he had intended to march down the
Doab to aid Havelock, Outram, and Inglis; but now news from Agra reached
him that led to a change of plan. To understand this, attention must be
turned to the state of affairs in the Mahratta dominions of Scindia, the
northern boundary of which approached very near Agra.
From the day when Scindia’s Gwalior Contingent rose in mutiny against
British authority, on the 14th of June, nothing but the personal
faithfulness of Scindia himself prevented the mutineers from joining
their compatriots at Delhi or elsewhere. Every British officer being
driven away from Gwalior, the powerful army forming the Contingent might
easily have made itself master of all that part of the Mahratta
dominions; but Scindia, by a remarkable exercise of steadiness and
shrewdness, kept them near him. He would not make himself personally an
enemy to them; neither, on the other hand, would he express approval of
their act of mutiny. He still remained their paymaster, and held his
power over them partly by keeping their pay in arrear. All through the
months of July and August did this singular state of affairs continue. A
few detachments of the Contingent had marched off from other stations,
but the main body remained quiet. The Indore mutineers from Holkar’s
Contingent had for some time been encamped near them at Gwalior, much
against Scindia’s inclination. Early in September the two bodies
disagreed concerning future plans—the Indore men wishing to speed to
Delhi, the Gwalior men to Cawnpore. Some of the maharajah’s own troops,
distinct from the Contingent, were seduced from their allegiance by the
Indore men, and marched off with them on the 5th, with seven guns and a
good store of ammunition. Some of the budmashes or vagabonds of Gwalior
joined them; but the Gwalior Contingent proper still remained quiet near
that city. This quietness, however, did not promise to be of long
continuance. On the 7th, the native officers went to Scindia, and
demanded from him food and conveyance for a march either to Agra or to
Cawnpore. The maharajah’s response not being satisfactory to them, they
began to seize oxen, buffaloes, mules, horses, camels, and carts from
the neighbouring villagers, and a few elephants from the richer men.
Some violence against Scindia himself appeared probable; but he found
the main body of his own little army disposed to remain faithful, and
hence the Contingent had little inducement to attack him. The landowners
in the neighbourhood offered to aid him with their retainers, thus
lessening the danger to which he might otherwise have been exposed.
About the middle of the month a fierce struggle seemed imminent; but
Scindia and his supporters continued firm, and the Contingent did not
for some time attempt any manœuvre likely to be serious to the British.
We can therefore follow the steps of the other army of mischief-workers.
When the miscellaneous body of Indore mutineers, Gwalior traitors, and
budmashes left Gwalior, they proceeded towards the river Chumbul, which
they crossed on the 7th of September, and then took possession of the
fort of Dholpore, a place about thirty miles from Agra—at the point
where the trunk-road from Delhi to Bombay crosses the Chumbul, and
therefore a very important spot in relation to any arrival of
reinforcements for the British. In that very week the final bombardment
of Delhi began; and if the mutineers had marched thither, they might
seriously have embarrassed General Wilson’s operations. They appear,
however, to have remained near Dholpore, supporting and strengthening
themselves by plunder in the neighbouring region. When Delhi fell, and
its defenders escaped, the Dholpore mutineers—as we may now conveniently
call them—had no motive for marching towards the imperial city; but,
near the close of the month, they began to lay plans for an attack on
Agra.
When October arrived, Mr Reade, and Colonels Cotton and Frazer, had to
direct their attention not only to these Dholpore mutineers, but to
dangerous neighbours from other quarters. A glance at a map will shew
that when mutineers and marauders escaped from Delhi towards the Lower
Ganges, Agra would necessarily be not far from the line of route. When,
therefore, the authorities at the last-named city heard of the fall of
Delhi, they naturally looked with some anxiety to the course pursued by
the fugitives. They speedily heard that a crowd of mutineers, fanatics,
felons, and miscreants of every description, had found their way to
Muttra, and were engaged in constructing a bridge of boats over the
Jumna; in order, as appeared probable, to open a communication with the
Indore or Dholpore mutineers. Hence the extreme anxiety of the Agra
authorities that Greathed’s column, in pursuit of the fugitive rebels,
should march down the right instead of the left bank of the Jumna, in
order to aid Agra, and cut off the communication with Dholpore; and
hence great disappointment, when it was found that the active leader of
that column was marching rapidly on towards Cawnpore—without thinking of
Agra. At such a time, each officer naturally thought first and
principally of the safety of the city or station for which he was
responsible; and the commanders of movable columns were often
embarrassed by conflicting requisitions from different quarters.
[Illustration:
LIEUTENANT HOME, Bengal Engineers.
]
Such was the state of feeling in Agra at the end of September. Early in
October, matters became more serious. The authorities received news that
an attack on Agra was meditated by the rebels—comprising the 23d B. N.
I. and the 1st B. N. C. of the Indore Contingent, from Mhow; a part of
the fugitive forces from Delhi; and malcontents from Dholpore and the
neighbourhood. Means were immediately sought for frustrating this
attack. The rebels were known to be on the advance on the 6th; it was
also known that on that day Colonel Greathed had arrived with his column
at Akrabad, one day’s march from Allygurh, on his way towards Cawnpore.
It was thereupon resolved to obtain the aid of Greathed at Agra, before
he further prosecuted his march. This energetic officer, who was rapidly
following up a fugitive brigade from Delhi, very unwillingly postponed
an object on which he had set his heart; but the danger to Agra becoming
very imminent, he turned aside to lend his aid at that point. After
marching forty-four miles in twenty-eight hours—a tremendous achievement
in an Indian climate—Greathed arrived at the parade-ground of Agra on
the morning of the 10th of October. Before his tired troops could enjoy
even three hours’ rest, they found themselves engaged in battle with the
enemy, who suddenly attacked their camp. The rebels made a spirited dash
with their cavalry, and opened a brisk fire with artillery half hidden
behind luxuriant standing corn. Not a moment did Greathed delay. He
moved to the right with a view of outflanking the enemy and capturing
their guns on that side; and his arrangements in other quarters soon
enabled him to charge and capture the enemy’s guns and standards. On
they went, the mutineers retreating and Greathed following them up,
until he reached a village three miles out on the Gwalior road. Here
Colonel Cotton came up, and assumed the command; the infantry drove the
rebels to the five-mile point, and the cavalry and artillery continued
the pursuit; until at length the enemy were utterly routed. They lost
twelve guns, and the whole of their tents, baggage, ammunition, and
vehicles of every description. It was a complete discomfiture. Colonel
Greathed obtained, and deservedly, high praise for the celerity and
energy of his movements. By the time the battle and pursuit were over,
his cavalry had marched sixty-four and his infantry fifty-four miles in
thirty-six hours; while Captain Bourchier’s 9-pounder battery had come
in from Hattrass, thirty miles distant, during the night without a halt.
Greathed’s loss in the action was 11 killed and 56 wounded. It was a
strange time for the mutineers to make an attack on Agra. During the
siege of Delhi, Wilson could not have spared a single regiment from his
siege-camp, nor could any other general have brought resources to bear
on the relief of Agra; whereas now, in this second week of October,
Greathed with a strong column was within two days’ march of the city. If
they were not aware of this fact, then was their information less
complete than usual; if they hoped to check his advance down the Doab,
then did they wofully underrate his strength and gallantry.
While tracing briefly the progress of the movable column after this
battle of Agra, it may be well to advert to a source of vexation that
sometimes presented itself during the wars of the mutiny, at Agra as
elsewhere. Many of the gallant men concerned in struggling against the
mutineers were occasionally much perplexed by questions of seniority, at
times and places when they could refer for solution neither to the
governor-general nor to the commander-in-chief. Such was the case in
reference to Greathed’s column. General Gowan in Sirhind, General Penny
at Delhi, the chief-commissioner at Agra, all had some authority in
military matters in the Northwest Provinces. Colonel Cotton, at Agra,
finished the battle which Greathed began—not because it had been badly
fought, but because Cotton was senior to Greathed. Again, while Greathed
was marching quickly and fighting valiantly on the road to Cawnpore,
after the battle of Agra, Colonel Hope Grant of the 9th Lancers, made
brigadier in order that he might assume higher command, was sent out
from Delhi viâ Agra to supersede him—not because he was a better officer
than Greathed, but because he was senior in rank. Grant joined the
column on the 19th of October, and became its leader. The change caused
a busy paper-war between the generals and commissioners who had made the
respective appointments, and who could not, at such a troubled time,
rightly measure the relative strength of their own claims to authority.
Whether under Hope Grant, however, or under Greathed, the column was in
good hands. On the 19th, the column marched twenty-four miles, and
entered Minpooree. A native rajah had long ruled that place during the
anarchy of the provinces; but no sooner did he hear of the approach of
the British than he fled—leaving behind him several guns, 14,000 pounds
of powder, 230,000 rupees, and much other property, which had been taken
from the Company’s officers when the mutiny began. There was no
fighting, only a re-occupation. After another severe punishment of the
rebels at Kanouge on the 23d, the column marched towards Cawnpore, which
was reached on the 26th.
Returning to the affairs of the various Mahratta states, it may now be
mentioned that the Gwalior Contingent did at last, in the month of
October, make a move. They marched slowly and heavily (six regiments,
four batteries, and a siege-train), leaving Gwalior on the 15th, and
advancing eastward towards Jaloun and Calpee, as if with the intention
of crossing the Jumna at the last-named place into the Doab; but the
month came to an end without any serious demonstration on their part.
Had Nena Sahib been as bold and skilful as he was vicious, he might have
wrought great mischief to the English at this time. If he had placed
himself at the head of the Gwalior Contingent (which was fully
expected), and had marched with them southward through Bundelcund to the
Saugor and Nerbudda territories, he would have picked up rebellious
Bundelas at every village, and have advanced towards the Nerbudda in
such strength as to render it very doubtful whether the available Madras
and Bombay troops could have confronted him. He had ambition enough to
place himself at the head of all the Mahratta princes, but neither skill
nor courage for such a position. So far as concerns Agra, the residents
continued in the fort, in no great danger, but too weak in military to
engage in any extensive operations. The only contest, indeed, during the
rest of the month was on the 28th, when a party from the fort sallied
out, and dispersed a body of rebels assembled at Futtehpore Sikri.
The wide region comprised within the political limits of the Mahratta
and Rajpootana states was in a very disturbed condition during September
and October. Besides the Gwalior Contingent in Scindia’s dominions,
there were Holkar’s Contingent, the Bhopal and Kotah Contingents, the
Jhodpore legion, and other bodies of native troops, the partial mutiny
of which kept the country in perpetual agitation. All Bengal troops were
sources of mischief, for they were the very elements among which the
disaffection grew up; European troops could be sent neither from
Calcutta nor the Punjaub; and therefore it depended either on Bombay or
Madras (chiefly the former) to send troops by whom the insurgents could
be put down. These troops, for reasons already sufficiently explained,
were few in number; and it was a work of great difficulty to transfer
them from place to place where anarchy most prevailed; indeed, the
commanding officers were often distracted by appeals to them from
various quarters for aid—appeals incompatible one with another.
Colonel Lawrence had a contest with the mutineers of the Jhodpore
legion, about the middle of September, in Rajpootana. He marched to and
through various places, the names of which have hardly been heard of in
England, such as Beaur, Chiliamas, Barr, Peeplia, Bugree, Chaputtia, and
Awah; these movements took place between the 14th and the 18th of the
month; and on the last-named date he encountered the rebels at Awah. He
had with him 200 of H.M. 83d foot, 250 Mhairwara battalion, two
squadrons of Bombay native cavalry, and 5 guns. It was an artillery
attack on both sides, lasting three hours. Lawrence seems to have
distrusted his own strength; he would not bring his infantry and cavalry
into action, fearful of losing any of his men just at that place and
time. In short, his attack failed; the rebels retained hold of Awah, and
Lawrence, finding his supplies running short, retired to Beaur. The
rebels had the guns of the legion with them, and worked them well. It
was an untoward affair; for the Rajah of Jhodpore, friendly to the
English, had just before met with a defeat of his own troops by the same
legion, in an action which involved the death of Captain Monck Mason,
the British resident; and now prestige was still further damaged by the
retreat of Lawrence after a desultory action. The colonel had come with
a small Bombay column to Ajmeer, to watch the movements of rebels in and
near Ajmeer, Nuseerabad, Awah, and other places in that part of
Rajpootana; and any discomfiture at such a time was likely to afford a
bad example. At Kotali, Neemuch, Mundisore, Mehidpore, Indore, Mhow,
Bhopal, &c., an uneasy feeling similarly prevailed, arising out of
disturbances too small to be separately noticed here, but important as
indicating a wide belt of disaffected country between the Jumna and the
Bombay presidency. The strange character of the whole of that region, in
a political sense, was well expressed by an English officer, who,
writing from Neemuch, said: ‘This station is in the heart of Rajpootana,
a country abounding in and surrounded by native states which compose
anything but one family, and between any two of which it is very
difficult to determine at any given time what relation exists. There are
Holkar’s troops, and Scindia’s troops, and Salomba’s troops, and the
mercenary troops of Odeypore, the Kotah Contingent, the Jeypoor,
Jhodpore, Meywar, and Malwar corps, and a host more; and when any little
dispute arises in the country, a sort of jumble takes place between
these bodies, during which two of them at least are pretty sure to come
into collision.’ These petty quarrels among the chieftains were
sometimes advantageous to the British; but the soldiery were so strongly
affected with mutinous tendencies, that a friendly rajah could seldom
give practical value to his friendliness.
It is unnecessary to notice in detail the petty military operations of
that region. No great success attended any of them. One was at Nimbhera,
or Nimbhaira, between Neemuch and Nuseerabad. Here a contest took place
on the 20th of September, in which a native rajah was worsted by Colonel
Jackson and 350 miscellaneous troops. Another occurred some weeks later,
when the Mundisore insurgents, on the 22d of October, made an attack on
Jeerun, a town about ten miles from Neemuch. A force of about 400 men
was at once sent out from this station, chiefly Bombay native troops,
but headed by 50 of H.M. 83d foot, under Captains Simpson, Bannister,
and Tucker. The enemy were found drawn up in force. Tucker brought two
guns and a mortar to bear upon them, and sent his infantry to attack the
town; but the enemy checked them by overpowering numbers, and captured
the mortar. The cavalry now made an attack, followed by the infantry,
and the mortar was speedily retaken. The enemy were driven into the
fort, and their fire entirely silenced. The Neemuch force was not strong
enough to take the fort at that time, but the insurgents evacuated it
during the night, and marched off. The encounter was rather severe to
the British officers engaged; for two of them (Captains Tucker and Read)
were killed, and five wounded. The miscreants cut off Captain Tucker’s
head as soon as he had fallen.
One of the most pathetic stories of that period had relation, not to a
battle or a wholesale slaughter, but to the assassination of a father
and two sons under very cowardly and inexplicable circumstances. Major
Burton was British political agent at Kotah, a Rajpootana state of which
the chief town lies northeast of Neemuch—a situation he had filled for
thirteen years, always on friendly terms with the native rajah and the
people generally. He had been four months at Neemuch, but returned to
Kotah on the 12th of October, accompanied by two sons scarcely arrived
at manhood. On the 15th, two regiments of the rajah’s native army
revolted, and surrounded the Residency in which Major Burton and his
sons had just taken up their abode. What followed may best be told in
the words of a third son, Mr C. W. Burton, of Neemuch.[112]
Let us on to Delhi, and watch how the imperial city fared after the
siege.
As soon as the conquest had been completely effected, on the 21st of
September,[113] it became necessary to make arrangements for the
internal government of the city, irrespective of any more permanent or
important appointments. Colonel Burn was made military governor. This
officer had been thirty years in the Company’s service—first in the
Bengal native infantry; then in raising three native regiments on the
Afghan frontier; next in the operations of the Afghan war; then in those
of the Sikh war; afterwards as secretary to the commissioners of the
Punjaub; and, lastly, as an officer in Nicholson’s movable column.
Colonel Burn being made military governor of Delhi, Colonel Innes
received the appointment of commandant of the palace. Mr Hervey Harris
Greathed, who had been appointed civil commissioner for Delhi as soon as
the murder of Mr Simon Fraser on the 11th of May became known, lived
through all the vicissitudes of the siege, but sank through illness
almost as soon as the victorious army entered the imperial city; he was
succeeded in his office by Mr Saunders. Another change may here be
mentioned. General Wilson, worn out by his anxieties and labours in the
siege-camp, retired two or three weeks after the conquest, for the
recovery of his health in the hill-country, and was succeeded in the
supreme command at Delhi by General Penny—subject to any more
authoritative change by order of the Calcutta government.
Within, the city of Delhi was a very desolation. Nearly all the native
inhabitants left it, in dread lest the English soldiers should retaliate
upon them the atrocities perpetrated by the insurgents upon defenceless
Europeans. The authorities had no wish for the immediate return of these
people, until it could be ascertained to what extent the traders and
working population had connived at the rebellion of the sepoys. Even
many weeks after all fighting had ceased in and near the city, one of
the officers wrote of the state of Delhi in the following terms: ‘Every
wall or bastion that faced our camp is in almost shapeless ruin; but the
white marble pavilions of the palace rise unharmed along the Jumna’s
bank. In one of these live the.... There is no describing the beauty and
quaintness of their rooms. I long for photographs to send home. They are
all of inlaid marble, with semianahs pitched in the zenana courts
between. But all around speaks of awful war—the rows on rows of captured
guns—the groups of English soldiers at every post; and not English only,
for our brave defenders the Goorkhas, Sikhs, and Punjaubees mingle among
them. A strange army indeed, with not a trace of pipeclay! It is a
frightful drive from the palace to the Cashmere Gate—every house rent,
riven, and tottering; the church battered, and piles of rubbish on every
side. Alas! the burnt European houses and deserted shops! Desolate
Delhi! and yet we are told it is clearing and much improved since the
storming of the place. It has only as yet a handful of inhabitants in
its great street, the Chandnee Chowk, who are all Hindoos, I believe.
Many miserable wretches prowl through the camps outside the city begging
for admission at the various gates; but none are admitted whose
respectability cannot be vouched for. Cart-loads of ball are being daily
dug out from the Moree Bastion, now a shapeless, battered mass.’
The conquerors of Delhi, wishing to prevent for ever the imperial city
from becoming a stronghold for rebels, proposed to destroy at once all
the fortifications. The Calcutta government, on receiving news of the
final capture, telegraphed to General Wilson to the following effect:
‘The governor-general in council desires that you will at once proceed
to demolish the defences of Delhi. You will spare places of worship,
tombs, and all ancient buildings of interest. You will blow up, or
otherwise destroy all fortifications; and you will so far destroy the
walls and gates of the city as to make them useless for defence. As you
will not be able to do this completely with the force at present
available at Delhi, you will select the points at which the work may be
commenced with the best effect, and operate there.’ After General Wilson
had retired, and General Penny had assumed command at Delhi, information
reached Sir John Lawrence at Lahore of the intended demolition. He
evidently did not approve of the plan in its totality, and suggested
delay even in commencing it, until further orders could be received from
Calcutta. He thus telegraphed to Delhi on the 21st of October: ‘I do not
think any danger could arise from delay. If the fortifications be
dismantled, I would suggest that it be done as was the case at Lahore;
we filled in the ditches by cutting down the glacis, lowered the walls,
and dismantled the covering-works in front of the gates and bastions. A
wall of ten or twelve feet high could do no harm, and would be very
useful for police purposes. Delhi, without any walls, would be exposed
to constant depredations from the Meeras, Goojurs, and other predatory
races. Even such a partial demolition will cost several lacs of rupees
and take a long time; at Lahore it cost two lacs, and occupied upwards
of two years.’
One subject connected with the capture of Delhi was curiously
illustrative of the state of the public mind as exhibited during the
autumn of 1857. Anything less than a sanguinary retaliation for the
atrocities committed by the natives in India was in many quarters
regarded almost as a treasonable shrinking from justice. Kill, kill,
kill all—was the injunction implied, if not expressed. Among the British
residents in India this desire for blood was so strong, that it
distempered the judgment of persons otherwise amiable and generous.
Instead of acting on the principle that it is better for a few guilty to
escape than for one innocent man to be punished, the doctrine
extensively taught at that time reversed this rule of conduct. It is of
course not difficult to account for this. The feelings of those who, a
few short months before, had been peacefully engaged in the usual
Anglo-Indian mode of life, were suddenly rent by a terrible calamity.
Husbands, brothers, sons—wives, sisters, daughters—were not only put to
death unjustly, but the black deed was accompanied by brutalities that
struck horror into the hearts of all survivors. It was not at such a
time that men could judge calmly. The subject is mentioned here because
it points to one of the difficulties, almost without parallel in
intensity, that pressed upon the nobleman whose fate it was to govern
India at such a time. Every proclamation or dispatch, issued by Viscount
Canning, which contained instructions to the Company’s officers tending
to leniency towards any of the dark skins, was misquoted,
misrepresented, violently condemned, and attributed to what in bitter
scorn was called the ‘clemency of Canning.’ It required great moral
courage, at such a time, to form a definite plan of action, and to
maintain it in spite of clamour. Differences of opinion on these
difficult matters of state policy are of course reasonable enough; the
point is mentioned here only in its historical relation to an almost
frenzied state of public opinion at a particular time.
[Illustration:
COLONEL BURN, Military Governor of Delhi.
]
The treatment of the King of Delhi was one of the subjects connected
with this state of feeling. When taken a prisoner, the dethroned monarch
was not shot. ‘Why is this?’ it was asked. Because Captain Hodson
promised the king his life if he would surrender quietly. For a long
time this gallant officer was an object of violent abuse for this line
of conduct. ‘Why did Hodson dare to do this?’ was the inquiry. It was
not until evidence clear and decisive had been afforded, of General
Wilson’s sanction having been given to this proceeding, that the subject
fell into its proper place as one open to fair and temperate discussion.
Again, letters written anonymously at Delhi appeared in the Calcutta
newspapers, announcing that the ex-royal family were treated with the
most obsequious deference; and the ‘clemency’ was again contrasted with
the ‘righteous demand for blood.’ So much of this as was untrue
gradually fell out of repute; and then the simple fact became known that
the king was to be tried as a traitor, but was not to be treated as a
felon until found guilty. Mrs Hodson, wife to the officer who effected
the capture, paid a visit to the royal captives, which she described in
a highly interesting letter to an English relation, afterwards made
public; whatever else it shewed, it afforded no indication that the aged
profligate was treated with a degree of luxurious attention offensive to
the European residents of the place.[114]
For all else, Delhi furnished nothing calling for special notice during
the six weeks following the siege.
Of two columns, despatched from Delhi to pursue and punish the rebels
after the siege, that under Colonel Greathed has already been noticed. A
second, under Brigadier Showers, was engaged throughout October, mostly
west and northwest of Delhi. Some of the petty rajahs between the Jumna
and the Sutlej were in an embarrassing position; they would have drawn
down on their heads eventual defeat by the British if they joined the
rebels; while they were in immediate danger from the enmity of marauders
and mutineers if they remained faithful to the British. To their credit
be it said, most of them remained true to their treaties; they assisted
the British in a time of trouble to the extent of their means.
Especially was this the case in relation to the Rajahs of Jheend and
Putialah, without whose friendly aid it would have scarcely been
possible for Sir John Lawrence to send reinforcements from the Punjaub
to General Wilson at Delhi. An exception was afforded by the Rajah of
Jhujjur, whose treacherous conduct earned for him a severe defeat by
Brigadier Showers about the middle of October. That officer was, later
in the month, actively engaged in defeating and punishing rebels at
Sonah, Bullubgurh, and other places.
Of the country north and northeast of Delhi, little need be said.
Rohilcund was almost wholly in the hands of the rebels during September
and October. In the districts of Bareilly, Boodayoun, Mooradabad,
Shahjehanpoor, and Bijnour, the English might be reckoned by tens—so
fierce had been the tempest which had swept them away. Happily Nynee Tal
still remained a refuge for many non-combatants, who could not yet be
safely removed to Calcutta or Bombay. Khan Bahadoor Khan—a notorious
offender whose name has more than once been mentioned in these pages,
and who, after being a well-paid deputy-collector in the Company’s
service, shewed his gratitude by committing great atrocities as
self-elected Nawab of Bareilly—planned an attack on Nynee Tal about the
middle of September. He sent a force of 800 men, under his nephew, Nizam
Ullie Khan. Major Ramsey, however, speedily mustered 300 Goorkhas, and
about 50 miscellaneous volunteers and troopers; this force, sallying
forth from Nynee Tal on the 18th, encountered the Bareilly rebels at
Huldwanee, near the foot of the hills, and gave so effective a defeat to
them as to prevent any repetition of the attack for a very long time.
All around the district of Meerut the movements of the rebels were
sensibly checked by the fact that that important military station still
remained in the hands of the British. After the first day of outbreak
(10th of May), Meerut was provisioned and intrenched in such a way as to
render it safe from all attacks, especially as the garrison had a good
store of artillery; and as small bands of trusty troops could
occasionally be spared for temporary expeditions, the mutineers were
kept from any very near approach to Meerut itself. The chief annoyance
was from the Goojurs and other predatory tribes, who sought to reap a
golden harvest from the social anarchy around them.
Happily, the extreme northwest remained nearly at peace. The Punjaub,
under the firm control of Sir John Lawrence, although occasionally
disturbed by temporary acts of lawlessness, was in general tranquil. A
few English troops ascended from Kurachee by way of the Indus and
Moultan; and a few native regiments came from Bombay and Sinde; but the
Sikhs and Mussulmans of the Punjaub itself were found to be for the most
part reliable, under the able hands of Cotton and Edwardes. In Sinde a
similar state of affairs was exhibited: a few isolated acts of
rebellion, sufficient to set the authorities on the alert without
seriously disquieting them. On one occasion a company of native
artillery was disarmed at Hydrabad, on suspicion of being tainted with
disloyalty. On another occasion the 21st native infantry was disarmed at
Kurachee, because twenty or thirty of the men displayed bad symptoms.
And on another, a few men of the 16th native infantry were detected in
an attempt to excite their companions to mutiny. All these instances
tended to shew, that if Sinde had been nearer to Hindostan or Oude, the
Bengal portion of the army there stationed would in all probability have
revolted; but being in a remote region, and among a people who had few
sympathies with Brahmin sepoys, the incendiarism died out for lack of
fuel.
Happily, again, the southern or peninsular portion of India was left
nearly free from the curse of rebellion during the two months now under
notice in Mysore, in the various provinces of the Madras presidency, in
the South Mahratta country, and in the provinces around Bombay, the
disturbances were few. In the Deccan, the Nizam and his prime minister
remained stanch throughout; and although the city of Hyderabad was kept
in much commotion by fanatical moulvies and fakeers, and by turbulent
Rohillas and Deccanees, there was no actual mutiny of entire regiments,
or successful scheme of rebellion. At Ahmedabad, midway between Bombay
and the disturbed region of Rajpootana, one of those terrible events
occurred on the 26th of October—a blowing away of five men from guns.
All the officers whose duty it was to attend on those fearful occasions
united in hoping that such a sight might never again meet their eyes.
[Illustration:
Ruins near Kootub Minar, Delhi.
]
-----
Footnote 105:
‘I told off my men rapidly, and formed them into parties, so as
completely to surround and cover every outlet and corner. The main
party, consisting mostly of my own particular sharpshooters and
body-guard, watched the front; another moved towards the town, there
to arrest an educated Bengalee, agent to the conspirators; another to
the rear, to cut off escape towards the town; while my friend the
Political crept quietly past some outhouses with his police, and under
the palace walls awaited my signal for opening the ball.
‘Before long the ominous barking of a disturbed cur in the direction
of the party sent after the prime-minister proclaimed that no time was
to be lost. Off I went towards the guard-shed in front of the palace,
my personal sharpshooters following at the double. The noise, of
course, awoke the sleeping guard, and as they started up from their
slumbers I caught one firmly by the throat; the little Goorkha next me
felled with a but-end blow another of them while they were getting to
arms, I having strictly forbidden my men to fire until obliged; the
remainder, as we rushed in, took to flight, and my eager party wished
to fire on them, which I prevented, not considering such valiant game
worth powder and shot. In the darkness and confusion, no means of
entrance could at once be found. My police guide, however, having been
often in the palace, knew every room in it, and, thrusting himself in
at a door, acted ferret to perfection, and by dint of activity, soon
brought me into the presence of the rajah, who, though young in years,
is old in sin: he refused to surrender or admit any one—a resolution
which cooled instanter on my calling my men to set fire to the palace;
he then with a bad grace delivered up to me his state-sword. A shout
from the opposite doors proclaimed an entry there. The queen-mother
and the rest of the female royalty and attendants were seized while
trying to descend on that side. Then came a chorus of shouting and
struggling, and bawling for lights and assistance; at last, a lamp
being procured, we proceeded to examine the palace: we wandered in
dark passages and cells, while I mounted a guard at every door. The
air being confined and heated within the royal residence, I sat
outside until after daybreak, and then proceeded to rummage for papers
and letters; several boxes of these we appropriated, and counted out
his treasure, all in gold vessels and ingots; we found a quantity of
arms, spiked some guns, one of them of French make; all day we were
hard at work, searching and translating papers. The prime-minister was
found at his house, fast asleep. In the heat of the afternoon, we went
to his residence in the town, and by dint of keeping fans going over
us, carried out a thorough search. We did not get as many of his
papers as we wanted, he having been told by his correspondents to
destroy all letters after reading them.
‘At sunset I carried off my prisoners over the same bad ground by
which we had so stealthily arrived. We were followed by about 2000
infuriated Mussulmans, crying, praying, and prostrating themselves to
the object of their lingering hope of rebellion (the rajah), but we
drove them off.’
Footnote 106:
‘The ejected civilians from Dorunda had come on ahead and offered our
small party breakfast, which we gladly accepted. While waiting until
it was ready, the chief-commissioner got an electric-telegraph
dispatch from the governor-general, ordering the whole of the 53d
party under Major English back again to the main trunk-road. You never
saw anything like the long faces they all had at this announcement;
for the commissioner had just had intelligence on which he thought he
could rely, that the mutineers were still kept at bay by the party at
the pass, through which they must get through to effect their escape
from us; and they did not think that 250 Madras sepoys with two guns
would be sufficient to attack 850 desperate men caught in a trap.
Moreover, the retirement of the Europeans would run like wildfire
through the district; and I heard them all say they would not answer
for what might happen.’ The column _did_ advance to Dorunda, and
dispersed the miscreants; but it had to hasten to other regions, and
then—‘All the residents are very much disgusted at our going back, as
the moral effect of our arrival must be great, the natives here having
as much idea of a European soldier as they have of a whale, never
having seen either; and the fact of their being put as prisoners under
a European guard frightens them more than a thousand deaths.’
Footnote 107:
Shut the mouth of slanderers, bite and
Eat up backbiters, trample down the sinners,
You, _Sutrsingharka_.
Kill the British, exterminate them,
_Mat Chundee_.
Let not the enemy escape, nor the offspring of such,
Oh, _Singharka_.
Shew favour to Shunker!
Support your slave!
Listen to the cry of religion,
_Mathalka_.
Eat up the unclean!
Make no delay!
Now devour them,
And that quickly,
_Ghormatkalka_.
The words in italics are various names of the goddess Devee or Deva,
‘the destroyer.’
Footnote 108:
See p. 111.
Footnote 109:
Chap. vii., pp. 109-111. Chap. x., pp. 173, 174. Chap. xvii., pp.
282-286.
Footnote 110:
‘It is the melancholy duty of the Right Honourable the
Governor-general in Council to announce the death of the Honourable
John Russell Colvin, the lieutenant-governor of the Northwest
Provinces.
‘Worn by the unceasing anxieties and labours of his charge, which
placed him in the very front of the dangers by which of late India has
been threatened, health and strength gave way; and the
Governor-general in Council has to deplore with sincere grief the loss
of one of the most distinguished among the servants of the East India
Company.
‘The death of Mr Colvin has occurred at a time when his ripe
experience, his high ability, and his untiring energy would have been
more than usually valuable to the state.
‘But his career did not close before he had won for himself a high
reputation in each of the various branches of administration to which
he was at different times attached, nor until he had been worthily
selected to fill the highest position in Northern India; and he leaves
a name which not friends alone, but all who have been associated with
him in the duties of government, and all who may follow in his path,
will delight to honour.
‘The Right Honourable the Governor-general in Council directs that the
flag shall be lowered half-mast high, and that 17 minute-guns shall be
fired at the seats of government in India upon the receipt of the
present notification.’
Footnote 111:
H.M. 8th foot.
H.M. 75th foot.
2d Punjaub infantry.
4th Punjaub infantry.
H.M. 9th Lancers.
1st Punjaub cavalry.
2d Punjaub cavalry.
5th Punjaub cavalry.
Two troops horse-artillery.
Light field-battery.
Pearson’s 9-pounder battery.
Footnote 112:
‘The political agent was himself the first to discover their approach;
and, as he had only returned to Kotah three days previously from an
absence of four months, he believed the number of people he saw
advancing merely to be some of the chief subordinates coming to pay
him the usual visit of ceremony and respect. In a second he was
cruelly undeceived. The mutineers rushed into the house; the servants,
both private and public, abandoned him with only one exception (a
camel-driver); and the agent, his boys, and this one solitary servant
fled to the top of the house for safety, snatching up such few arms as
were within their reach. The fiends pursued; but the cowardly ruffians
were driven back for the time by the youngest boy shooting one in the
thigh. When there, they naturally hoped the agency-servants or their
own would have returned with assistance from the chief; but no—all
fled, and no help came. In the meantime, the mutineers proceeded to
loot the house, and they (the major and his sons) saw from their
position all their property carried away. A little while and two guns
were brought to play upon the bungalow, the upper part of which caught
fire from the lighted sticks which the miscreants from time to time
threw up. Balls fell around them, the little room at the top fell in,
and they were yet unhurt—and this for five long and weary hours. Major
Burton wished to parley with the mutineers, in the hope they would be
contented if he gave himself up, and allow his boys to escape; but his
children would not allow of such a sacrifice for their sakes; and like
brave men and good Christians, they all knelt down and uttered their
last prayers to that God who will surely avenge their cause. All now
seemed comparatively quiet, and they began to hope the danger over,
and let down the one servant who was still with them on a mission to
the Sikh soldiers and others, who were placed by the chief for the
personal protection of the agent round his bungalow, and of whom at
the time there were not less than 140, to beg of them to loosen the
boat, that an escape might be attempted across the river. They said:
“We have had no orders.” At this moment a shot from a pistol was
fired. Scaling-ladders had been obtained, the murderers ascended the
walls, and the father and his sons were at one fell stroke
destroyed.... The maharajah was enabled to recover the bodies of the
agent and both his sons in the evening, and they were carefully buried
by his order. Dr Salder’s house was attacked at the same time with the
agency-house. He was cut down outside, in sight of the agent, as was
also Mr Saviell, the doctor of the dispensary in the city, and one or
two others whose names are not certain.’
Footnote 113:
Chap. xviii., pp. 295-315.
Footnote 114:
‘There is a report, which has been mischievously set about, and may
have mischievous consequences—namely, that the king has the whole of
his retinue, and has returned to his own apartments in the palace.
‘This is perfectly untrue. I went with Mr Saunders, the civil
commissioner, and his wife, to see the unfortunate and guilty wretch.
We mounted a flight of stone steps, at the bottom and top of which was
a European sentry. A small low door opened into a room, half of which
was partitioned off with a grass-matting called chitac, behind which
was a woman cooking some atrocious compound, if I might judge from the
smell. In the other half was a native bedstead—that is, a frame of
bamboo on four legs, with grass-rope strung across it; on this was
lying and smoking a hookah an old man with a long white beard; no
other article of furniture whatever was in the room, and I am almost
ashamed to say that a feeling of pity mingled with my disgust at
seeing a man recently lord of an imperial city, almost unparalleled
for riches and magnificence, confined in a low, close, dirty room,
which the lowest slave of his household would scarcely have occupied,
in the very palace where he had reigned supreme, with power of life
and death, untrammelled by any law, within the precincts of a royal
residence as large as a considerable-sized town; streets, galleries,
towers, mosques, forts, and gardens, a private and a public hall of
justice, and innumerable courts, passages, and staircases. Its
magnificence can only be equalled by the atrocities which have been
committed there. But to go back to the degraded king. The boy, Jumma
Bukht, repeated my name after Mr Saunders. The old man raised his head
and looked at me, then muttered something I could not hear, and at the
moment the boy, who had been called from the opposite door, came and
told me that his mother, the begum, wished to see me. Mrs Saunders
then took possession of me, and we went on into a smaller, darker,
dirtier room than the first, in which were some eight or ten women
crowding round a common “charpoy” or couch, on which was a dark, fat,
shrewd, but sensual-looking woman, to whom my attention was
particularly drawn. She took hold of my hand—I shuddered a little—and
told me that my husband was a great warrior; but that if the king’s
life and her son’s had not been promised them by the government, the
king was preparing a great army which would have annihilated us. The
other women stood round in silence till her speech was finished, and
then crowded round, asking how many children I had, and if they were
all boys; examined my dress, and seemed particularly amused by my
bonnet and parasol. They were, with one exception, coarse, low-caste
women, as devoid of ornament as of beauty. Zeenat Mahal asked me—a
great honour, I found, which I did not appreciate—to sit down on her
bed; but I declined, as it looked so dirty. Mr Saunders was much
amused at my refusal, and told me it would have been more than my life
was worth six months before to have done so; and I have no doubt of
it.’
[Illustration:
Lucknow, from the Observatory.
]
CHAPTER XXI.
THE RESCUE AT LUCKNOW, BY SIR COLIN CAMPBELL.
A little care is needed to avoid confusion in the use of the words
‘siege,’ ‘defence,’ and ‘relief,’ relating to Lucknow—so peculiar and
complicated were the military operations in and near that city during
the mutiny. In the first place, there was the defence of the Residency
by Brigadier Inglis, during July, August, and September: the mutineers
and rebels in the city itself being the besiegers. Secondly, in the
closing week of September, came the siege of Lucknow city by the British
under Havelock, Outram, and Neill: the rebels being the besieged, and
Inglis’s little band, still shut up within the Residency enclosure,
being unable to take an active part in the operations. Next, for a
further period of seven or eight weeks, a renewed defence of the British
position was maintained by Havelock, Outram, and Inglis—the mutineers
and rebels being, as in the first instance, the besiegers. Then, in the
third week of November, occurred a siege of the city by Sir Colin
Campbell: the mutineers and rebels being the defenders, and the British
inmates of the Residency being enabled to aid the operations of the
commander-in-chief. After this, there was another defence of the Alum
Bagh against the rebels by Outram, and another siege of Lucknow by
Campbell. It follows, therefore, that the ‘siege,’ the ‘defence,’ or the
‘relief’ of Lucknow should not be mentioned without defining the period
to which the expression refers.
With this explanatory remark, the scope of the present chapter may be
easily shewn. In former pages[115] the eventful defence of the Residency
at Lucknow from the beginning of July to near the close of September, by
Brigadier Inglis, was described; together with the arrival of a small
army under Havelock and Outram, and the terrible conflict in the streets
of the city. In the present chapter the sequel of the story will be
given—shewing how it arose that Havelock and Outram could not escort the
suffering women and children, sick and wounded, from Lucknow to a place
of safety; how they struggled on for eight weeks longer; what
preparations Sir Colin Campbell made to collect an army of relief; how
he fought his way to Lucknow; and by what felicitous arrangements he
safely brought away those who, from sex, age, sickness, or wounds, were
unable to defend themselves against a fierce and relentless enemy.
On the 26th of September, when a few hours’ sleep had closed the
agitating proceedings of the previous day, it was found that the
‘relief’ of Lucknow was a relief rather in name than in substance. Sir
Henry Havelock surrendered the command which had been generously left in
his hands up to this time by a superior officer; Brigadier Inglis
surrendered the military control of the intrenched position, or rather
continued to hold it under the supervision of another; while Sir James
Outram, in virtue of an arrangement previously made, assumed the
leadership of all the British forces, and the exercise of all British
power, throughout Oude. At present, this leadership and power were of
humble dimensions, for he commanded very little more of the province
than the few acres at the Residency and the Alum Bagh. Of the gallant
troops, under 3000 in number, who, led by Havelock, Outram, and Neill,
had left Cawnpore on the 19th of September, nearly one-third were
stricken down by the time the Residency was reached. The survivors were
too few in number to form a safe escort for the women and children from
Lucknow to Cawnpore; the march would have been an awful one, marked by
bloodshed at every step; the soldiers, distracted by the double duties
of protectors and combatants, would have been too weak for either. They
brought muscle and sinew to aid in constructing countermines and
batteries; they enlarged the area of the intrenched or fortified
position—but they could not rescue those who had so long borne the
wonderful siege.
Some of the troops, in charge of guns, baggage, and baggage animals, had
defended a position outside the Residency enclosure during the night;
and arrangements were now made to secure the new or enlarged
area—including the Clock Tower, the Jail, a mosque, the Taree Kothee,
the Chuttur Munzil palace, the Fureed Buksh palace, the Pyne Bagh, and
other buildings and gardens. It was not without severe fighting and much
loss on the 26th that the wounded were placed in safety, the guns
secured, and the new position fortified. When these palaces, which had
until now been respected, were conquered from the enemy, they were
regarded as fair military spoil. The buildings formed a labyrinth of
court-yards, inner gardens, balconies, gateways, passages, verandahs,
rotundas, outhouses, and pavilions; and all became a scene of plunder.
‘Everywhere,’ says Mr Rees, ‘might be seen people helping themselves to
whatever they pleased. Jewels, shawls, dresses, pieces of satin, silk,
broadcloths, coverings, rich embroidered velvet saddles for horses and
elephants, the most magnificent divan carpets studded with pearls,
dresses of cloth of gold, turbans of the most costly brocade, the finest
muslins, the most valuable swords and poniards, thousands of flint-guns,
caps, muskets, ammunition, cash, books, pictures, European clocks,
English clothes, full-dress officers’ uniforms, epaulettes,
aiguillettes, manuscripts, charms; vehicles of the most grotesque forms,
shaped like fish, dragons, and sea-horses; imauns or representations of
the Prophet’s hands, cups, saucers, cooking-utensils, china-ware
sufficient to set up fifty merchants in Lombard Street, scientific
instruments, ivory telescopes, pistols; and (what was better than all)
tobacco, tea, rice, grain, spices, and vegetables.’ There is no proof
that much order was observed in the partition or distribution; every one
appears to have helped himself to what he pleased; and many collected
large stores of useful and ornamental articles which they afterwards
sold at high prices. There was a good deal of luxurious living for the
first few days, on the savoury provisions found in the palaces; and we
may in some degree imagine how this was enjoyed, after such sorry
rations of chupatties, stewed peas, and morsels of tough gun-bullock
beef. There was, perhaps, something undignified in all this scrambling
spoliation that jars with one’s notions of heroism and exalted courage;
but military men are accustomed to overlook it in the moment of victory.
When Sir James Outram clearly ascertained that the rebels and mutineers,
instead of escaping from the city, were closing in more and more
resolutely, he saw that no departure would be practicable either for
officers or men, military or civilians, women or children. He
endeavoured to open negotiations with Maun Singh, a powerful thalookdar
or landowner;[116] to win him over to the side of the British, and
thereby lessen the difficulties of the position; but the wily Oudian,
balancing the relative advantages of loyalty and rebellion, gave
specious answers on which no dependence could be placed. It became
necessary to prepare for a new defence against a new siege. All the old
‘garrisons’ were strengthened, and new ones formed; all the guns and
mortars were placed in effective positions, and all the soldiers told
off to regular duties. As Outram and Havelock had brought scarcely any
provisions with them into the Residency; and as those found in the
palaces were articles of luxury rather than of solid food, a very
careful commissariat adjustment became necessary—it being now evident
that the daily rations must of necessity be small in quantity and coarse
in quality. The enemy renewed their old system of firing, day after day,
into the British position; they broke down the bridges over canals and
small streams between the Residency and the Alum Bagh; and they
captured, or sought to capture, every one who attempted to leave the
intrenchment. On the other hand, the British made frequent sorties, to
capture guns, blow up buildings, and dislodge parties of the enemy. Six
days after the entry of Outram and Havelock, a soldier was found under
circumstances not a little strange. Some of the garrison having sallied
forth to capture two guns on the Cawnpore road, a private of the Madras
Europeans was discovered in a dry well, where the poor fellow had been
hiding several days. He had fortunately some tea-leaves and biscuits in
his pockets, on which he had managed to support life; he had heard the
enemy all round him, but had not dared to utter a sound. The well
contained the dead body of a native sepoy; and the atmosphere hence
became so pestilential and frightful that the poor European was wont to
creep out at night to breathe a little fresh air. Great was his joy when
at length he heard friendly voices; he shouted loudly for help, in spite
of his exhausted state, and was barely saved from being shot by his
countrymen as a rebel, so black and filthy was his appearance.
Throughout the month of October did this state of affairs in Lucknow
continue. Outram had brought his guns into the intrenchment by clearing
a passage for them through the palaces; he had destroyed Phillips’ or
Philip’s Battery, with which the enemy had been accustomed greatly to
annoy the garrison; he had blown up and cleared away a mass of buildings
on the Cawnpore road; he had strengthened all the points of the position
held by himself and Havelock; but still he could neither send aid to the
Alum Bagh, nor receive aid from it. He could do nothing but maintain his
position, until Sir Colin Campbell should be able to advance from
Cawnpore with a new army. A few messages, in spite of the enemy’s
vigilance, were sent and received. Outram was glad to learn that a
convoy of provisions had reached the Alum Bagh from Cawnpore, and that
Greathed was marching down the Doab with a column from Delhi. As for
Lucknow itself, matters remained much as before—sorties, firing, blowing
up, &c.; but it must at the same time be admitted that Outram was more
favourably placed in this respect than Inglis had been; his fighting-men
were three or four times as numerous, and were thus enabled to guard all
the posts with an amount of labour less terribly exhausting. Danger was,
of course, not over; cannon-balls and bullets still did their work. The
authoress of the _Lady’s Diary_ on one day recorded: ‘An 18-pounder came
through our unfortunate room; it broke the panel of the door, and
knocked the whole of the barricade down, upsetting everything. My
dressing-table was sent flying through the door, and if the shot had
come a little earlier, my head would have gone with it. The box where E.
usually sits to nurse baby was smashed flat.’ Breakfasts of chupatties
and boiled peas were now seldom relieved by better fare; many a diner
rose from his meal nearly as hungry as when he sat down. Personal attire
was becoming more and more threadbare. Poor Captain Fulton’s very old
flannel-shirt, time-worn and soiled, sold by auction for forty-five
rupees—four pounds ten shillings sterling.
Little news could be obtained from the city itself, beyond the limits of
the British position; but that little tended to shew that the rebels had
set up a natural son of the deposed king as ‘Padishah’ of Oude, as a
sort of tributary prince to the King of Delhi. Being a child only eight
or ten years old, the real power was vested in a minister and a council
of state. The minister was one Shirreff-u-Dowlah; the commander-in-chief
was Hissamut-u-Dowlah; the council of state was formed of the late
king’s principal servants, the chieftains and thalookdars of Oude, and
the self-elected leaders of the rebel sepoys; while the army was
officered in the orthodox manner by generals, brigadiers, colonels,
majors, captains, subalterns, &c. There was a strange sort of democracy
underlying the despotism; for the sepoys elected their officers, and the
officers their commander; and as those who built up felt that they had
the right to pull down, the tenure of office was very precarious. The
mongrel government at Lucknow was thus formed of three elements—regal,
aristocratic, and military, each trusting the other two only so far as
self-interest seemed to warrant. The worst news received was that a
small body of Europeans, including Sir Mountstuart Jackson and his
sister, fugitives from Seetapoor, were in the hands of the rebels, in
one of the palaces in Lucknow, and that a terrible fate impended over
them.
[Illustration:
The Residency and its Defences, Lucknow.
]
November began with very low resources, but with raised hopes; for it
was known that the commander-in-chief was busily making arrangements for
a final relief of the garrison. Brigadier—or, as his well-earned
initials of K.C.B. now entitled him to be called, Sir John—Inglis
remained in command of the old or Residency intrenchment; Sir Henry
Havelock took charge of the new or palatial position; while Sir James
Outram commanded the whole. Labour being abundant, great improvements
were made in all parts; sanitary plans were carried out, and hospitals
made more comfortable; overcrowded buildings were eased by the occupancy
of other places; cool weather brought increase of health; and
improvements were visible in every particular except two—food and
raiment. On the 9th of the month, Mr Cavanagh, who in more peaceful
times had been an ‘uncovenanted servant’ of the Company, or clerk to a
civil officer in Lucknow, made a journey on foot to a point far beyond
the Alum Bagh under most adventurous circumstances,[117] to communicate
in person full details of what was passing within the Residency, to
concert plans in anticipation of the arrival of Sir Colin, and perhaps
to act as a guide through the labyrinthine streets of the city. As an
immediate consequence of this expedition, a system of semaphore
telegraphy was established from the one post to the other, by which it
was speedily known that Mr Cavanagh had succeeded in his bold attempt,
and that Sir Colin arrived at the Alum Bagh on the 11th. Arrangements
were now at once made to aid the advance of the commander-in-chief as
effectively as possible. Day after day Havelock sent out strong parties
to clear some of the streets and buildings in the southeastern half of
the city—blowing up batteries and houses, and dislodging the enemy, in
order to lessen the amount of resistance which Sir Colin would
inevitably encounter.[118]
All this time, while the British in Lucknow were stoutly maintaining
their ground against the enemy, some of their companions-in-arms—near at
hand, but as inaccessible as if fifty miles distant—had their own
troubles to bear. The position of the small detachment at the Alum Bagh
was as trying as it was unexpected. When Havelock left a few hundred
soldiers at that post, with four guns, vehicles, animals, baggage,
ammunition stores, camp-followers, sick, and wounded, he never for an
instant supposed that he would be cut off from them, and that the
Residency and the Alum Bagh would be the objects of two separate and
distinct sieges. Such, however, was the case. Not a soldier could go
from the one place to the other; and it was with the utmost difficulty
that a messenger could convey a small note rolled up in a quill. The
place, however, was tolerably well armed and fortified; and as the enemy
did not swarm in any great numbers between it and Cawnpore,
reinforcements were gradually able to reach the Alum Bagh, although they
could not push on through the remaining four miles to the Residency. On
the 3d of October, a convoy of 300 men of the 64th regiment, with
provisions, under Major Bingham, started from Cawnpore, and safely
reached the Alum Bagh; he could not penetrate further, but the supplies
thus obtained at the Alum Bagh itself were very valuable. On the 14th, a
second convoy, under Major M’Intyre of the 78th Highlanders, was
despatched; but he was attacked by the enemy in such force, that he
could not reach the Alum Bagh; he returned, and had some difficulty in
preventing the supplies from falling into the hands of the enemy.
Another attempt afterwards succeeded. Colonel Wilson, commanding at
Cawnpore, received the small detachments of British troops sent up from
time to time from the lower provinces, as well as the supplies coming in
from every quarter. His duty was, not to make conquests, but to send men
and provisions to the Alum Bagh or the Residency as often as any
opportunity occurred for so doing, he knew that the Alum Bagh batteries
commanded all the approaches, and that the ground was cleared and
exposed for five hundred yards on all sides; he did not therefore
apprehend any serious calamity to the miscellaneous force shut up in
that place, provided he could send provisions in good time. The three or
four miles from the Alum Bagh to the Residency were, it is true, beset
by difficulties of a most formidable character; bridges were broken, and
lines of intrenchment formed, while mutineers and rebels occupied the
district in great force; but they directed their attention rather to the
Residency than to the Alum Bagh, thereby leaving the latter
comparatively unmolested. Much sickness arose within the place, owing to
the deficiency of space and of fresh air; and in the intervals between
the arrivals of the convoys, provisions were scanty, and the distress
was considerable. Nevertheless, the occupants of the Alum Bagh, with
such men as Havelock and Inglis near them, never for an instant thought
of succumbing; they would fight and endure till aid arrived.
Having thus watched the proceedings of the beleaguered garrisons at the
Residency and the Alum Bagh, we may now trace the footsteps of Sir Colin
Campbell, in his operations for their relief.
The commander-in-chief, as has already been stated, remained at Calcutta
many weeks after his arrival in India. He was called upon to remodel the
whole military machinery, and to arrange with the governor-general the
system of strategy which would be most desirable under the actual state
of affairs. He watched with intense interest the progress of events on
the banks of the Jumna and the Ganges. He gave due praise to Wilson for
the conquest of Delhi, and to Greathed for the conquering march through
the Doab. He admired, as a soldier might well admire, the struggles of
Havelock’s gallant little army ere Outram had joined him; the combined
operations of Havelock and Outram; and the wonderful defence made by
Inglis against a host of opponents. He sent up from Calcutta, as soon as
they arrived, reinforcements for the lamentably small British army; and
he sent orders for brigading and marshalling, at Allahabad and at
Cawnpore, such troops as could arrive from Calcutta on the one hand, and
from Delhi on the other. At last, he himself departed from Calcutta on
the 28th of October, travelling like a courier, narrowly escaping
capture by rebels on the way, and arriving at Cawnpore on the 3d of
November—utterly heedless of the glitter and trappings that usually
surround a commander-in-chief in India.
By what steps the various regiments reached Cawnpore, need not be traced
in detail. As fast as they arrived, so did some degree of tranquillity
succeed to anarchy. A portion of railway had for some weeks been
finished from Allahabad to Lohunda, forty-two miles towards Futtehpoor,
but had been stopped in its working by the mutiny; arrangements were now
made, however, for bringing it into use, and for finishing the section
between Lohunda and Futtehpoor. The English regiments, from China and
elsewhere, went up from Calcutta by road or river, in the modes so often
described; and were engaged in occasional skirmishes on the way, at
times and places which have in like manner been mentioned. Benares was
the converging point for the road and river routes; from thence the
troops went up by Mirzapore to Allahabad; thence to Lohunda by rail;
and, lastly, to Futtehpoor and Cawnpore by road-march or
bullock-vehicles. A column under Colonel Berkeley was on its way;
another under Colonel Hinde was in or near Rewah; another under Colonel
Longden was near Jounpoor; while Colonel Wroughton, with the Goorkhas
furnished by Jung Bahadoor, was on the Goruckpore frontier of Oude.
True, some of these so-called columns were scarcely equal to one
regiment in strength; but each formed a nucleus around which other
troops might accumulate. Greathed’s column, now better known as Hope
Grant’s, was the main element in Sir Colin’s present force. It crossed
the Ganges from Cawnpore into Oude on the 30th of October, about 3500
strong, with 18 guns, and advanced without opposition towards the Alum
Bagh, near which it encamped, and awaited the arrival of the
commander-in-chief.
A little may usefully be said here concerning the proceedings of the
naval brigade, already noticed as having been placed under the command
of Captain Peel, and as having arrived safely at Allahabad after a very
wearisome voyage up the Ganges. On the 4th of October Sir Colin
Campbell, then at Calcutta, telegraphed to Peel: ‘In the course of about
a week there will be a continuous stream of troops, at the rate of about
ninety a day, passing into Allahabad, which I trust will not cease for
the next three months.’ Captain Peel was employed during October in
facilitating the passage of troops and artillery up to Cawnpore. On the
20th Lieutenant Vaughan joined him, bringing 126 more naval officers and
seamen, which raised the strength of the naval brigade to 516. Most of
these new arrivals were sailors of the merchant service at Calcutta, who
had agreed with much alacrity to join the brigade. On the 23d he sent
off 100 seamen to Cawnpore, in charge of four siege train 24-pounders.
On the 27th he despatched 170 more, in charge of four 24-pounders and
two 8-inch howitzers; and on the same day a military escort was provided
for a large amount of ammunition. Next, Captain Peel himself started for
Cawnpore; and was soon afterwards joined on the road by Colonel Powell
with the head-quarters of H.M. 53d regiment. Rather unexpectedly, a
battle took place on the way. While at Thurea, on the 31st, news reached
them that the Dinapoor mutineers, with three guns, had crossed the
Jumna, and were about either to attack Futtehpoor, or to march towards
Oude. Powell and Peel had with them troops and sailors numbering
altogether about 700, in charge of a large and valuable convoy of siege
and other stores: They marched that same evening to the camping-ground
of Futtehpoor, where they were joined by some of the 93d Highlanders;
and on the morning of the 1st of November a column of about 500 men
marched twenty-four miles to Kudjna. The enemy were here found, with
their guns commanding the road, their right occupying a high embankment,
screened by a grove, and their left on the other side of the road. A
part of the column advanced against the guns, while the rest rendered
support on either side. A sharp battle of two hours’ duration ensued,
during which the enemy kept up so severe a fire of musketry that many of
the English fell, including Colonel Powell, who received a musket-ball
in the forehead. Captain Peel, although a sailor, then took the command;
he carried a force round the upper end of the embankment, divided the
enemy, and drove them from all their positions, capturing their camp and
two of their tumbrils. His men were so worn out by 72 miles of marching
in three days, that he could not organise a pursuit. Collecting his dead
and wounded, which amounted in number to no less than 95, he marched
back to Binkee; and after a little rest, the column, minus those who
fell in this battle, continued the march towards Cawnpore. It was
supposed the enemy numbered not fewer than 4000 men, of whom one half
were mutinous sepoys from the Bengal army, and the other half rebels
whom they had picked up on the way. After leaving some of his men at
Cawnpore, to serve as artillerymen, Peel advanced with his heavy guns,
and about 250 sailors, towards the Alum Bagh.
Understanding, then, that regiments and detachments of various kinds
were working their way, at the close of October and early in November,
towards Cawnpore, and across the Ganges into Oude, we may resume our
notice of Sir Colin Campbell’s movements.
Remaining at Cawnpore no longer than was necessary to organise his
various military arrangements, the commander-in-chief crossed the Ganges
on the 9th of November, and joined Hope Grant’s column on the same day
at camp Buntara, six miles short of the Alum Bagh. Wishing to have the
aid of other detachments which were then on the road, he remained at
Buntara till the morning of the 12th, when he started with the force
which he had collected with so much trouble.[119] Advancing towards the
Alum Bagh, he defeated a party of the enemy in a skirmish at a small
fort called Jellalabad, a little way to the right of the main road, and
five or six miles from the city. This fort being taken and blown up, Sir
Colin pushed on and encamped for the night outside the Alum Bagh.
Knowing that Havelock and Outram two months before had suffered severely
in cutting their way through the city, Campbell now formed a plan of
approach at the extreme eastern or rather southeastern suburb, and of
battering down the enemy’s defences step by step, and day after day, so
as to form a passage for his infantry with comparatively small loss.
This he had reason to hope; because there was a large open space at that
end of the city, which—although containing many mosques, palaces, and
other buildings—had few of those deep narrow lanes which had proved so
dangerous to the former force. Hence the tactics of the next few days
were to consist of a series of partial sieges, each directed against a
particular stronghold, and each capture to form a base of operations for
attacks on other posts nearer the heart of the city, until at length the
Residency could be reached. The palaces, buildings, and gardens that
would be encountered in this route were the Dil Koosha palace and park,
the Martinière college, the Secunder Bagh, the Shah Nujeef, the palace
Mess-house, the Observatory, the Motee Mehal, the Keisah or Kaiser Bagh,
and various palatial buildings, of which the names are not clearly
rendered; until at length those posts would be reached (the Chuttur
Munzil, the Pyne Bagh, the Fureed Buksh palace, the Clock Tower, and the
Taree Kothee) which were held by Havelock, and lastly those (the
Residency and the other buildings within Inglis’s original intrenchment)
which were held by Outram.
After changing the garrison at the Alum Bagh, giving a little rest to
troops who had recently had much heavy marching, and receiving an
addition of about 650 men[120] from Cawnpore, Sir Colin commenced his
arduous operations on the morning of the 14th, with a miscellaneous
force of about 4000 men. As he approached the Dil Koosha park, the
leading troops encountered a long line of musketry-fire; he quickly sent
up reinforcements; and after a running-fight of about two hours, he
drove the enemy down the hill to the Martinière college, across the
garden and park of the Martinière, and far beyond the canal. This was
effected without any great loss on either side. Campbell had now secured
the Dil Koosha (’Heart’s Delight’) and the Martinière (Martine’s college
for half-caste children). Hope Grant’s brigade, flanked by Bourchier’s
field-battery and Peel’s heavy guns, was brought to the side of the
canal (which enters the river Goomtee close to the Martinière), where
they effectually kept the enemy in check. When night came, Sir Colin
found he had made a good beginning; he had not only secured the
easternmost buildings of Lucknow, but he had brought with him fourteen
days’ provisions for his own troops, and an equal proportion for those
under Outram and Havelock; he had also brought all his heavy baggage
(except tents, left at the Alum Bagh), and was therefore prepared to
make a stand for several days at the Dil Koosha if necessary.
After further completing his arrangements on the 15th, and exchanging
messages or signals with Havelock and Outram, the commander-in-chief
resumed his operations on the 16th. Leaving every description of baggage
at the Dil Koosha, and supplying every soldier’s haversack with three
days’ food, he crossed the canal and advanced to the Secunder Bagh—a
high-walled enclosure of strong masonry, about a hundred and twenty
yards square, loopholed on all sides for musketry, and held in great
force by the enemy. Opposite to it was a village at a distance of about
a hundred yards, also loopholed and guarded by musketeers. After a
determined struggle of two hours, during which artillery and infantry
were brought to bear against them in considerable force, the enemy were
driven out of the Secunder Bagh, the village, and a range of barracks
hard by—all of which speedily became valuable strongholds to the
conquerors. Sir Colin described this as a very desperate encounter, no
less than 2000 of the enemy having fallen, chiefly after the storming of
the Secunder Bagh itself by parties of the 53d and 93d regiments, aided
by the 4th Punjaub infantry and a few miscellaneous troops. Indeed the
enemy, well armed, crowded the Secunder Bagh in such numbers, that he
said ‘there never was a bolder feat of arms’ than the storming. Captain
Peel’s naval siege-train then went to the front, and advanced towards
the Shah Nujeef—a domed mosque with a garden, which had been converted
into a strong post by the enemy; the wall of the enclosure had been
loopholed with great care; the entrance had been covered by a regular
work in masonry; and the top of the building had been crowned with a
parapet. Peel was aided by a field-battery and some mortars; while the
village to the left had been cleared of the enemy by Brigadier Hope and
Colonel Gordon. A heavy cannonade was maintained against the Shah Nujeef
for no less a space than three hours. The enemy defended the post very
obstinately, keeping up an unceasing fire of musketry from the mosque
and the defences in the garden. At last Sir Colin ordered the place to
be stormed, which was effected in an intrepid manner by the 93d
Highlanders, a battalion of detachments, and the naval brigade. In his
dispatch, the commander-in-chief said: ‘Captain Peel led up his heavy
guns with extraordinary gallantry to within a few yards of the building,
to batter the massive stone-walls. The withering fire of the Highlanders
effectually covered the naval brigade from great loss; but it was an
action almost unexampled in war. Captain Peel behaved very much as if he
had been laying the _Shannon_ alongside an enemy’s frigate.’
While Sir Colin and his troops were thus engaged, Havelock contributed
towards the success of the general plan by the capture of a range of
buildings in advance of the palace of Fureed Buksh. It had been agreed
by signal and secret message, that as soon as Sir Colin should reach the
Secunder Bagh, the outer wall of the advance garden of the Fureed Buksh
(Havelock’s most eastern post), in which the enemy had before made
several breaches, should be blown in by mines previously prepared; that
two powerful batteries erected in the enclosure should then open on the
insurgents in front; and that after the desired effect had been
produced, the troops should storm two buildings known as the Hern Khana
or Deer-house and the Engine-house. This was successfully accomplished.
At about eleven o’clock, the operations began. The mines were exploded;
the wall was demolished; the works beyond were shelled by mortars; two
of the mines at the Hern Khana were charged with destructive effect; and
the infantry—eager for a little active work after being many weeks pent
up within their intrenchment—dashed through the Chuttur Munzil and
carried all before them, capturing the several buildings which had been
marked out by previous arrangement.
Thus ended the important operations of the 16th, sanguinary in Sir
Colin’s force, but much less so in that of Havelock—operations during
which the Secunder Bagh, the Shah Nujeef, the Hern Khana, the
Engine-house, and many minor buildings, were captured. On the 17th, the
commander-in-chief, after overcoming many obstacles, opened a
communication between the canal and the left rear of a range of
barracks, that facilitated his subsequent proceedings. Captain Peel
meanwhile began to operate with his now famous naval brigade against a
building called in the maps the Mess-house—a large structure, defended
by a ditch twelve feet broad, and scarped with masonry, and by a
loopholed mud-wall beyond the ditch. As a part of Sir Colin’s general
plan—that of employing artillery as much as possible, to save his
infantry—a cannonading was continued for several hours against this
Mess-house; and then it was stormed and taken without much difficulty by
various detachments of the 53d, the 90th, the Punjaubees, and other
regiments. This done, the troops pressed forward with great vigour, and
lined a wall that separated the Mess-house from the Motee Mehal (’Pearl
Palace’). This last-named place consisted of a wide enclosure containing
many buildings. Here the enemy determined to make one last desperate
stand; they fought with energy and determination for an hour, but then
gave way. Sir Colin’s troops broke an opening through the wall, aided by
the sappers, and then they poured through, rushing onward until they
reached the part of the city which for seven or eight weeks had been in
the hands of Havelock. On the evening of this day the British found
themselves in possession of nearly the whole river-side of Lucknow from
the iron bridge to the Dil Koosha.
It may not be amiss here to mention that these operations during the
second decade of November were conducted by the following officers: Sir
Colin Campbell commanded the whole. General Mansfield officiated as
chief of the staff. Brigadier Hope Grant was in immediate command of the
column, formerly known as Greathed’s, which constituted the chief part
of Sir Colin’s force. Colonel Greathed, now raised to brigadier-general
as a mark of Sir Colin’s estimate of his services, commanded one of the
brigades of infantry. Brigadiers Russell and Adrian Hope took two other
infantry brigades. Brigadier Little commanded the cavalry, Brigadier
Crauford the artillery, Lieutenant Lennox the engineers, and Captain
Peel the naval brigade. The operations brought the honorary distinction
of K.C.B. to Grant and Peel, who became Sir James Hope Grant and Sir
William Peel. Sir Colin’s advance to the Residency, however, with the
collateral struggles to which it gave rise, was severe in its results to
his force, though less so than the operations of Outram and Havelock in
September. He had to mourn the loss of 122 killed and 345 wounded. Out
of this number there were 10 officers killed and 33 wounded. Sir Colin
himself received a slight wound, but not such as to check his activity
for an hour.[121] The loss of the enemy was frightfully severe; the
exact amount was not known to the British, but it must have reached
three or four thousand. They fought at the Secunder Bagh and the Shah
Nujeef with a fierceness which rendered immense slaughter inevitable;
for Peel’s powerful artillery swept them down fearfully.
Whether the transports of joy that animated the British in Lucknow on
the 17th of November were equal in intensity to those which had broken
forth fifty-three days before, can never be exactly measured; men’s
emotions are not susceptible of such nice estimate. Suffice it to say,
that as Inglis, on the 25th of September, had warmly grasped the hands
of his deliverers Havelock and Outram; so did Outram, Havelock, and
Inglis now welcome with all fervour Sir Colin Campbell and those who
with him had just fought their way through the hostile streets of
Lucknow. Then, when a few hours had enabled the new-comers to spread
forth some of the supplies which their commissariat had provided, and
the old inmates had done what little they could to render quiet eating
and drinking possible—then were experienced once again the luxuries of
wheaten bread, fresh butter, oranges, and other articles which are never
luxuries save to those who have been long unable to obtain them. And
then the feast of letters and newspapers from England was scarcely less
delightful; for so close had been the investment of the Residency, that
the inmates had been practically shut out from the world during the
greater part of the summer and autumn.
The jubilation was, however, soon ended. Almost immediately on Sir
Colin’s arrival, an announcement was made that every European was to
leave Lucknow and retire to Cawnpore. Many in the garrison had fondly
hoped that the success of the commander-in-chief would have restored
British control over the city; that comfort was about to succeed
discomfort; that officers and civilians would resume their former duties
under their former easy conditions; and that the ladies and children
might rest a while in quiet, to recover health and strength before
retiring to Calcutta or to the Hills. But such was not to be. Campbell
had come to Lucknow almost solely to liberate them; and his plan of
strategy—or, more probably, the number of available troops at his
command—did not permit him to leave his small force in the Oudian
capital; for there was hot work to look forward to. The enemy,
notwithstanding their losses, still numbered fifty thousand fighting-men
in and near Lucknow, shewing no symptoms of retreat, but rather a
determination to defend the rest of the city street by street. To attack
them further would have been to sacrifice a force already much reduced,
and to risk the necessity for a third relief. Sir Colin issued an order,
therefore, not only that all were to depart, but to depart quickly. The
sick and wounded were to be removed directly from the Residency to the
Dil Koosha—a distance of four miles in a straight line, but five or six
if it were necessary to take a circuitous route to avoid the enemy; the
women and children were to follow the same route on the next day; and
the bulk of the soldiers were to depart when all else had been provided
for. An encampment was prepared in the Dil Koosha park, with such
necessaries and comforts as could be hastily brought together for sick,
wounded, women, and children. The sojourn at the Dil Koosha was to be a
brief one, sufficient only for the organisation of a convoy to Cawnpore.
Only a small amount of personal baggage was allowed for each person; and
thus those who possessed property were forced to leave most of it
behind. The property, it is true, was very scanty; but the garrison felt
vexed at leaving even a trifle as a booty to the rebels. As the ordnance
stores and the Company’s treasure (twenty-three lacs of rupees, safely
preserved through all the trying scenes of half a year) were to be
removed to the Dil Koosha about the same time as the non-combatants, and
as all this was to be effected without exciting the suspicions of the
rebels, the utmost vigilance and caution were needed.
The exodus from the Residency, and the escape to the Dil Koosha, through
nearly the whole length of the city of Lucknow, will never be forgotten
by those who took part therein. Many delicate ladies, unprovided with
vehicles or horses, had to walk over five or six miles of very rough
ground, exposed at one place to the fire of the enemy’s musketry. The
authoress of the _Lady’s Diary_, with two other ladies, secured a
carriage to convey them. ‘We had a pair of starved horses of Mr
Gubbins’s to drag us; but the wretched animals had been on siege-fare so
long that they had forgotten the use of their legs, and had no strength,
so came to a stand-still every five minutes, invariably choosing the
most dangerous parts of the road for their halt. At one place we were
under so hot a fire that we got out and ran for our lives—leaving the
vehicle to its fate; and two poor natives, who were helping to push it
on behind, were shot. At the Fureed Buksh we had to wait a long time, as
the carriage could not be got through a gateway till some stores were
cleared away. Some of the officers of the 90th invited us inside, and
gave us wine and water, which was very refreshing. We walked after that
every step of the way to Secunderabad [Secunder Bagh], where we all had
to wait several hours till doolies arrived to take on all the women; and
we proceeded under a strong escort to Dil Koosha. The road to
Secunderabad was frightfully dangerous in places. In one spot we were
passing a 24-pounder manned by some sailors of the naval brigade; they
all called out to us to bend low and run as fast as we could; we had
hardly done so when a volley of grape whizzed over our heads and struck
a wall beyond. At Secunderabad we found the place overflowing with women
and children of the Lucknow garrison.... At about nine o’clock P.M. we
started again in doolies. The crowd and confusion were excessive, the
enemy hovering round and firing occasional shots, and we were borne
along in the most solemn silence; the only sounds were the tramp, tramp,
tramp of the doolie-bearers and the screaming of the jackals. It was an
awful time; one felt as if one’s life hung in a balance, with the fate
we had so long dreaded; but our merciful Father, who has protected us
through so many and great dangers, brought us in safety to Dil Koosha,
where we arrived about two o’clock in the morning.’ They found shelter
in the hastily prepared Dil Koosha encampment, already mentioned; and
then, for the first time during five months, they snatched a little
sleep beyond the Residency intrenchment. Mrs (now Lady) Inglis behaved
on this occasion in a manner worthy of her name; a doolie or
hospital-litter was prepared for her accommodation; but she refused it,
in order that the sick and wounded might be better attended to. Mr Rees
gives an extract from a letter of this lady, in which the incidents of
the day are narrated nearly in the same terms as by the chaplain’s wife;
but the following few additional facts may be given: ‘The road was quite
safe except in three places, where it was overlooked by the enemy’s
position, and where we had to run. One poor woman was wounded at one of
these places. We arrived at Secunder Bagh about six, and found every one
assembled there, awaiting an escort and doolies to carry us on. When I
tell you that upwards of two thousand men had been hastily buried there
the day before, you can fancy what a place it was.... We were regaled
with tea and plenty of milk, and bread and butter—luxuries we had not
enjoyed since the commencement of our troubles. At ten o’clock we
recommenced our journey; most of the ladies were in palanquins, but we
had a covered-cart drawn by two obstinate bullocks. We had a force of
infantry and cavalry with us, but had not proceeded half a mile when the
column was halted, and an order sent back for reinforcements; some noise
was heard, and it was believed we might be attacked. However, it proved
a false alarm; and after two disagreeable and rather anxious hours, we
arrived safely at the Dil Koosha, and were quartered in tents pitched
for our reception.’ The charnel-house at the Secunder Bagh, mentioned in
this extract, was the place where most of the slaughter of the enemy had
occurred, and where the dead bodies had been hastily interred; the
atmosphere around it was for many days in a frightful state.
The military movement in this evacuation of the Residency was spoken of
by Sir Colin, in his official dispatch, as something masterly. He told
how Outram so planned that each corps and regiment, each detachment and
picket, should be able to march out silently in the dead of the night,
without exciting suspicion among the myriads of enemies near; and yet
that there should be guns and riflemen so posted as to repel the enemy
if they should attempt any serious molestation of the retiring troops.
It must be remembered that Outran and Havelock’s gallant and
much-enduring men had many things to effect after the non-combatants had
departed from the Residency. They were called upon to bring away as many
of the stores as could conveniently be conveyed, and to destroy those
which, if left behind, would too much strengthen the enemy; they had to
escort and protect their weaker companions, and to maintain a
bombardment of the Kaiser Bagh and other posts, to deceive the enemy.
The last of the men came out as quietly and cautiously as possible, in
the dead of the night between the 22d and 23d of November, leaving
lights burning, that the departure might not be suspected. They silently
passed through the streets and roads, and safely reached the Dil Koosha.
Captain Waterman, through some misconception, was left behind, and found
himself, at two o’clock in the morning, the only living man in the
intrenched position which had lately been so crowded. The situation was
a terrible one, surrounded as he was by fifty thousand vindictive armed
enemies. In an agony of mind, he ran past the Taree Kothee, the Fureed
Buksh, the Chuttur Munzil, the Motee Mehal, the Secunder Bagh, and the
Martinière, to the Dil Koosha, which he reached in a state of mental and
bodily prostration. Sir Colin was among the last to leave the place. So
cleverly was the evacuation managed (without the loss of one man), that
the enemy continued to fire into the Residency enclosure long after the
British had quitted it. What the scene was among the women and children,
we have just been informed; what it was among the soldiers, is well
described in a letter from one of the officers: ‘An anxious night indeed
that was! We left at twelve o’clock, having withdrawn all our guns from
position, so that if the scoundrels had only come on, we should have had
to fight every inch of our way while retiring; but the hand of
Providence, which had watched the little garrison for so long a time,
never left it to the last. The eye of the wicked was blinded while we
marched breathlessly with beating hearts from our post, and, forming
into line, walked through the narrow defiles and trenches leading from
the ever-memorable Bailey guard. Out we went, while the enemy’s guns
still pounded the old wall, and while the bullets still whistled over
the buildings; and, after a six miles’ walk in ankle-deep sand, we were
halted in a field and told to make ourselves comfortable for the night.
Here we were in a pretty plight. Nothing to cover ourselves, while the
cold was intense; so we lay down like so many sheep huddled together to
keep ourselves warm, and so lay till the morning, when we rose stiff and
cold, with a pretty prospect of the chance of finding our servants in a
camp of 9000 men.’
The world-renowned ‘Residency’ at Lucknow being thus abandoned, it may
be well to give in a note[122] Sir James Outram’s comments on the eight
weeks’ defence of that place, as a sequel to Brigadier Inglis’s account
(p. 336) of the previous three months’ defence before Outram arrived. To
Outram was due the planning and execution of the strategical movement by
which the evacuation of the Residency was accomplished. The
commander-in-chief, in a general order issued on the 23d, thus spoke of
it: ‘The movement of retreat last night, by which the final rescue of
the garrison was effected, was a model of discipline and exactness. The
consequence was, that the enemy was completely deceived, and the force
retired by a narrow, tortuous lane—the only line of retreat open—in the
face of fifty thousand enemies, without molestation.’[123]
Great and universal was the grief throughout the camp when the rumour
rapidly spread that Havelock, the gallant Christian soldier, was dead.
He shared the duties of Outram at the Dil Koosha on the 23d and 24th,
but died the next day, stricken down by dysentery, brought on by
over-fatigue. All men talked of him as a religious as well as a brave
man—as one, more than most men of his time, who resembled some of the
Puritans of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. A few words may
give the outline of his career. Henry Havelock was born near
Sunderland in 1795. He was educated at the Charterhouse, and then
studied for the bar for a short time; but afterwards adopted the
military profession, following the example of his elder brother
William. He entered the 95th regiment just after the battle of
Waterloo, and during forty-two years saw a good deal of active
service. After serving eight years in the United Kingdom, he exchanged
into the 13th regiment, and went to India in 1823. He joined in the
first Burmese war, of which he afterwards wrote and published a
narrative. He served in various capacities twenty-three years before
he became a captain, having no patronage in high places to facilitate
his advancement. Then he served in the Afghan campaign, of which he
wrote a memoir; and took a leading part in the memorable defence of
Jelalabad. Rising gradually in office and in influence, he served in
later periods at Gwalior, Moodkee, Ferozshah, Sobraon, the Sutlej, and
other scenes of battle. When the Persian war broke out at the close of
1856, he was put in command of one division of the Anglo-Indian army;
and when that war ended, he returned to India. What he achieved during
1857 the foregoing pages have shewn. All classes in England mourned
his death. The Duke of Cambridge as commander-in-chief, Lords
Palmerston and Panmure as ministers of the crown, the Earl of Derby as
chief representative of the party at that time in opposition, the
Court of Directors, the Court of Proprietors, the corporation of
London, public functionaries and municipal bodies, religious and
missionary societies—all sought to pay respect to the noble soldier
who was at once pious, daring, and skilful. His widow, made Lady
Havelock in virtue of his knighthood, received a pension of £1000 a
year. His son received a baronetcy from the Queen, the rank of major
from the commander-in-chief, and a pension of £1000 a year from the
House of Commons. The public afterwards took up the subject of a
monument to the hero, and a provision for his daughters, as matters
not unworthy of support by voluntary efforts independent of the
government. With or without a monument, the name of Henry Havelock
will be held in grateful remembrance by the nation.
Sir Colin Campbell, like all around him, mourned the loss of his gallant
coadjutor; but his thoughts had no time to dwell on that topic. He had
to think of the living, to plan the march from the Dil Koosha to the
Alum Bagh, and thence onward to Cawnpore. Certain state-prisoners had to
be guarded, as well as the women and children, the sick and the wounded,
the treasure and the stores. The whole army was thrown into two
divisions: one under Brigadier Hope Grant, to form an escort from the
Dil Koosha to the Alum Bagh; the other, under Outram, to keep the enemy
at bay until the convoy was safely on its road. It was on the 24th that
this novel and picturesque procession set out. The distance to the Alum
Bagh was about four miles; and over the whole length of very rough road
was a stream of bullock-carriages, palanquins, carts, camels, elephants,
guns, ammunition and store wagons, soldiers, sailors (of the naval
brigade), sick, wounded, women, children, and prisoners. The delays were
great, the stoppages many, the fatigue distressing, the dust annoying;
and all gladly rested their weary limbs at the Alum Bagh when night
came.
It had been fully intended to afford the troops and their convoy several
days’ repose at the Alum Bagh; but on the 27th, Sir Colin was surprised
to hear very heavy firing in the direction of Cawnpore. No news had
reached him from that place for several days; therefore fearing some
disaster, he felt it necessary to push forward as quickly as possible.
Leaving Outram in command of part of the force at the Alum Bagh, and
placing the rest under the immediate command of Hope Grant, he resumed
his march at nine o’clock on the morning of the 28th. Messages now
reached him, telling of a reverse which General Windham had suffered at
Cawnpore, at the hands of the Gwalior mutineers. Sir Colin hastened
forward, convoy and all; but he and a few officers took the start, and
galloped on to Cawnpore that same night. The nature of Windham’s
disaster will come for notice in the next chapter; here we have only to
speak of its immediate effect upon Sir Colin’s plans. The enormous train
of helpless women, children, sick, and wounded, could cross the Ganges
and quit Oude only by a bridge of boats; if that were broken, the result
might be tragical indeed. Orders were sent for the heavy guns to hurry
on, and to take up such a position as would prevent the enemy from
destroying or attacking the bridge; while a mixed force of infantry,
cavalry, and horse-artillery was to cross quickly, and command the
Cawnpore end of the bridge. Happily all this was effected just in time.
When the passage was rendered safe, the artillery, the remaining troops,
and the non-combatants, were ordered to file over the bridge; this they
did, occupying the bridge in a continuous stream for _thirty
hours_—unmolested, owing to Sir Colin’s prompt plans, by the enemy’s
guns. All having safely crossed, the troops encamped around the ruinous
old intrenchment rendered memorable by the gallant spirit and hapless
fate of Sir Hugh Wheeler; while the women, children, sick, and wounded,
were put temporarily into occupation of the old foot-artillery lines.
[Illustration:
Fort of Alum Bagh, near Lucknow.
]
Although Sir Colin Campbell abandoned Lucknow for a while, he did not
abandon the Alum Bagh. This post, a compact enclosure, capable of being
defended on all sides, would afford an important base for future
operations if maintained. Taking Hope Grant’s division back with him to
Cawnpore, he left Outram with three to four thousand men to hold the
Alum Bagh against all odds, furnishing him with as large a supply as
possible of provisions and stores. This force consisted of all the
remaining or available companies of H.M. 5th, 78th, 84th, and 90th foot,
the Madras Europeans, the Ferozpore Sikhs, three field-batteries, some
heavy guns, two squadrons of the military train acting as dragoons, and
a body of irregular cavalry. While the enemy were busily engaged in
refortifying the city, so as to make it more formidable than ever, Sir
James was making the Alum Bagh proof against all their attacks. The
position thus occupied included not only the Alum Bagh itself, but a
standing camp about three-quarters of a mile distant, and the bridge of
Bunnee, which was separately held by 400 Madras sepoys and two guns.
Serious work and anxious thoughts occupied the mind of the
commander-in-chief. He could do little in active military operations
while so many helpless beings were depending on him for protection.
Hence the sojourn of those who, from sex, age, or sickness, could render
no active service at Cawnpore, was rendered as brief as possible.
Vehicles, animals, provisions, and stores, were quickly collected; and
on the 3d of December the march was resumed towards Allahabad—under an
escort of H.M. 34th foot, two guns, and some cavalry. How the released
Europeans fared on their journey; how they were cheered and greeted at
Allahabad; how they felicitated themselves on once again sleeping in
safety; and how they ultimately reached Calcutta by steamers on the
Ganges—need not be told in detail. Let it suffice to say that when the
ladies and children, with the invalided officers, who had passed through
so wonderful a series of events, were approaching Calcutta, Lord Canning
issued a notification, in which he said: ‘No one will wish to obtrude
upon those who are under bereavement or sickness any show of ceremony
which shall impose fatigue or pain. The best welcome which can be
tendered upon such an occasion is one which shall break in as little as
possible upon privacy and rest. But the rescue of these sufferers is a
victory beyond all price; and in testimony of the public joy with which
it is hailed, and of the admiration with which their heroic endurance
and courage are viewed,’ it was ordered that a royal salute should be
fired from the ramparts of Fort William as soon as the steamer arrived;
that all ships-of-war in the river should be dressed in honour of the
day; that officers would be appointed to conduct the passengers on
shore; and that the state-barges of the governor-general should be in
attendance.
Thus ended a great achievement. The women, children, sick, and wounded,
who had to be brought away from the very heart of a city swarming with
deadly enemies, and escorted through a country beset by mutinous sepoys
and rebellious chieftains, were not fewer than _two thousand_ in number.
Let it be remembered, that while this helpless train of persons was on
the way through Oude, behind them was the enormous hostile force of
Lucknow, while in front of them were the Gwalior mutineers flushed by a
recent victory. That all should have passed through this perilous ordeal
with scarcely the loss of one life, reflects lasting credit on the
generals who planned and executed the manœuvre. Of the five noble
officers whose names are imperishably connected with the extraordinary
sieges and defences of Lucknow—Inglis, Havelock, Neill, Outram, and
Campbell—two fell before the grateful thanks of their countrymen at home
could reach them; but the remaining three, when Christmas arrived, had
the infinite satisfaction of knowing that their arduous labours had been
rewarded by the safe arrival, at or near Calcutta, of the tender and
weakened, the broken-down and invalided—those who had so long formed the
European community in the Lucknow Residency.
Note.
_Cavanagh’s Adventure._—At p. 362 it is mentioned that Mr Cavanagh,
an uncovenanted civil servant of the Company in the Residency at
Lucknow, volunteered to make the perilous journey from that post to
the commander-in-chief’s camp many miles beyond the Alum Bagh, in
order to establish more complete correspondence between Sir James
Outram and Sir Colin Campbell than was possible by the simple medium
of a small note enclosed in a quill. Mr Cavanagh’s account of his
hair-breadth run was afterwards published in the Blue-books; and as
it affords a good idea of the state of Lucknow and its environs at
the time, we will reprint it here:
‘While passing through the intrenchment of Lucknow, about ten
o’clock A.M. on the 9th inst., I learned that a spy had come in from
Cawnpore, and that he was going back in the night as far as the Alum
Bagh with dispatches to his excellency, Sir Colin Campbell, the
commander-in-chief, who, it was said, was approaching Lucknow with
5000 or 6000 men.
‘I sought out the spy, whose name is Kanoujee Lall, and who was in
the court of the deputy-commissioner of Duriabad before the outbreak
in Oude. He had taken letters from the intrenchment before, but I
had never seen him till now. I found him intelligent, and imparted
to him my desire to venture in disguise to the Alum Bagh in his
company. He hesitated a great deal at acting as my guide, but made
no attempt to exaggerate the dangers of the road. He merely urged
that there was more chance of detection by our going together, and
proposed that we should take different roads, and meet outside of
the city, to which I objected. I left him to transact some business,
my mind dwelling all the time on the means of accomplishing my
object.
‘I had, some days previously, witnessed the preparation of plans
which were being made by direction of Sir James Outram to assist the
commander-in-chief in his march into Lucknow for the relief of the
besieged, and it then occurred to me that some one with the
requisite local knowledge ought to attempt to reach his excellency’s
camp beyond or at the Alum Bagh. The news of Sir Colin Campbell’s
advance revived the idea, and I made up my mind to go myself at two
o’clock, after finishing the business I was engaged upon. I
mentioned to Colonel R. Napier, chief of Sir James Outram’s staff,
that I was willing to proceed through the enemy to the Alum Bagh, if
the general thought my doing so would be of service to the
commander-in-chief. He was surprised at the offer, and seemed to
regard the enterprise as fraught with too much danger to be assented
to; but he did me the favour of communicating the offer to Sir James
Outram, because he considered that my zeal deserved to be brought to
his notice.
‘Sir James did not encourage me to undertake the journey, declaring
that he thought it so dangerous that he would not himself have asked
any officer to attempt it. I, however, spoke so confidently of
success, and treated the dangers so lightly, that he at last
yielded, and did me the honour of adding, that if I succeeded in
reaching the commander-in-chief, my knowledge would be a great help
to him.
‘I secretly arranged for a disguise, so that my departure might not
be known to my wife, as she was not well enough to bear the prospect
of an eternal separation. When I left home, about seven o’clock in
the evening, she thought I was gone on duty for the night to the
mines; for I was working as an assistant field-engineer, by order of
Sir James Outram.
‘By half-past seven o’clock my disguise was completed, and when I
entered the room of Colonel Napier, no one in it recognised me. I
was dressed as a budmash, or as an irregular soldier of the city,
with sword and shield, native-made shoes, tight trousers, a yellow
silk koortah over a tight-fitting white muslin shirt, a
yellow-coloured chintz sheet thrown round my shoulders, a
cream-coloured turban, and a white waistband or kumurbund. My face,
down to the shoulders, and my hands, to the wrists, were coloured
with lampblack, the cork used being dipped in oil to cause the
colour to adhere a little. I could get nothing better. I had little
confidence in the disguise of my features, and I trusted more to the
darkness of the night; but Sir James Outram and his staff seemed
satisfied. After being provided with a small double-barrelled
pistol, and a pair of broad pyjamahs over the tight drawers, I
proceeded with Kanoujee Lall to the right bank of the river Goomtee,
running north of our intrenchment, accompanied by Captain Hardinge,
of the irregular cavalry.
‘Here we undressed and quietly forded the river, which was only
about four and a half feet deep, and about a hundred yards wide at
this point. My courage failed me while in the water, and if my guide
had been within reach, I should perhaps have pulled him back and
abandoned the enterprise; but he waded quickly through the stream.
Reaching the opposite bank, we went crouching up a ditch for three
hundred yards, to a grove of low trees on the edge of a pond, where
we stopped to dress. While we were here, a man came down to the pond
to wash, and went away again without observing us.
‘My confidence now returned to me, and with my tulwar resting on my
shoulder we advanced into the huts in front, where I accosted a
matchlockman, who answered to my remark that the night was cold: “It
is very cold—in fact, it is a cold night.” I passed him, adding that
it would be colder by and by.
‘After going six or seven hundred yards further, we reached the iron
bridge over the Goomtee, where we were stopped and called over by a
native officer who was seated in an upper-storied house, and seemed
to be in command of a cavalry picket, whose horses were near the
place saddled. My guide advanced to the light, and I stayed a little
back in the shade. After being told that we had come from
Mundeon—our old cantonment, and then in the possession of the
enemy—and that we were going into the city to our homes, he let us
proceed. We continued on along the left bank of the river to the
stone bridge, which is about eight or nine hundred yards from the
iron bridge, passing unnoticed through a number of sepoys and
matchlockmen, some of whom were escorting persons of rank in
palanquins preceded by torches.
‘Recrossing the Goomtee by the stone bridge, we went by a sentry
unobserved, who was closely questioning a dirtily dressed native,
and into the chowk or principal street of the city of Lucknow, which
was not illuminated as much as it used to be previous to the siege,
nor was it so crowded. I jostled against several armed men in the
street without being spoken to, and only met one guard of seven
sepoys, who were amusing themselves with some women of pleasure.
‘When issuing from the city into the country, we were challenged by
a chowkeedar, or watchman, who, without stopping us, merely asked
who we were. The part of the city traversed that night by me seemed
to have been deserted by at least a third of its inhabitants.
‘I was in great spirits when we reached the green fields, into which
I had not been for five months. Everything around us smelt sweet,
and a carrot I took from the roadside was the most delicious I had
ever tasted. I gave vent to my feelings in a conversation with
Kanoujee Lall, who joined in my admiration of the province of Oude,
and lamentation that it was now in the hands of wretches whose
misgovernment and rapacity were ruining it.
‘A further walk of a few miles was accomplished in high spirits. But
there was trouble before us. We had taken the wrong road, and were
now quite out of our way in the Dil Koosha Park, which was occupied
by the enemy. I went within twenty yards of two guns to see what
strength they were, and returned to the guide, who was in great
alarm, and begged I would not distrust him because of the mistake,
as it was caused by his anxiety to take me away from the pickets of
the enemy. I bade him not to be frightened of me, for I was not
annoyed, as such accidents were not unfrequent even when there was
no danger to be avoided. It was now about midnight. We endeavoured
to persuade a cultivator, who was watching his crop, to shew us the
way for a short distance, but he urged old age and lameness; and
another, whom I peremptorily told to come with us, ran off
screaming, and alarmed the whole village. We next walked quickly
away into the canal, running under the Char Bagh, in which I fell
several times, owing to my shoes being wet and slippery and my feet
sore. The shoes were hard and tight, and had rubbed the skin off my
toes, and cut into the flesh above the heels.
‘In two hours more we were again in the right direction, two women
in the village we passed having kindly helped us to find it. About
two o’clock we reached an advanced picket of sepoys, who told us the
way, after asking where we had come from, and whither we were going.
I thought it safer to go up to the picket, than to try to pass them
unobserved.
‘Kanoujee Lall now begged I would not press him to take me into the
Alum Bagh, as he did not know the way in, and the enemy were
strongly posted around the place. I was tired, and in pain from the
shoes, and would therefore have preferred going into the Alum Bagh;
but, as the guide feared attempting it, I desired him to go on to
the camp of the commander-in-chief, which he said was near Bunnee (a
village eighteen miles from Lucknow) upon the Cawnpore road. The
moon had risen by this time, and we could see well ahead.
‘By three o’clock we arrived at a grove of mango-trees, situated on
a plain, in which a man was singing at the top of his voice. I
thought he was a villager, but he got alarmed on hearing us
approach; and astonished us, too, by calling out a guard of
twenty-five sepoys, all of whom asked questions. Kanoujee Lall here
lost heart for the first time, and threw away the letter intrusted
to him for Sir Colin Campbell. I kept mine safe in my turban. We
satisfied the guard that we were poor men travelling to Umroula, a
village two miles this side of the chief’s camp, to inform a friend
of the death of his brother by a shot from the British intrenchment
at Lucknow, and they told us the road. They appeared to be greatly
relieved on discovering that it was not their terrible foe, who was
only a few miles in advance of them. We went in the direction
indicated by them, and after walking for half an hour we got into a
jheel or swamp, which are numerous and large in Oude. We had to wade
through it for two hours up to our waists in water, and through
weeds; for before we found out that we were in a jheel, we had gone
too far to recede. I was nearly exhausted on getting out of the
water, having made great exertions to force our way through the
weeds, and to prevent the colour being washed off my face. It was
nearly gone from my hands.
‘I now rested for fifteen minutes, despite the remonstrances of the
guide, and went forward, passing between two pickets of the enemy,
who had no sentries thrown out. It was near four o’clock in the
morning when I stopped at the corner of a tope or grove of trees to
sleep for an hour, which Kanoujee Lall entreated I would not do; but
I thought he overrated the danger, and, lying down, I told him to
see if there was any one in the grove who would tell him where we
then were.
‘We had not gone far when I heard the English challenge “Who comes
there?” with a native accent. We had reached a British cavalry
outpost: my eyes filled with joyful tears, and I shook the Sikh
officer in charge of the picket heartily by the hand. The old
soldier was as pleased as myself when he heard whence I had come;
and he was good enough to send two of his men to conduct me to the
camp of the advance-guard. An officer of her Majesty’s 9th Lancers,
who was visiting his pickets, met me on the way, and took me to his
tent, where I got dry stockings and trousers, and, what I much
needed, a glass of brandy—a liquor I had not tasted for nearly two
months.
‘I thanked God for having safely conducted me through this dangerous
enterprise, and Kanoujee Lall for the courage and intelligence with
which he had conducted himself during this trying night. When we
were questioned, he let me speak as little as possible. He always
had a ready answer, and I feel that I am indebted to him in a great
measure more than to myself for my escape. It will give me great
satisfaction to hear that he has been suitably rewarded.
‘In undertaking this enterprise, I was actuated by a sense of duty,
believing that I could be of use to his excellency the
commander-in-chief when approaching, for its relief, the besieged
garrison, which had heroically resisted the attack of thirty times
its own number for nearly five months, within a weak and irregular
intrenchment; and, secondly, because I was anxious to perform some
service which would insure to me the honour of wearing our Most
Gracious Majesty’s Cross.
‘My reception by Sir Colin Campbell and his staff was cordial and
kind to the utmost degree; and if I never have more than the
remembrance of their condescension and of the heartfelt
congratulation of Sir James Outram and of all the officers of his
garrison on my safe return to them—I shall not repine, though to be
sure having the Victoria Cross would make me a prouder and a happier
man.
‘JAMES CAVANAGH.
‘_Camp, Alum Bagh, Nov. 24._’
[Illustration:
GROUP OF MAHRATTA ARMS.—From the Collection of Sir S. Meyrick: _a_
_a_, Helmet; _b_, Sword; _c_, Musket; _d_, Knife and Sheath; _e_,
Mace; _f_, Shield.
]
-----
Footnote 115:
‘Story of the Lucknow Residency,’ chap. xix. pp. 316-337.
Footnote 116:
The _thalookdaree_ system of Oude requires a little explanation, in
relation to the participants in the Revolt. Most of the annexations
effected by the East India Company were followed by changes either in
the ownership of the soil, or in the assessment of land-tax—such
land-tax being the chief item in the Company’s revenue. When the
several annexations occurred, it was found throughout a great part of
India that superior holders—whether proprietors, hereditary farmers of
revenue, or hereditary middlemen—held large tracts of land, in a
middle position between the native governments and the cultivating
communities, and were responsible for the revenue to the state. In
Bengal, these influential men were generally recognised by the Company
as proprietors, and the rights of the sub-holders almost wholly
ignored. In the Northwest Provinces, acquired by the Company at a much
later date, the thalookdars, zemindars, or whatever these landowners
may have been called, were generally set aside; but the asserted
rights of some of them became subjects of endless litigation in the
courts of law; the landowners frequently obtained decrees against the
Company, and many received a percentage in compromise of their rights
or claims. In Oude, annexed in 1856, the thalookdaree system was
particularly strong. Almost the whole country had by degrees become
parcelled out among great thalookdars or zemindars. Though under a
Mohammedan government, these men were almost universally
Hindoos—native chiefs who had obtained great prescription, exercised
great power and authority, and were in fact feudatories of the
government. They were much more than mere middlemen or farmers of
revenue. They had their own forts, troops, and guns; they obeyed their
nawab or king so far as they chose or were compelled; they seized with
the strong hand estates which had unquestionably belonged to village
communities in earlier times; and they fought with each other as
English barons or Scottish clan-chieftains were wont to do in past
ages. Sir William Sleeman estimated the number of armed retainers,
whose services these thalookdars could command, at scarcely less than
one hundred thousand; while they had nearly five hundred pieces of
cannon in their several forts or strongholds. Under this system the
village proprietary rights, even if not actually thrown aside and
disregarded, became more weak and undefined than when the villagers
held directly from the government. Hence arose a very embarrassing
question when the Company took possession of Oude. With whom was the
settlement to be made? The thalookdars were strong and in possession;
the village communities were dormant, broken, and ill defined. It
would have taken some time to suppress the one and revive the other.
The opinions of revenue officers in the Northwest Provinces ran
strongly in favour of village proprietaries; still stronger in the
Punjaub; and Oude was treated somewhat in the same way. The result in
many cases was to eject the thalookdars, and make direct settlements
with the village communities. When the Revolt began, the thalookdars
at first behaved well to the British personally; with the butchery by
a rabble they had no sympathy; and many were the Europeans whose lives
they saved. But, the Company’s government being for a time upset; and
the period since the annexation having been too short to destroy the
strength of the thalookdars, or to enable the village proprietors to
acquire a steady possession of their rights—the thalookdars almost
universally resumed what they considered to be their own. There is
evidence, too, that in this course of proceeding they met with a
considerable amount of popular support. It was in this way they became
committed against the British government. Till Havelock’s retreat from
his unsuccessful attempt to relieve Lucknow in August, the thalookdars
adopted a temporising policy; but when they saw him and Outram retreat
across the Ganges to Cawnpore, they thought their time had arrived.
They began to act in concert—not because they had much sympathy with
mutinous sepoys, with the decrepit king of Delhi, or with the deposed
king of Oude—but in the hope that, amid the general anarchy, they
might regain their old influence.
Footnote 117:
See NOTE, at the end of this chapter.
Footnote 118:
One of the two hard-worked and sorely tried chaplains, in a letter to
a relation when the dangers were past, employed a few simple words
that really described the position of the Residency enclosure better
than any long technical details. English friends had talked and
written concerning the ‘impregnable fort’ in which the garrison were
confined; to which he replied: ‘We were in no fort at all; we occupied
a few houses in a large garden, with a low wall on one side, and only
an earthen parapet on the other, in the middle of a large city, the
buildings of which completely commanded us, and swarming with
thousands of our deadly foes, thirsting for our blood. God gave us
protection and pluck, the former in a wonderful degree, or not one of
us would be here to tell about it.... The engineers calculated that
all those months never one second elapsed without a shot being thrown
in at us, and at times upwards of seventy per second, besides round
shot and shell.’ This probably means that the _average_ was a shot per
second for nearly five months—_twelve or fourteen million deadly
missiles_ thrown into this narrow and crowded space.
Footnote 119:
H.M. 8th, 53d, 75th, and 93d foot.
2d and 4th Punjaub infantry.
H.M. 9th Lancers.
Detachments 1st, 2d, and 5th Punjaub cavalry.
Detachment Hodson’s Horse.
Detachments Bengal and Punjaub Sappers and Miners.
Naval brigade, 8 guns; Bengal H.A., 10 guns.
Bengal horse field-battery, 6 guns; Heavy field-battery.
—About 700 cavalry and 2700 Infantry, besides artillery.
Footnote 120:
Detachments H.M. 23d and 82d foot.
Detachments Madras horse-artillery, royal artillery, royal engineers,
and military train.
Footnote 121:
The officers killed were Lieutenant-colonel Biddulph; Captains Hardy,
Wheatcroft, Dalzell, and Lumsden; Lieutenants Mayne, Frankland, and
Dobbs; Ensign Thompson; and Midshipman Daniel. The wounded were Sir
Colin Campbell; Brigadier Russell; Lieutenant-colonels Ewart and Hale;
Majors Alison and Barnston; Captains Alison, Anson, Grant, Hammond,
Travers, Walton, and Burroughs; Lieutenants Salmond, Milman, Ford,
Halkett, Munro, French, Wynne, Cooper, Welch, Goldsmith, Wood, Paul,
M’Queen, Oldfield, and Henderson; Ensigns Watson, Powell, and
M’Namara; Midshipman Lord A. P. Clinton; and Assistant-surgeon Veale.
Footnote 122:
‘I am aware of no parallel to our series of mines in modern war.
Twenty-one shafts, aggregating 200 feet in depth, and 3291 feet of
gallery, have been executed. The enemy advanced twenty mines against
the palaces and outposts; of these they exploded three, which caused
us loss of life, and two which did no injury; seven have been blown
in; and out of seven others the enemy have been driven, and their
galleries taken possession of by our miners—results of which the
engineer department may well be proud. The reports and plans forwarded
by Sir Henry Havelock, K.C.B., and now submitted to his excellency,
will explain how a line of gardens, courts, and dwelling-houses,
without fortified _enceinte_, without flanking defences, and closely
connected with the buildings of a city, has been maintained for eight
weeks in a certain degree of security; notwithstanding the close and
constant musketry-fire from loopholed walls and windows, often within
thirty yards, and from every lofty building within rifle-range, and
notwithstanding a frequent though desultory fire of round-shot and
grape from guns posted at various distances, from seventy to five
hundred yards. This result has been obtained by the skill and courage
of the engineer and quartermaster-general’s departments, zealously
aided by the brave officers and soldiers, who have displayed the same
cool determination and cheerful alacrity in the toils of the trench
and amid the concealed dangers of the mine that they had previously
exhibited when forcing their way into Lucknow at the point of the
bayonet, and amid a most murderous fire.’
Footnote 123:
The fate of the few English prisoners at Lucknow is not clearly
traceable; but one account has stated that four Englishmen were put to
death on the night when the Residency was finally evacuated. When the
English troops, the women and children, the guns and baggage, and a
quarter of a million sterling in silver, had safely reached the Dil
Koosha, the leaders among the rebels became enraged beyond measure at
a manœuvre which completely balked them. A few of them rushed to the
Kaiser Bagh, where the unfortunate prisoners were confined, tied four
of them—Sir Mountstuart Jackson, Mr Orr, Mr Barnes, and Sergeant
Martin—to guns, and blew them away. The ladies were said to have been
spared at the intercession of one of the begums or princesses of Oude.
CHAPTER XXII.
CLOSING EVENTS OF THE YEAR.
The expedition of Sir Colin Campbell to Lucknow in November, followed by
the extraordinary rescue of the British residents at that city, formed
an episode in the history of the Indian Revolt well worthy of being
treated singly and separately from other matters. This having been done,
the present chapter may conveniently be devoted to the closing events of
the year in other places, touching only upon such occurrences as
immediately affected the mutiny or the plans for its suppression. As in
the former chapters[124]—relating, the one to July and August, and the
other to September and October—the survey (applicable in this case to
November and December) may usefully begin in the Calcutta provinces, and
thence travel westward.
Calcutta itself, for reasons more than once stated, was not likely to be
materially affected by mutinous proceedings. The interests of the native
towns-people, concerned in supplying the wants of a larger number of
Europeans than resided at any other city in India, led them to prefer
scenes of quiet, even if the Bengalee character had been more warlike
than is its wont; while the frequent landing of British troops from
other shores kept in awe such of the sepoy soldiers as still remained in
arms. A naval squadron anchored in the Hoogly, with sufficient power of
metal to batter the city to ruins if danger arose. The natives, except a
few of fanatical character, were more disposed to seek for holiday than
for war; and holiday occasionally fell to their share, in the
proceedings of the British themselves. On one day, towards the close of
November, there were 4500 British troops temporarily garrisoned at
Calcutta, and 11 ships-of-war anchored in the river. The troops
comprised H.M. 19th, 20th, 42d, 54th, 79th, and 97th regiments of foot,
or portions of them, together with one battalion of the 60th Rifles, and
one of the Rifle brigade. A review of most of these fine troops was held
on the Calcutta volunteers’ parade-ground, before the journey to the
upper provinces commenced. The Calcutta government commenced operations
for reorganising the vast regions which had been thrown into confusion
by the Revolt. A plan was sketched out for separating the divisions of
Delhi and Meerut from the Northwest Provinces, and transferring them to
the government of the Punjaub—in order that they might share in the
peculiar system of executive rule which had been found to work well in
the Punjaub, under the energetic control of Sir John Lawrence. The rest
of the Northwest Provinces could not be permanently reorganised until
the warlike operations had made further advance. Another proceeding on
the part of the government was to send out a commission to the Andaman
Islands, to examine how far they were suited as a penal settlement for
rebels or traitors sentenced to transportation; the commission comprised
naval and medical officers, who were empowered to select a spot healthy
in situation and easily defended.
In the easternmost districts of India, mutiny shewed itself in small
degree. It could hardly be other than slight, however; for the
Hindustani troops were few in number, and the general population not ill
affected. Three companies of the 34th Bengal native infantry, it will be
remembered,[125] were stationed at Chittagong at the very beginning of
the troubles in March and April; they not only remained faithful when
the other companies of the same regiment became mutinous at Berhampore,
but made a very high-flown declaration of their loyalty. After remaining
‘true to their salt’ throughout the whole of the summer and autumn,
these three companies at length yielded to the general mania. They broke
out into mutiny at Chittagong on the 18th of November, burnt their
lines, blew up the magazine, looted the treasury, and commenced a search
for Europeans. These latter escaped, chiefly in boats upon the river.
The mutineers then released the convicts from the jail, and decamped.
They moved northward, apparently tending toward Tipperah, where a petty
rajah held his court. Directly this was known, Major Byng, commanding a
Silhet native regiment, marched down from the hills, and met the
mutineers. A brief conflict ensued, in which the major unfortunately
received a mortal wound; but the misguided men of the 34th, meeting with
no kind of sympathy from the Silhetees, were almost wholly annihilated
within a few days.
There were at that time two companies of the 73d native regiment at
Dacca; and as soon as the authorities received from the magistrate of
Chittagong news of what had occurred at the last-mentioned place, they
resolved to disarm those two companies, as a precaution against
mischief. The sepoys, however, hearing the news from Chittagong more
speedily than the authorities, prepared for resistance. A party of
volunteers disarmed a few scattered sepoys; but as the others had
artillery to assist them, a hundred English sailors, with two or three
howitzers, were told off to deal with them. A sharp contest ensued at
the sepoy barracks, with balls, grape, and musketry; until at length the
sailors, determined on a closer attack, rushed upon the sepoys, drove
them out of the barracks, and killed many on the spot. The rest set off
on a hasty march to Jelpigoree, the head-quarters of the regiment. So
utterly was that part of India denuded of British troops, that there
were none to repel even one or two hundred mutineers; and many villages
were plundered on the road. The check came from a quarter where
apparently the mutineers least expected it—from the men of their own
regiment. The motives of the native troops were as inscrutable now as at
any former time; for although the two companies thus rebelled, fought,
and fled, the bulk of the regiment remained faithful. They had even
quietly permitted two hundred Goorkhas to join the regiment—that step
having been adopted by the authorities to infuse new blood into the
corps. An officer of the 73d, writing from Jelpigoree on the 3d of
December, said: ‘Our men have sworn to their native officers (not to us)
that they will do their duty; and our spies, who have hitherto proved so
trustworthy, declare that we may fully depend on the regiment. Yesterday
the test commenced by our ordering accoutrements and ammunition to be
served out to our two hundred Goorkhas. This was done cheerfully, and is
a very good indication of the prevailing feeling. A strange scene it
was, watching the sepoys doling out ammunition to Goorkhas to fight
against their own (the sepoys’) comrades, and it did one’s heart good to
see it: we are all under arms, and very sanguine.’ These men actually
joined in routing the mutinous companies of their own regiment, and in
driving them towards Bhotan, where they died miserably among an
unsympathising population.—Such discrepancies in conduct between
different regiments and different companies of the same regiment, threw
great difficulties in the way of any logical tracing of the causes of
the Revolt.
In a wide region of Bengal westward of Calcutta, the only incidents
requiring notice were two or three in which the Shekhawuttie battalion
shewed that it still remained faithful to the Company’s raj—almost the
last relic of the once magnificent Bengal army. With this regiment
Colonel Forster put down the recusant Rajah of Pachete, whose domain
touched the grand trunk-road above Raneegunge. After hovering some time
on the verge of treason, this man at length refused to obey the British
resident at Rugonauthpoor, Mr Lushington, who was obliged to intrench
himself in self-defence. Colonel Forster hastened thither; and by his
own boldness of bearing, and the faithfulness of his Shekhawutties, he
captured the rajah, a fort of no inconsiderable strength, much wealth,
and a mass of treasonable correspondence—without firing a shot. Shortly
afterwards, Forster marched to Sumbhulpore, where a band of ruffians,
headed by one of their own class, had commenced a course of violence
that needed and obtained a prompt check.
Let us hasten on to the busier scenes of the northwest, viewing them in
connection with Cawnpore as a central point of strategy, and with Sir
Colin Campbell as leader of all the British operations. This may the
more appropriately be done; because there were no events on the Lower
Ganges, between Calcutta and Benares, requiring notice, so far as
concerned the months of November and December.
Cawnpore was a centre in military matters for the following reasons. On
one side of it was Lucknow, so important in relation to the occupancy of
Oude; Allahabad, on another side, was on the great line of route for
troops from Calcutta; Agra and Delhi, towards the northwest, lay on the
path of approach from the Punjaub; while on the south and southwest were
the roads along which armies or columns of armies might march from the
two southern provinces of Madras and Bombay. Hence Sir Colin Campbell
made earnest endeavours to maintain a good position at Cawnpore, as a
convenient base of operations. Colonel Wilson, as commandant, was
instructed to attend to the wants of Lucknow so far as he could, and to
watch the movements of insurgent troops in the neighbourhood. This
continued throughout October. In November, when Sir Colin went with his
small army to relieve Lucknow, he left General Windham—well known in
Crimean warfare as the ‘hero of the Redan’—in command at Cawnpore, not
to fight, but to keep communication safely open from Lucknow _viâ_
Cawnpore to Allahabad. Sir Colin, it will be remembered,[126] hurried
back to Cawnpore at the end of November on account of events that had
occurred during his absence. What those events were, we have now to
narrate.
The series of disasters that occurred to General Windham originated in
part in the want of good communication between him and Sir Colin
Campbell. Whether the messengers were stopped by the way, does not
clearly appear; but Sir Colin remained in ignorance that the Gwalior
mutineers were approaching Cawnpore; while Windham received no replies
to letters sent by him, asking for instructions for his guidance. Sir
Colin knew nothing of Windham’s troubles until, on the 27th of November,
he heard at the Alum Bagh the noise of artillery-firing at Cawnpore;
while Windham received no aid or advice until Sir Colin himself appeared
late on the following day. Whether or not there were defective tactics
in the subsequent management of the affair, this uncertainty at the
beginning was unquestionably disadvantageous. Windham knew, about the
middle of the month, that the Gwalior and Indore mutineers, swelled to
20,000 strong by reinforcements of rebels from various quarters, had
reached within about thirty miles of Cawnpore, on the Calpee road; and a
week later he found that they were within twenty miles. As the troops at
his command barely exceeded 2000 men, and as he received no news from
Campbell, he considered how best to maintain his position. He was in an
intrenchment or intrenched fort, far distant from the one formerly
occupied by Sir Hugh Wheeler, and placed close to the Ganges, so as to
command the bridge of boats; there being within the intrenchment the
requisite buildings for the daily necessities of his force. As the city
of Cawnpore lay between him and the Calpee road, he deemed it necessary
to take up a new position. Leaving some of his troops, therefore, in the
intrenchment, he formed with the remainder a new camp at Dhuboulee,
close to the canal westward of the city, at a point where he believed he
would be able to watch and frustrate the enemy.
On the 26th, finding that the mutineers were approaching, he went out to
encounter them. He started at three in the morning with about 1200
infantry (chiefly of the 34th, 82d, 88th, and Rifles, 100 Sikh cavalry
and eight guns), and marched eight or nine miles to Bhowsee, near the
Pandoo Nuddee—leaving his camp-equipage and baggage near the city.
Brigadier Carthew was second in command; and the chief officers under
him were Colonels Walpole, Kelly, and Maxwell. The enemy were found
strongly posted on the opposite side of the dry bed of the Pandoo
Nuddee. The British advanced with a line of skirmishers along the whole
front, with supports on each flank, and a reserve in the centre. The
enemy opened a heavy fire of artillery from siege and field guns; but
such was the eagerness of the British troops to engage, that they
carried the position with a rush, cheering as they went; and a village,
half a mile in the rear of the enemy, was rapidly cleared. The mutineers
hastily took to flight, leaving behind them two howitzers and one gun.
At this point, apparently for the first time, Windham became aware that
he had been engaging the advanced column only of the enemy, and that the
main force was near at hand. Rendered uneasy by his position, he
resolved on retiring to protect the city, camp, cantonment,
intrenchment, and bridge of boats. This he did.
So far, then, the operations of the 26th were to a certain extent
successful. But disaster followed. He encamped for the night on the
Jewee Plain, on the Calpee side of Cawnpore, having the city between him
and the intrenchment. Whether Windham did not know that the enemy were
so near in great force, whether his camping-ground was ill chosen, or
whether he left his flanks unprotected, certain it is that, about noon
on the 27th, when his men were preparing for a camp-dinner, they were
surprised by an onslaught of the enemy in immense force, from behind a
thick cover of trees and brushwood, beginning with an overwhelming
artillery cannonade. For five hours did this attack continue, chiefly
near the point of junction of the Delhi and Calpee roads. Distracted by
an attack on three sides of him, Windham hastened to see what was doing
on the fourth side, towards the city; and here he ascertained that the
mutineers had turned his flanks, got into the city, and were beginning
to attack the intrenchment near the bridge. Retreat was at once resolved
on; and although the general’s dispatch did not state the fact, the
private letters shew that the retreat was _sauve qui peut_. For, in
truth, it became a matter of speed, whether the British could rush back
to the intrenchment in time to save it. They did so; but at the expense
of a large store of tents, saddlery, harness, camp-equipage, and private
property—all of which had to be abandoned in the hasty scamper from the
camp to the intrenchment. This booty the enemy at once seized upon, and
either appropriated or burned according to its degree of usefulness. No
less than five hundred tents fed a bonfire that night—a loss quite
irreparable at that time to the British.
Bitter was the mortification with which the troops contemplated this
day’s work. One of the officers said in a private letter: ‘You will read
the account of this day’s fighting with astonishment; for it tells how
English troops, with their trophies and their mottoes, and their
far-famed bravery, were repulsed and lost their camp, their baggage, and
their position, by [to?] the scouted and degraded natives of India.’ The
beaten ‘Feringhees,’ as the enemy had now a right to call them, did
certainly retreat to their intrenchment amid overturned tents, pillaged
baggage, men’s kits, fleeing camels, elephants, horses, and servants.
Another officer who had just come up from Allahabad, and who was within
the intrenchment on the afternoon of this day, thus described the scene:
‘Saw our troops retreating into the outer intrenchment. A regular panic
followed. Trains of elephants, camels, horses, bullock-wagons, and
coolies came in at the principal gate, laden with stuff. The principal
buildings are the General Hospital, the Sailors’ Hospital, the
Post-office, and the Commissariat-cellars. Around these houses, which
are scattered, crowds of camels, bullocks, and horses were collected,
fastened by ropes to stakes in the ground, and among the animals, piles
of trunks, beds, chairs, and miscellaneous furniture and baggage. There
was scarcely room to move. Met one of the chaplains hastening into the
intrenchment. He had left everything in his tent outside. The servants
almost everywhere abandoned their masters when they heard the guns.
Mounted officers were galloping across the rough ground between the
inner and outer intrenchments, and doolie after doolie, with its red
curtains down, concealing some poor victim, passed on to the hospitals.
The poor fellows were brought in, shot, cut, shattered, and wounded in
every imaginable way; and as they went by, raw stumps might be seen
hanging over the sides of the doolies, literally like torn butcher-meat.
The agonies which I saw some of them endure during the surgical
operations were such as no tongue or pen can describe. The surgeons, who
did their utmost, were so overworked, that many sufferers lay bleeding
for hours before it was possible to attend to them.’ During the hasty
retreat, one of the guns had been overturned in a narrow street in
Cawnpore. The British could not wait to bring it away; but at night
General Windham ordered 100 men of the 64th to aid a few seamen of the
naval brigade in an expedition to secure the gun. It was a delicate
task, in a city crowded with the enemy; how it was done, one of the
officers of the naval brigade has told.[127]
What was next to be done, became an important question. General Windham
assembled his superior officers, and conferred with them. If he could
have obtained reliable information concerning the position of the
enemy’s artillery, he would have proposed a night-attack; but, in
ignorance on this important point, it was resolved to defer operations
till the morrow. Early on the 28th, accordingly, the force was divided
into four sections, thus distributed: One, under Walpole, was to defend
the advanced portion of the town on the left side of the canal; a
second, under Wilson, was to hold the intrenchment, and establish a
strong picket on the extreme right; a third, under Carthew, was to hold
the Bithoor road in advance of the intrenchment, receiving support from
the picket there if needed; while the fourth section, under Windham
himself, was to defend the portion of the town nearest the Ganges on the
left of the canal, and support Walpole if needful. These several
arrangements were especially intended to protect the intrenchment and
the bridge of boats—so important in relation to Sir Colin Campbell’s
operations in Oude. The British position was to be wholly defensive. A
severe struggle ensued. The Gwalior mutineers were now joined by another
force under Nena Sahib, and a third under his brother Bhola Sahib;
altogether the insurgents numbered 21,000. They marched unmolested
towards the city and cantonment; and then were the few British sorely
pressed indeed. Walpole was speedily engaged in very hard fighting; and
it was on his side only that anything like a victory was achieved. Aided
by Colonels Woodford and Watson, and Captain Greene, Walpole repulsed a
vigorous attack made by the enemy, and captured two 18-pounder guns.
Carthew, who struggled from morning till night against a most formidable
body of the enemy, was at length obliged to retire from his position.
Wilson, eager to render service at an exposed point, led his section of
troops—chiefly consisting of H.M. 64th foot—against four guns planted by
the enemy in front of Carthew’s position. He and his gallant men
advanced in the face of the enemy, and under a murderous fire, for more
than half a mile, up a ravine commanded by high ground in front as well
as on both sides. From the ridge in front, the four 9-pounders played
upon them as they rushed forward. After reaching and almost capturing
the guns, they were encountered by a very large force of the enemy who
had hitherto been hidden; further progress was impossible; they
retreated, and saw their officers falling around them in mournful
number. Colonel Wilson himself was killed; as were also Major Stirling,
Captain M’Crea, and Captain Morphey; while many other officers were
wounded. It was a defeat and a loss, for which no counterbalancing
advantage was gained.
Thus the 28th had increased the humiliation of the preceding day. Tents,
baggage, officers, prestige—all had suffered. The mutineers revelled in
the city as conquerors on the night of the 28th, seizing everything
which had belonged to the British. More than 10,000 rounds of Enfield
cartridges, the mess-plate of four Queen’s regiments, paymasters’
chests, and a large amount of miscellaneous property, fell into their
hands. On the morning of the 29th the insurgents began to bombard the
intrenchment and the bridge of boats. Had not Sir Colin Campbell arrived
at that critical time, it is hard to say what might have been the amount
of disaster; for the enemy were in immense strength; and if the bridge
of boats had been broken, the fate of the refugees from Lucknow might
have been sad indeed. All that day did the firing of the enemy continue.
All that day did the living stream from Lucknow approach the bridge. Sir
Colin immediately assumed command at Cawnpore. Mortifying as it was to
him to leave the enemy in possession of the city and everything west of
it, he had no alternative. One holy duty pressed upon him—to protect the
helpless Lucknow convoy until it could be sent on to Allahabad. He
despatched Hope Grant with a column, to keep open the road from Cawnpore
through Futtehpoor to Allahabad; while he employed all his other troops
in keeping the enemy at bay. The officers in the intrenchment, looking
over their earthworks, could see the six miles’ train of women,
children, sick, wounded, bearers, servants, camp-followers, horses,
oxen, camels, elephants, wagons, carts, palanquins, doolies, advancing
along the road to the bridge; and most narrowly were the movements of
the enemy watched, to prevent any interruption to the passage of the
cavalcade over the frail bridge.
This unfortunate series of events at Cawnpore greatly disconcerted Sir
Colin Campbell. In his first dispatch to government relating to them, he
referred almost without comment to Windham’s own narrative. Three weeks
afterwards a singularly worded dispatch was issued from his camp near
Cawnpore, expressing a regret at an ‘omission’ in his former dispatch;
and adding, ‘I desire to make my acknowledgment of the great
difficulties in which Major-general Windham, C.B., was placed during the
operations he describes in his dispatch; and to recommend him and the
officers whom he notices as having rendered him assistance to your
lordship’s protection and good offices.’ Lord Canning shortly afterwards
issued a general order, containing an echo of Sir Colin’s dispatch.
General Windham continued for a time with the commander-in-chief. If
official dissatisfaction with his management at Cawnpore existed, it was
either hushed up or smoothed away by subsequent explanations.
The month of December opened amid events that caused sufficient anxiety
to Sir Colin Campbell. The convoy of Lucknow fugitives had not yet been
sent away; the Gwalior mutineers had not yet been defeated. He was
compelled to act on the defensive until his helpless non-combatants were
provided for. During one week, from the 26th of November to the 2d of
December, the loss in British officers had been very considerable in and
near Cawnpore; for 10 were reported killed, 32 wounded, and 2 missing.
The commander-in-chief, therefore, while repelling the still audacious
insurgents, had to promote and establish numerous officers, as well as
to reorganise his force.
It was a great relief to Sir Colin when the convoy left Cawnpore on its
march towards Allahabad. He was then free to act as a military
commander; and the enemy did not long delay in giving him an opportunity
of proving his powers of command. On the 5th of December the enemy’s
artillery attacked his left pickets, while their infantry shewed on the
same quarter; they also fired on the British pickets in the
Generalgunje—an old bazaar extending along the canal in front of the
line occupied by the camp. Brigadier Greathed had held this advanced
position supported by Peel’s and Bourchier’s guns. Sir Colin resolved to
take the offensive on the following day. The enemy occupied a strong
position. Their centre was in the city of Cawnpore, and lined the houses
and bazaars overhanging the canal and the barricaded streets; their
right stretched away to a point beyond the crossing of the main
trunk-road over the canal; while their left occupied the old cantonment,
from which General Windham’s post had been principally assailed. The
canal, along which were placed the centre and the right, was thus the
main feature of the enemy’s position, and could only be passed by two
bridges. The enemy’s camp was two miles in rear of their right, on the
Calpee road, which was intended to be their line of advance and retreat.
Sir Colin well studied this position before he formed his plan. ‘It
appeared to me,’ he said in his dispatch, ‘that if the enemy’s right
were vigorously attacked, it would be driven from its position without
assistance being able to come from other parts of the line: the wall of
the town, which gave cover to our attacking columns on the right, being
an effective obstacle to the movement of any portion of the enemy’s
troops from their left to their right.’ In fact, his quick eye saw that
the Gwalior mutineers had placed one-half their force in such a spot
that it could not help the other half, provided the attack were made in
a certain fashion. It was really a large and powerful army to which he
was now confronted; so many other mutinous regiments had joined the
Gwalior Contingent, that their force was now estimated at little short
of 25,000 men, with about 40 pieces of artillery.
[Illustration:
The Battle of Cawnpore, December 6, 1857.
]
On the morning of the 6th, the commander-in-chief assigned to all his
several corps and regiments their respective duties.[128] General
Windham opened a heavy bombardment at nine o’clock, from the
intrenchment in the old cantonment, to induce the enemy to believe that
the attack would be in that quarter. For two hours, the rest of the
force was quietly taking up its position—Greathed’s column in front of
the enemy’s centre, and the other columns in rear of the old cavalry
lines, effectually masked from observation. When it was judged that
Windham’s fire had drawn the enemy’s attention away from the real point
of attack, Sir Colin sent his cavalry and horse-artillery by a detour on
the left, to cross the canal a mile and a half higher up, and assail the
enemy’s rear; while the infantry deployed in parallel lines fronting the
canal. Captain Peel was the first man to cross the canal bridge for the
attack on the enemy’s camp; the heavy guns followed him; and in a few
minutes the enemy were astonished at finding themselves in the heat of
battle on a side not at all contemplated by them. Their defeat was equal
to their surprise. Sir Colin’s regiments crossed the canal by various
bridges, reached the enemy’s camp, cut their forces in two, and then
completely routed them—pursuing them for fourteen miles on the Calpee
road, and capturing guns and wagons as they went. In all this work the
sailors of the naval brigade pushed forward with an energy which seems
to have struck even the commander-in-chief, accustomed as he was to
deeds of daring. In his official dispatch he said: ‘I must here draw
attention to the manner in which the heavy 24-pounder guns were impelled
and managed by Captain Peel and his gallant sailors. Through the
extraordinary energy and good-will with which the latter have worked,
their guns have been constantly in advance throughout our late
operations, from the relief of Lucknow till now—as if they were light
field-pieces. The service rendered by them in clearing our front has
been incalculable. On this occasion there was the sight beheld of
24-pounder guns advancing with the first line of skirmishers.’ Before
Sir Colin returned to camp in the evening, the enemy had been driven
entirely and completely away from Cawnpore. The four infantry brigades
engaged in this hot day’s work were headed by Brigadiers Greathed,
Adrian Hope, Walpole, and Inglis. Windham was only employed in masking
the real nature of the attack. Sir Colin mentioned this matter in the
following peculiar terms: ‘Owing to his knowledge of the ground, I
requested Major-general Windham to remain in command of the
intrenchment, the fire of which was a very important feature in the
operations of the 6th of December; although I felt and explained to
General Windham that it was a command hardly worthy of his rank.’
There was a subsidiary operation in this battle of the 6th. After the
capture of the enemy’s camp, in the afternoon, General Mansfield was
sent to occupy a position called the Subadar’s Tank, in rear of the
enemy’s left, and about a mile and a half from the intrenchment. Having
taken measures for the safeguard of the captured camp, and for
maintaining a good post on the Calpee road, Mansfield advanced towards
the Tank—struggling over broken ground and through enclosures, and
driving parties of the enemy before him. After a good deal of
manœuvring, in ground that greatly assisted the rebels, Mansfield
succeeded in securing the position sought, and had the satisfaction of
seeing large bodies of the enemy’s infantry and cavalry move off
westward in full retreat. As it was not practicable to communicate with
Sir Colin after sunset, the position taken up being almost isolated; and
as there were considerable numbers of the enemy still in occupation of
the town and the old cantonment—Mansfield strengthened the pickets all
round his position, and bivouacked his troops for the night, where they
were left undisturbed by the enemy.
The mutineers were so thoroughly worsted in these operations on the 6th,
that they retired from Cawnpore, irresolute touching their future
plans—some marching in one direction, some in another. After securing
and consolidating his position on the 7th, Sir Colin prepared further
work for his lieutenants. On the 8th, he gave orders to Brigadier Hope
Grant to march to Bithoor, and, if it should appear to him desirable, to
advance further to Serai Ghat, a ferry over the Ganges about twenty-five
miles above Cawnpore. This energetic officer set off with a strong
column of 2800 men[129] and 11 guns, and marched through Bithoor to
Soorajpore, three miles short of Serai Ghat. Here he bivouacked for the
night. Early in the morning of the 9th, leaving a portion of his column
to guard the baggage, he advanced with the main body, and found the
enemy assembling on the bank of the river. The opposing forces soon got
engaged in an artillery action, in which Grant’s guns narrowly escaped
being lost in a quicksand at the river-side. After a sharp firing for
half an hour, the enemy’s guns were silenced and then withdrawn. Then
came up a force of the rebels’ cavalry, to endeavour to capture Grant’s
guns; but he promptly sent forward his own cavalry, which advanced upon
them, drove them away, pursued them, and cut up a considerable number.
The nature of the ground, however, was such that most of the enemy
reached the cover of trees and houses before the British could intercept
them. Hope Grant’s infantry was not engaged in this conflict; the
retreat of the enemy taking place before their aid was needed. The enemy
left behind them fourteen brass guns and howitzers, one iron 18-pounder,
together with a large store of wagons and ammunition—all of which were
speedily secured by the conquerors. These trophies were brought away by
the exertions of the infantry, who had much difficulty to contend
against along the quicksands. The troops had been marching and fighting
for thirty hours, with few and short intervals, and had scarcely eaten
for twenty-four hours; so that a supper, a night’s rest, and a quiet day
on the 10th, were very welcome to them. This affair at Serai Ghat
completely succeeded; but the most extraordinary fact relating to it has
yet to be mentioned. Hope Grant’s casualty-list _was a blank_! In his
dispatch he said: ‘I am truly grateful to God, and happy to say, that
though the fire of grape from the enemy was most severe and well placed,
falling among the artillery like hail, I had not a single man even
wounded, and only one horse of Captain Middleton’s battery killed. It
was truly marvellous and providential. Thirteen guns, most of them
9-pounders and 24-pounder howitzers, were playing with grape on the
gallant artillery, and with round-shot upon the cavalry, the former
within about five hundred yards—and his excellency is well aware with
what precision these rebels fire their guns—yet not one single man was
wounded.’ It requires all one’s faith in the honour of a truthful man to
credit such a marvellous announcement.
In the various operations from the 3d to the 8th of December inclusive,
Sir Colin suffered a loss of 13 killed and 86 wounded—a mere trifle
compared with the strength of his force and the kind of enemy with whom
he had to deal. Among the killed were Lieutenants Salmond and Vincent;
and among the wounded, General Mansfield, Lieutenant-colonel Horsford,
Captains Longden, Forbes, and Mansfield, Lieutenants Neill and Stirling,
Ensigns Wrench, Graham, and Dyce. Lieutenant Stirling afterwards died
from the effects of a wound which was at first reputed curable.
The occurrences narrated in the last few pages will have shewn by what
steps Sir Colin Campbell obtained a firm footing at Cawnpore, as a
centre from which he and his officers might operate in various
directions. He had removed the British from Lucknow; he had furnished to
Outram such a force as would enable that general to hold the Alum Bagh
against all assailants; and he had dispersed the formidable rebel army
which so endangered Windham and the British interests at Cawnpore. In
the latter half of December he prepared to start off, with one portion
of his force, towards Furruckabad; while Walpole was to proceed to
Etawah, and Hope Grant to Futtehpoor; leaving Seaton to operate near
Minpooree, Franks near Benares, and other brigadiers and colonels in
various directions as rapidly as small columns could be brought
together. The object appeared to be, to attack and disperse the enemy in
various parts of the Northwest Provinces, and either permit or compel
them to retreat into Oude—where a great effort, made early in the
ensuing year, might possibly crush the rebellion altogether. So much of
these operations as took place in December may briefly be noticed here,
before proceeding to the affairs of Central India.
The whole region around Benares, Mirzapore, Allahabad, Goruckpore, and
Jounpoor was thrown into occasional uneasiness—not so much by rebellious
manifestations at those places, as by temptations thrown out by the
Oudians. Mahomed Hussein was still powerful as a leader near the Oudian
frontier; and he left no means untried to rally numerous insurgents
around his standard. As the British could spare very few troops for
service in this quarter, Mahomed Hussein remained throughout the most of
the year master in and near Goruckpore. Even if the British were enabled
to defeat him occasionally, they had no cavalry wherewith to organise a
pursuit, and he speedily returned to his old quarters. Thus, towards the
close of December, Colonel Rowcroft, with a mixed body of English
sailors, Sikh police, and Goorkha irregulars, defeated this chieftain
near Mujhowlee; but, unable to pursue him without cavalry, the victory
was of little effect. Jung Bahadoor, as we have seen in a former
chapter, sent a strong body of Goorkhas several weeks earlier to aid in
the pacification of this part of India; and the gallant little Nepaulese
warriors enabled the few English officers to effect that which would
have been impracticable without such assistance. Jung Bahadoor himself,
in conformity with an engagement made with Viscount Canning, prepared to
join in the scene in person. He descended with 9000 picked men from his
mountains in December, to attack the Oudian rebels near Goruckpore and
Azimghur, and drive them back to their own country. It was just at the
close of the year that he began to encounter the enemy, and to obtain
successes which left Franks, Rowcroft, Longden, and other officers, free
to engage in such operations as Sir Colin Campbell might plan for them
at the opening of the new year.
Allahabad and Mirzapore, though often threatened, remained safely in
British hands. In the Rewah district, southwest of those cities, the
rajah still continued faithful, and Captain Osborne still carried on
those energetic operations by which he had so long and so wonderfully
maintained his post in a territory where he was almost the sole
Englishman, and where many of the rajah’s troops were burning with
impatience to join the insurgents elsewhere. Osborne was incessantly on
the watch, and almost incessantly in motion, to keep open the important
line of route between Mirzapore through Rewah to Jubbulpoor—part of the
available postal route between Calcutta and Bombay. There was a nest of
rebels at Myhere that gave him much trouble; but, aided by the faithful
portion of the rajah’s troops, he defeated them at Kunchynpore and
Zorah; and finally, on the 28th of December, stormed and captured Myhere
itself.
In Oude, as the last chapter sufficiently shewed, British power was
represented simply and solely by Sir James Outram and his companions in
the Alum Bagh and at the Bridge of Bunnee. Lucknow was quite in the
hands of the enemy, as were all the provincial districts of Oude. Sir
James maintained his post steadily; not strong enough to make conquests,
but holding the key to a position that might become all-important as
soon as the commander-in-chief should resume operations in that quarter.
So well did he keep watch and guard, that the movements of any insurgent
troops in his vicinity became speedily known to him. On the 22d of
December, the rebels made a clever attempt to obtain possession of the
road to Cawnpore. They posted 1200 men inside a jungle, with a sandy
plain in front and a road close at hand. Sir James, detecting the
intended plan, silently moved out two regiments in the dead of the
night. The soft sand deadened all sound; and dawn found them within the
enemy’s pickets. A rattling volley and a cheer startled the enemy, who,
after one discharge of their muskets, fled, leaving a hundred of their
number dead on the field, besides four guns and several
ammunition-wagons. One good result of this victory was, to induce some
of the villagers to bring supplies for sale to the camp.
In Rohilcund, nothing could at present be effected to wrest the province
from the enemy, until the Doab had been cleared from the host of rebels
and marauders who infested it.
The proceedings of certain columns in the Doab, both before and after
Sir Colin’s victory at Cawnpore, must here be noticed.
Colonel Seaton, during the month of November, was placed in command of a
column—consisting of one wing of the 1st Bengal Europeans, the 7th
Punjaub infantry, a squadron of Carabiniers, Hodson’s Horse, a troop of
horse-artillery, and two companies of Sappers and Miners. Seaton started
from Delhi, and worked his way southeastward, between the Jumna and the
Ganges, clearing off small portions of the enemy as he went. After
picking up at Allygurh a small force from the Agra garrison under Major
Eld, he started again on the 13th of December, towards Etawah and
Minpooree. The self-styled Rajah of Minpooree, who had fled at the
approach of Greathed’s column in October, afterwards returned to his old
haunts, and expelled the officials established there by Greathed. His
palace had been blown up, and his treasury and jewel-house looted; yet
he possessed influence enough to collect a band of retainers in his
service. To punish this rebel was one of the duties intrusted to Colonel
Seaton. On the 14th, he fell in with a body of the insurgents, 4000
strong, at Gunjeree, on a small stream called the Neem Nuddee. His
column suddenly surprised them, disordered them by a brilliant charge of
Carabiniers, and drove them in confusion along the Futteghur
road—capturing several guns on the way. Hodson’s Horse cut down many of
them during a brief pursuit. On the 15th, the column marched to
Khasgunj, and on the 16th to Sahawur—in each case only to learn that the
enemy had just fled. Seaton, determined not to give them up readily,
marched on to Putialah, several miles further on the Furruckabad road,
where he came up with them on the morning of the 17th. They were drawn
up in a good position, with their centre and left posted behind ravines,
and their right abutting on a tope of trees in front of the village.
After having caused this position to be well reconnoitred by Captain
Hodson and Lieutenant Greathed, Colonel Seaton began the contest with a
sharp fire of light artillery, to which the enemy promptly responded. He
then ordered the cavalry round to the right, to avoid the ravines, and
to attack the enemy in flank. While this was being done, the infantry,
deploying into line, advanced boldly on the enemy’s right, charged with
the bayonet, and speedily drove them out of the tope and village. The
rout was complete, the cavalry having got round beyond the ravines, and
reached a point whence they could pursue the fleeing enemy. Thirteen
guns, camp-equipage, baggage, ammunition, and stores fell into the hands
of the conquerors; while no less than 600 of the enemy were computed to
have fallen in the field or during the pursuit. Leaving Furruckabad and
its chieftain to be dealt with by Sir Colin Campbell, Colonel Seaton
moved on towards Minpooree. He found the enemy awaiting him, posted a
mile west of the city, with their front screened by large trees, under
cover of which their guns opened upon the column as it came up. Seaton,
by a flank-movement, disconcerted them, and they commenced a retreat,
which resulted in the loss of six guns and a large number of men. The
colonel at once took possession of Minpooree.
Brigadier Showers, another officer to whom the management of a column
was intrusted, started, like Seaton, from Delhi, and, like him, sought
to regain towns and districts which had long been a prey to misrule.
This column began its operations in October, and during the following
month returned to Delhi, after having retaken Nunoond, Dadree, and other
places southwest of the city, together with many lacs of rupees which
the rebels had looted from the several treasuries of the Company.
Between Delhi and the Sutlej, General Van Cortlandt maintained
tranquillity by the aid of a small force. Colonel Gerrard was the
commander of another small column; consisting of one European regiment
and a miscellaneous body of native troops. With this he marched to
Rewaree, and thence to the town of Narnoul in Jhujjur, where a rebel
chief, Sunnand Khan, had taken post with a number of armed retainers.
Gerrard defeated them, and captured their stronghold, but his own
gallant life was forfeited. Another small force, divided into
detachments according to the services required, took charge of the
triangular space of country included between Agra, Muttra, and Allygurh.
Colonel Riddell and Major Eld moved about actively within this space—now
watching the movements of rebellious chieftains, now cutting off the
advance of mutineers from Rohilcund.
Colonel Walpole of the Rifle Brigade, in the higher capacity of
brigadier, was intrusted by Sir Colin Campbell with the command of a
column, consisting of H.M. 88th foot, two battalions of the Rifle
Brigade, three squadrons of the 9th Lancers, the 1st Punjaub cavalry,
Bourchier’s battery, and Blunt’s troop of horse-artillery. His duty was
to sweep along the western half of the Doab, near the Jumna, and clear
it of rebels. He started from Cawnpore on the 18th of December, and on
the following day reached Akburpore, half-way to Calpee. Here he
remained a few days, settling the surrounding country, which had long
been disturbed by the Gwalior mutineers. From thence he proceeded
towards Etawah, to clear the country in the direction of Agra and
Dholpore.
It will thus be seen that, while Sir Colin was engaged in the larger
operations at Lucknow and Cawnpore, and soon after the completion of
those operations, small columns of troops were marching and fighting in
various parts of the Northwest Provinces, clearing away bands of
insurgents. The mutinied sepoy regiments still kept together in large
bodies, mostly in Oude or on its borders; the insurgents here adverted
to were rather marauders and plunderers, who were influenced very little
either by creed or by nationality in taking up arms; they were retainers
of ambitious petty chieftains, or they were reckless men, who hoped in
the scramble to enrich themselves with plunder.
The commander-in-chief himself took the field just before the close of
the year. Having made arrangements for the security of Cawnpore after
the great victory over the Gwalior mutineers, and having marked out
separate paths of duty to be followed by Seaton, Walpole, Hope Grant,
Franks, Rowcroft, and other officers, he directed his attention towards
Furruckabad, which had long been in hostile hands. This city, near the
point of junction of Oude, Rohilcund, and the Doab, it was important to
place again under British control. Colonel Seaton was ordered to direct
his march towards that point, after other operations in the Doab; and
Sir Colin now arranged to co-operate with him. Leaving Cawnpore in the
last week of December, he marched up the great trunk-road, by way of
Meerun-ke-Serai. It was not, however, until the year 1858 had arrived,
that Campbell, Walpole, and Seaton, meeting from various points,
effected a thorough capture of Furruckabad, and of the long deserted
cantonment at Futteghur. Here, however, as in many other quarters, the
commander-in-chief had to bear the vexation of losing his prey; the
enemy, wonderfully alert in their movements, escaped from those places
just before he reached them; he captured both the towns, but the enemy
were still at large to fight elsewhere.
Let us on to Delhi.
Ever since the conquest in September, the imperial city had gradually
assumed a state somewhat more orderly than was possible immediately
after the siege. Many weeks after the conquest, when the _Delhi Gazette_
had again got into working-order, it contained a graphic account of the
city in its condition at that time. On the road from Kurnaul to Delhi
was an almost continuous line of dead carcasses of camels, horses, and
bullocks, with their skins dried into parchment over the mouldering
bones. Here and there were remains of intrenchments, where battles had
been fought on the road. From Badulla Serai to the Lahore Gate of the
city every tree was either levelled with the ground, or the branches
lopped off with round-shot. The garden-houses of the wealthy citizens
were in almost every instance masses of ruins, with the bleaching
remains of men and beasts around them. Here and there might be seen a
perfectly white skeleton of a human being; while on all sides lay
scattered fragments of red and blue clothing, cartouch-boxes,
round-shot, fragments of shell, and grape-shot. Near the Subzee Mundee
every tree was a mere bare trunk, with the branches and foliage gone,
and shot-marks visible all around. The gaily ornamented residences near
at hand were masses of blackened ruins, with sand-bags and loopholed
screens which told of many a scene of fiery warfare. With the exception
of the Moree Bastion and the Cashmere Gate, the northern wall of the
city did not exhibit much evidence of devastation. The Cashmere Gate
breach had been repaired. The mainguard was wholly destroyed. St James’s
Church was full of shot-holes, even up to the ball and cross. Most of
the houses in this part of the city were utter ruins, some blackened as
if by fire. The Bank, formerly the residence of the Begum Sumroo, had
nothing but the walls and fragments of verandah remaining; and in a like
state was the house of Sir T. Metcalfe. In the narrow street leading
from Skinner’s house to the Chandnee Chowk, every house bore visible
proof of the showers of musket-balls that must have fallen; and every
door was completely riddled. The roads were still cut up with shot and
shell furrows. In many of the streets might be seen the _débris_ of
archways, which had been built up by the city people, but broken into by
our troops. Shop-doors and huge gates lay about in all directions, many
of which were well backed up by heavy stone-work, logs of wood, &c.; and
remains of sand-bag defences were numerous. In short, the city shewed
that it had been obstinately defended, and that its conquest must have
been terrible work for besiegers as well as besieged.
The aged king and his family still continued to be the subjects of
newspaper gossip, mostly in a strain of fierce invective against the
authorities for shewing lenity. It was stated in a former chapter,[130]
that Mrs Hodson, wife to the gallant officer who had captured the king,
made public the result of a visit to the royal captives, as shewing that
no undue luxury marked their prison-life. But still the charges and
insinuations continued. Newspaper paragraphs circulated the news that
Jumma Bukht, son or grandson of the king, was allowed to ride about the
streets of Delhi on an elephant, with an English colonel behind him; and
that indulgence was granted to men whose only desert was speedy hanging.
Captain (Major) Hodson himself made public a refutation of this charge,
shewing the absurd way in which a very trifling incident had been
magnified into a state proceeding. A military commission was appointed
to try such leaders of the mutiny as were captured in or near Delhi. By
sentence of this tribunal, twenty subordinate members of the royal
family were executed on the 18th of November. Shortly afterwards,
various chiefs of Goorgaon, Jhujjur, and Babulgurh were similarly put
upon their trial, and sentenced according to the strength of the
evidence brought against them.
[Illustration:
St James’s Church, Delhi.
]
The subject of prize-money remained for many weeks, or even months,
involved in much controversy in Delhi. Notwithstanding the ruin and
devastation, the amount of property recovered was very large, including
forfeitures declared against those who were convicted of treason. This
wealth reverted to the state, as a slight set-off for the vast expenses
incurred. Some of the officers and soldiers, however, fondly hoped that
it would be regarded as booty for the troops; and were thrown rather
into discontent by an announcement that the reward of the conquerors of
Delhi was to consist of six months’ ‘batta’ or pay. It was just one of
those questions on which much might be said on both sides. By a
subsequent arrangement, much of the personal property lately belonging
to the rebels was set apart, and treated as prize-money to be shared by
the soldiers engaged in the capture.
The leniency question, the prize-money question, and the paucity of
reward to the engineer officers engaged in the siege of Delhi, were
among many subjects made matter for controversy during the later weeks
of the year. But these we may pass over without further comment. Suffice
it to say that the reconquered city remained in British hands, and was
gradually brought under the control of the British authorities. As to
the aged king, preparations were made for subjecting him to a regular
trial, to be commenced shortly after the arrival of the new year.
Of the Punjaub, little need be said. Happily for British interests in
India, the same powerful mind continued to wield the destinies of the
remote province. Sir John Lawrence, watchful over everything that
occurred, not only maintained the Punjaub in quiet, but sent frequent
reinforcements to other provinces. During the summer and autumn, the
number of Sikh and Punjaubee regiments which he raised was something
marvellous. Occasionally some of the wild tribes exhibited signs of
insubordination; but they were met with such a determined front, and
they received so little sympathy from the mass of the people, that their
turbulence fell harmless. John Lawrence saved the Punjaub, and the
Punjaub saved British India.
In all the portion of the empire included within the Saugor territories,
Bundelcund, the Mahratta states, and Rajpootana, the months of November
and December differed from the previous months principally in this
circumstance—that the new mutinies were fewer, because the materials for
mutiny were becoming exhausted; but that the battles were more numerous,
because small armies were gradually being sent up from Madras and
Bombay.
In October and November, many military operations in the Mahratta and
Saugor countries were placed in doubt, so far as concerned the
comprehension of them in England, by a difference of only one letter in
the names of two commanders. The movements of Brigadier Steuart were
often attributed to Brigadier Stuart, and _vice versâ_. Steuart
commanded a column in the Deccan, which marched to Hosungabad, and then
across the Nerbudda to Sehore. His duty was to protect Saugor on the
right, Indore on the left, and Bhopal in the centre. By these movements,
Saugor and Jubbulpoor were rendered tolerably safe. Holkar, at Indore,
was sadly troubled by the mutinous feeling among his own troops. In
order to maintain British influence in that important quarter, the
Bombay government organised a new column, which, strengthened by other
troops, would form a Malwah Field Force, to be placed under the command
of Sir Hugh Rose; while Sir Robert Hamilton was ordered to resume his
old appointment as British resident at Holkar’s court.
Brigadier Stuart, portions of whose column were engaged in and near
Neemuch, Mundisore, Dhar, Mehidpore, Rampoora, and Kotah in October,
swept off many parties of rebels from the regions bordering on Malwah
and Rajpootana. Nevertheless the state of affairs remained very
unsettled. Many petty chieftains, incited by the numerical weakness of
the British, and by the unexpected stand made by rebels elsewhere,
appeared by tacit agreement to consider this the proper time to set up
as little kings on their own account, each relying on the services of
retainers who probably thought that something good might come to their
share in the scramble.
At a somewhat later date, when Stuart was in command of the Malwah Field
Force, before its name was changed to the ‘First Brigade of the Nerbudda
Field Force,’ he had a contest with the Mundisore rebels. Being joined
by a portion of the Hyderabad Contingent under Major Orr, Stuart
approached within three or four miles of Mundisore on the 21st of
November. This town is a few miles south of Neemuch, on the road to
Indore. The brigadier encamped until a good reconnaissance could be
effected. The rebel enemy at Mundisore, hearing of his approach, had
posted pickets entirely covering the country over which he was
advancing; they also mustered in some force outside the walls, and
appeared inclined to attack. In the afternoon he found that the enemy
were advancing in form, threatening his centre and both flanks at the
same time. They advanced steadily, in great numbers and with banners
flying: and he went forth to meet them. The struggle was a brief one.
Major Orr easily repulsed the enemy’s attack on the left flank; Captain
Orr and Lieutenant Dew checked that on the right; a few rounds of
artillery preserved the centre; and the enemy, giving way at all points,
retreated into the town. Brigadier Stuart had now another matter to
consider. He heard that a rebel army of 5000 men, employed in besieging
Neemuch, intended to raise the siege, and to join their companions at
Mundisore. This he resolved to prevent if possible by intercepting them.
Accordingly, early on the 22d, he marched to such a position as would
command the approaches to Mundisore; and later in the day his cavalry
were engaged with a party of rebel horse under Heera Singh—one of many
Rajpoot chieftains who took up arms at that disturbed period. Keeping a
sharp watch during the night, Stuart prepared on the morning of the 23d
to control the Neemuch and Mundisore road both from the north and the
south. The enemy appeared, and took up a strong position with their
right in and beyond the village of Goraria, their right centre covered
by a date nullah and lines of date-trees, their battery of six guns on
rising ground, with a large mud-hut protecting their gunners, and their
left stretched along the ridge running east from the village. The battle
that ensued was a very severe one. Stuart was obliged to recall a body
of infantry, who charged a village that seemed full of the enemy; the
rebels took possession of the houses, from which they kept up a very
galling fire. The British could doubtless have taken the village; but
the brigadier found his rear attacked by a second body of the enemy,
requiring a new distribution of his troops. The engagements of this day
resulted in a sort of drawn battle. On the 24th, the village was shelled
for three hours; and was then captured by H.M. 86th and a native
regiment, with considerable loss on both sides. During the ensuing night
the enemy evacuated Mundisore and the whole vicinity, dispersing in
flight throughout the country, after having lost at least fifteen
hundred men during the four days. The brigadier then moved his camp to
Mundisore, and made arrangements for dismantling the fort and destroying
the guns before leaving the neighbourhood. By this series of operations,
not only was Mundisore cleared of rebels, but Neemuch was relieved from
a force which pressed very threateningly upon it.
The siege of Neemuch must now be noticed. The small English garrison at
this station had for months been threatened by the Mundisore rebels; but
it was not until the 8th of November that a formidable attack was
actually made. A force of 5000 infantry, with three guns, advanced to
within two miles of the town; and as it was impossible to meet such
numbers in the open field, Captain Simpson prepared for the best defence
he could make within the fort. Intrenchments had been formed some time
before; but unfortunately they were too extensive to be effectively
defended by the few hands in the garrison; and they thus speedily became
occupied by the enemy. On the 9th, the enemy marched in full force into
the bazaar and cantonment, plundering wherever they went. They then
placed their guns at convenient distances, and began playing steadily
against the fort. This cannonading was continued for several days. The
rebels managed to build batteries for their guns in such positions that,
from the foliage and other obstacles, they were unobservable from the
walls of the fort. After about a fortnight of this battering, the rebels
resolved to attempt an escalade. They brought forward huge ladders on
wheels, affording room for four men abreast, and placed them against the
walls of the fort; but here they were met by such steady and continuous
volleys of musketry that not a man could enter. A Beloochee Mohammedan,
belonging to the 12th Bombay native infantry, doing duty in Neemuch,
performed an act of gallantry that won for him much and well-deserved
applause. One of the besiegers, in retreating from the withering
musketry-fire from the fort, dropped a splendid Mussulman green flag on
the ground. The Beloochee at once offered to capture this flag. Under
cover of a tremendous fire of musketry, he and a havildar were lowered
by a rope from one of the enclosures; quick as lightning the flag was
secured, and in a few minutes waved on the walls of Neemuch. The
movements of Brigadier Stuart, recorded in the last paragraph, now
disturbed the rebels; they departed, and Neemuch was for a time spared
further molestation.
This narrative may pass over without particular mention the other
regions of the vast empire of India. Disturbances there were in November
and December, but not of such grave importance as to call for record. At
Saugor and at Jubbulpore, the Europeans cried loudly for more troops,
but they were still able to defend themselves against actual attacks. At
Gwalior and at Bhopal, at Indore and at Mhow, although the vexations
were many, the continued fidelity of Scindia and Holkar lessened the
calamities that might otherwise have befallen the British. In Rajpootana
and Gujerat, petty chieftains would from time to time unfurl the flag of
rebellion, and collect a band of fighting retainers around them; but
these territories were within practicable reach of Bombay, whence
columns marched for the pacification of the upper country. Some portions
of the Nizam’s territory were occasionally troubled by insubordinate
troops belonging to the contingent; as the Nizam and his prime-minister,
however, remained firm in their alliance with the British, and as the
distance was very great to the turbulent regions of the Jumna, serious
danger was averted. In the South Mahratta country, around Kolapore,
Sholapore, Satara, and Poonah, indications once now and then appeared
that fanatic Mohammedans were ready to unfurl the green flag against the
infidel Feringhees; but the near vicinity of the presidential city of
Bombay, and the quiet demeanour of the natives further south, prevented
the intended conspiracies from becoming serious in magnitude. In the
Madras presidency, tranquillity was almost wholly undisturbed.
Thus ended the extraordinary year 1857—the most momentous that the
English had ever experienced in India.
Notes.
_Proposed Re-organisation of the Indian Army._—In closing the
narrative for the year 1857, it may be useful to advert to two
important subjects which occupied the attention of the East India
Company—the state of the army, and the causes of the mutiny. Instead
of rushing to conclusions on imperfect data, the Court of Directors
instructed the governor-general to appoint two commissions of
inquiry, empowered to collect information on those two subjects. The
letters of instruction were both dated the 25th of November; the
first ran as follows:
‘1. We trust that when success, by the blessing of Divine
Providence, shall have attended your efforts to put down the
mutiny of the native army of your presidency, and to re-establish
the authority of the government in the disturbed districts, you
will be enabled to take advantage of the services of select
officers of ability and experience, to assist you, by
investigation and by practical counsel founded thereon, in forming
wise conclusions on the most important subject which must soon
press for decision—namely, the proper organisation of our army in
India.
‘2. To this end we authorise you to appoint, as soon as
circumstances will permit, a commission, composed of military
officers of the armies of the three presidencies (with whom should
be associated officers of the Queen’s army who have had experience
of Indian service), on whose knowledge, experience, and judgment you
can rely; together with one or more civil servants, whom you may
consider to be specially qualified for such a duty by their
knowledge of the native character and general administrative
experience.
‘3. In framing instructions for the guidance of this commission, we
are desirous that the following heads of inquiry should be
specified, in addition to any others which you may consider to
deserve their attention:
‘1st, Should corps be raised each in a prescribed district, and be
recruited there, and there only?
‘2d, Should corps be composed of troops or companies, each of which
shall consist of separate tribes or castes; or should the tribes or
castes be mixed up together in the whole regiment?
‘3d, Should a company or companies of Europeans form a component
part of a native regiment?
‘4th, What alterations should be made in your recruiting regulations
relating to tribes and castes, with a view to determine the future
composition of the native army?
‘5th, Will it be expedient to enlist natives of other tropical
countries, equally qualified for service in India, with the natives
of the country; and if so, should they be formed in separate
regiments, or in companies, or otherwise?
‘6th, Whether, in native infantry regiments, the discontinuance of
the grades of native commissioned officers, and the substitution of
a European sergeant and corporal to each company, is advisable; and
if so, whether, in lieu of the prospect of distinction and emolument
arising out of these grades, it would be advisable to establish
graduated scales of good-service pay and retiring pensions,
claimable after specified periods of service?
‘7th, Whether the system of promotion generally, by seniority, to
the grades of native commissioned officers (if these are retained),
should not be altered and assimilated to the systems in force at
Madras and Bombay?
‘8th, If separate corps are to be maintained for military and police
purposes, what will be the best organisation for each branch
respectively?
‘9th, Have the powers of commanding officers of native corps, and
the powers of officers in charge of companies, been diminished? What
consequences have been the result? Is it desirable that those powers
should be increased, or what other measures should be adopted for
the improvement of discipline?
‘10th, Should cadets be trained and drilled in European regiments
before they are posted to native regiments; or what would be the
best mode of drilling and training cadets before they are posted to
native regiments?
‘11th, Should the special rules regulating punishment in the native
army be retained; or should they be assimilated to the rules which
obtain in the British army; or ought there to be any, and what,
changes in those rules, or in the system of punishment?
‘12th, How can the demands for European officers for staff and
detached employments be best provided for, without injuring the
efficiency of regiments?
‘4. It is to be understood that the inquiries to be made by the
commission, and the opinions to be offered by them, are to have
reference to the several branches of the native army—infantry,
regular and irregular; cavalry, regular and irregular; artillery,
and Sappers and Miners; and, with respect to the artillery, and
Sappers and Miners, whether they should be composed, as heretofore,
of Europeans and natives, or be entirely European?
‘5. To aid your government in forming an opinion as to the
proportion which the European should bear to the native portion of
the army in India generally, and at each presidency separately, we
would recommend that your government should call upon the commission
to give their opinions on this very important question; and we can
entertain no doubt that the enlarged knowledge and experience of the
members of the Commission will enable them to furnish you with
valuable information on this head.
‘6. Having obtained opinions on all these heads of inquiry, and on
such other heads as you may deem to be essential to the thorough
development of the important questions at issue, you will refer
the views of the commission for the consideration of the
commander-in-chief, and will then furnish us with the results of
your careful deliberation upon the whole of the measures which
should, in your judgment, be taken for the organisation and
maintenance, in the utmost practicable state of efficiency, of
whatever military force you may think it desirable to form.
‘7. The commission itself may be instructed to make to the
governor-general in council any suggestions or recommendations which
occur to them, although not on matters comprised in the specified
heads of inquiry.’
_Proposed Inquiry into the Causes of the Mutiny._—The second letter
adverted to above was in the following terms:
‘1. Although we are well aware that, from the period when the mutiny
of the Bengal army assumed a formidable aspect, your time must
necessarily have been too much engrossed by the pressing exigencies
of the public-service during each passing day, and in taking
provident measures for the future, to admit of your directing much
of your attention to past events, we have no doubt that you have not
omitted to take advantage of all the means and opportunities at your
command for the important purpose of investigating the causes of the
extraordinary disaffection in the ranks of that army, which has,
unhappily, given rise to so much bloodshed and misery.
‘2. In this persuasion, and as a review of the voluminous records
containing the details of the events which have occurred since the
first display of disaffection at Barrackpore, has entirely failed to
satisfy our minds in regard to the immediate causes of the mutiny,
we desire that you will lose no time in reporting to us your
opinions on the subject, embracing the following heads, together
with any others which you may deem it necessary to add, in order to
the full elucidation of the subject:
‘1st, The state of feeling of the sepoy towards the government for
some time preceding the outbreak.
‘2d, Any causes which of late years may be thought likely to have
affected their loyalty and devotion to the service.
‘3d, Whether their loyalty had been affected by the instigations of
emissaries of foreign powers, or native states, or by any general
measures of our administration affecting themselves or any other
classes of our subjects?
‘4th, Whether the proposed use of the new cartridges was to any, and
what, extent the cause of the outbreak?
‘5th, Whether the objects which the mutineers are supposed to have
had in view were directed to the subversion of the British power in
India, or to the attainment of pecuniary or other advantages?
‘6th, Whether the progress of the mutiny can be traced to general
combination or concert, or was the result of separate impulses at
the several stations of regiments; and, if the former, how the
combination was carried on without any knowledge or suspicion of it
on the part of the regimental officers?
‘3. If, however, you should not feel yourselves to be in possession
of information sufficient to form a well-grounded opinion upon the
causes and objects of the mutiny, we authorise you to appoint a
special mixed commission for a preliminary investigation into the
same, to be composed of officers selected from all branches of the
services of India, in whose personal experience and soundness of
judgment you have entire confidence. In that case, you will lose no
time in reporting to us your sentiments upon the conclusions arrived
at by the commission.’
[Illustration]
-----
Footnote 124:
Chap. xvii., pp. 277-294; chap. xx., pp. 338-358.
Footnote 125:
See p. 103.
Footnote 126:
Chap. xxi., p. 369.
Footnote 127:
‘We marched off under the guidance of a native, who said he would take
us to the spot where the gun lay. We told him he should be well
rewarded if he brought us to the gun, but if he brought us into a
trap, we had a soldier by him “at full cock” ready to blow his brains
out. We passed our outside pickets, and entered the town through very
narrow streets without a single nigger being seen, or a shot fired on
either side. We crept along; not a soul spoke a word, all was still as
death; and after marching in this way into the very heart of the town,
our guide brought us to the very spot into which the gun was capsized.
The soldiers were posted on each side, and then we went to work. Not a
man spoke above his breath, and each stone was laid down quietly. When
we thought we had cleared enough, I ordered the men to put their
shoulders to the wheel and gun, and when all was ready, and every man
had his pound before him, I said “Heave!” and up she righted. We then
limbered up, called the soldiers to follow, and we marched into the
intrenchments with our gun without a shot being fired. When we got in,
the colonel returned us his best thanks, and gave us all an extra
ration of grog; we then returned to our guns in the battery.’
Footnote 128:
The regiments or portions of regiments—made up into four brigades of
infantry, one of cavalry, one of artillery, and one of engineers—were
the following: H.M. 8th, 23d, 32d, 38th, 42d, 53d, 64th, 82d, and 93d
foot; Rifle Brigade; 2d and 4th Punjaub infantry; H.M. 9th Lancers;
1st, 2d, and 5th Punjaub cavalry; Hodson’s Horse; horse-artillery;
light field-battery; heavy field-battery; Naval brigade; Queen’s and
Company’s Engineers; Sappers and Miners.
Footnote 129:
42d Highlanders, 403
53d foot, 413
93d Highlanders, 806
4th Punjaub rifles, 332
9th Lancers, 327
5th Punjaub cavalry, 85
Hodson’s Horse, 109
Horse-artillery, 83
Foot-artillery, 139
Sappers, 100
Footnote 130:
P. 356
[Illustration:
COLONEL E. H. GREATHED.
]
CHAPTER XXIII.
A SECOND YEAR OF REBELLION.
When, at the opening of 1858, the stirring events of the preceding year
came to be passed in review, most men admitted that the progress of the
Indian Revolt had outrun their expectations and falsified their hopes.
Some had believed that the fall of Delhi would occur after a few days of
besieging, bringing with it a pacification of the whole country. Some,
allowing that this capture might very probably be retarded several
weeks, did not the less look to a general pacification as a natural
result. Others, relying on the heroic Havelock and the energetic Neill,
prepared to date the termination of the rebellion from the expected
capture of Lucknow. Others, recognising Sir Colin Campbell as ‘the right
man in the right place,’ strengthened themselves in the belief that he
would march at once from Calcutta to Cawnpore, and put down all the
rebels before the summer was well over. Some believed that the sepoys,
lamenting the ill success of their treachery to the British government,
would return to their allegiance without inoculating other portions of
the Indian community with the virus of lawlessness. Others had fondly
hoped that, under the pressure of public opinion in England, such large
numbers of fine troops would have been sent over in the summer and
autumn, as would suffice to quell the mutiny even though the sepoys
remained obstinate.
All these hopes were dashed. The gloomy prophets, on this occasion, were
in the ascendant. The mutiny had spread to almost every native regiment
in the Bengal army. It had been accompanied by an unexpected display of
military organisation among the revolted sepoys. It had incited many
ambitious chieftains to try their chance for an increase of power. It
had been encouraged and extended by the long delay in the conquest of
Delhi. It had further received a certain glow of triumph from the
extraordinary events at Lucknow, which left the rebels perfect masters
of the city at the end of the year. It had been permitted to grow to
unwonted magnitude by the extreme slowness with which British troops
arrived at Indian ports. Lastly, it had become surrounded by very
un-English attributes, in the savage feeling of vengeance engendered in
the minds of English officers and soldiers by the sepoy atrocities.
It is true that Englishmen had much to be proud of, in the achievements
of their countrymen during the past year. They could point to the
sagacity of Sir Henry Lawrence, in quietly fortifying and provisioning
the Residency at Lucknow at a time when less acute observers saw no
storm in the distance. They could admire, and wonder while they admired,
the heroism with which Sir Hugh Wheeler and his companions had so long
maintained a wretchedly weak position against a large army of mutineers
headed by an arch-traitor. They could follow with delight the footsteps
of Sir Henry Havelock, winning victory after victory over forces five or
ten times as strong as his own. They could shew how, in a hot climate,
Neill had advanced from the east and Nicholson from the west, fighting
energetically against all obstacles, and dying like true soldiers at the
head of their columns. They could ask the world whether a garrison was
ever more nobly defended, under circumstances of trying difficulty, than
the Residency under Inglis; and whether a garrison was ever brought away
from the middle of a hostile city under more extraordinary conditions,
and with more complete success, than was achieved in the ‘Exodus from
Lucknow’ under Campbell, Outram, and Havelock. They could point to Sir
John Lawrence for an example of what a civilian could do, maintaining a
large and recently conquered country at peace by the energy of his own
individual character, raising regiment after regiment of trustworthy
native troops, and sending an army to reconquer Delhi before a single
additional soldier could arrive from England. They could point to the
exertions of numerous individuals, any one of whom would have been a
hero if his heroism had not been eclipsed by that of men better known to
fame.
These recollections afforded some consolation under the disappointment
occasioned by the long continuance of the war waged by the mutineers.
Yet were they far from being an adequate reward for the blood and
treasure expended; the prevailing natural feeling was one of
disappointment. Nor were theorists less at fault in their estimate of
causes, than practical men in their expectation of results. Still was
the question put, ‘What was the cause of the mutiny?’ And still were the
answers as diverse as ever. From May to December the theories multiplied
faster than the means of solving them. On the religious side, men banded
themselves chiefly into two parties. One said that the native troops in
India had revolted because we, as a nation, had tampered with their
religion. We had nearly put down infanticide and suttee; we paid less
respect than formerly to their idols and holy places; we had allowed
pious officers to preach to the sepoys in their regiments, and
missionaries to inveigh against brahmins and temples; and we so clumsily
managed a new contrivance in the fabrication and use of cartridges, as
to induce a suspicion in the native mind that a personal insult to their
religious prejudices was intended. On the other hand, religious
Christians contended that the revolt was a mark of God’s anger against
the English nation. They urged that a people possessing the Bible ought
long ago, by government as well as by individual efforts, to have
distributed it throughout the length and breadth of India; that we ought
to have encouraged churches and chapels, ministers and missionaries,
Bible-classes and Scripture-readers; that we ought to have disregarded
caste prejudices, and boldly proclaimed that Hindooism and Moslemism
were worse than mockeries, and that no expectations of happiness in this
life or the next were sound but such as rested on Biblical grounds—in
short, that England had had a magnificent opportunity, and a deep
obligation, to teach with all her power the way of salvation to two
hundred million benighted beings; and that, failing this, the Revolt had
been a consequent and deserved calamity. Another class of reasoners
attributed the outbreak to the want of sympathy between the Europeans
and the natives in the general relations of life. A young man was sent
out to India by the Company, either as a writer in the civil service or
as a cadet in the army; he learned the immediate duties of his office,
studied just so much of the vernacular languages and customs as were
absolutely needed, rose in the middle years of his life to higher
offices and emoluments, and returned to end his days in England. He held
the natives in contempt; he neither knew nor cared what passed in their
inmost hearts; he treated India as a conquered country, held especially
for the benefit of the Company’s servants. Hence, according to the view
now under notice, the natives, having nothing for which to love and
respect the British, were glad to avail themselves of any pretext to
expel the foreign element from their land. Military men, acquainted with
the Bombay and Madras armies, insisted that the mutiny had arisen from
the organisation of that of Bengal; in which the Brahmin sepoys and
Rajpoot sowars had been so pampered and petted, that they began to deem
themselves masters instead of subjects, and to aim at a sort of military
despotism on their own account. Other speculators, pointing to the fact
that Mohammedans have in all ages been intensely fanatical, regarded the
mutiny as only one among many indications of an attempt to revive the
past glories of the Moguls, when the followers of Mahomet were the
rulers in India. Others again, keeping clear of the larger questions of
creed and race, attributed the troubles to the policy of annexation,
which had been pursued to so extraordinary a degree in recent years.
These reasoners urged that, whatever may have been the faults and
follies of the King of Oude, five million natives unquestionably looked
up to him as their sovereign, and felt their prejudices shocked and
their alarm excited, when, in 1856, he was rudely hurled from his
throne, and made a pensioner dependent on a company of merchants.
Another class of theorists, impressed with a horror of taxation, pitied
the poor Hindoos who had to pay so much to the Company for permission to
live on the soil, so much for the salt monopoly, so much for other dues;
and sought to find a reason for the mutiny in the desire to throw off
these imposts. Commercial men, estimating nations and countries by a
standard familiar to themselves, had long complained that the Company
did not encourage independent commerce in India; and now they said: ‘If
you had acted with English good sense, the revolt would never have
occurred. Afford facilities for the construction of railways, canals,
and docks; build ships and steamers; develop your mineral wealth in coal
and iron; sell or let plots of land to men who will bring English
experience and English machinery to bear on its cultivation; grow tea
and coffee, sugar and cocoa, timber and fruits, cotton and flax, corn
and pulse, on the soils favourable to the respective produce—do all
this, or afford facilities for others to do it, and the natives of India
will then have something more profitable to think of than mutiny and
bloodshed.’
We point to these various theories for the purpose of remarking, that
the controversies relating to them were as warmly conducted at the end
of the year as when the news of the cartridge troubles first reached
England. The higher the position, the more extensive the experience, of
public men, the more chary were they in committing themselves to any
special modes of explanation; it was by those who knew little, that the
boldest assertions were hazarded. An opinion was gradually growing up
among cautious reasoners, that the revolt must have been the composite
resultant of many co-ordinate or coexistent causes, each of which
contributed towards it in a particular way; but such reasoners would
necessarily perceive that a true solution could only be arrived at when
all the separate items were known, and properly estimated. Hence the
authorities, both in England and in India, recommended and followed a
plan that may thus be enunciated—first suppress the mutiny; then collect
gradually evidence of its various predisposing causes; and, finally,
make use of that evidence in remodelling the institutions of British
India on a firmer basis. The NOTES at the end of the last chapter shewed
that the Company took the common-sense view, of inquiring into the
probable causes of the mutiny before planning the reorganisation of
Indian affairs. The candid acknowledgment by the Directors, that the
voluminous documents hitherto produced had ‘entirely failed to satisfy
their minds in regard to the immediate causes of the mutiny,’ was full
of significance, and, it may be added, of caution to others.
So far as concerns the present Chronicle, the treatment will necessarily
be affected by the character of the struggle. At the beginning of 1858,
scarcely any symptoms of further mutiny were presented. The Bengal army
was gone, scattered in anarchy; the armies of Bombay, Madras, and the
Punjaub, were almost wholly sound; and the daily events consisted mainly
of military operations against the revolted sepoy regiments of the
Bengal army, and against such chieftains as had brought their retainers
into the field for selfish purposes. Hence the narrative may march on
more rapidly than before.
All the interest of the military operations in India, at the opening of
the new year, grouped itself around the commander-in-chief. Slow as had
been the arrival of British troops in India, during the months when
Wheeler, Havelock, Neill, Outram, Inglis, Barnard, Wilson, and Nicholson
were struggling against difficulties, the disembarkations were very
numerous in November and December. When the old year gave place to the
new, it was estimated that 23,000 British troops had landed at Calcutta
since the troubles began, besides others put on shore at Bombay, Madras,
and Kurachee.[131] They had advanced into the upper provinces, by those
routes and modes which have so often been adverted to, and were placed
under the brigadiers whom Sir Colin Campbell had appointed to conduct
the various operations planned by him. We have first, therefore, to
notice such of the proceedings of the commander-in-chief as took place
during the month of January; turning attention afterwards to military
proceedings in other quarters.
Sir Colin Campbell, as the last chapter shewed, rescued Cawnpore and
General Windham from trouble at the close of November and the beginning
of the following month. He did not move from the vicinity of that city
till towards the end of December. Writing to Viscount Canning on this
subject, on the 6th of January, he said: ‘I am informed by the civil
authorities that my protracted stay at Cawnpore was of much benefit; and
I am convinced that, apart from any immediate military object, it is
necessary, for the re-establishment of authority, that the march of the
troops should be deliberate. Time is thus afforded to the magistrates
and special commissioners to visit rebellious towns and villages, and
again display to the people in unmistakable manner the resolution of
your lordship’s government to visit punishment on all those who during
the last few months have set aside their allegiance.’ He at the same
time glanced rapidly at the chief military operations which had marked
the month of December in the Gangetic and Jumna regions—such as Outram’s
defence at the Alum Bagh; Adrian Hope’s clean sweep of Nena Sahib’s
property at Bithoor;[132] Walpole’s expedition to Etawah and Minpooree;
Seaton’s energetic movements with a column from Delhi; and Windham’s
expedition to Futtiah.
When the vehicles had returned to Cawnpore, after conveying the Lucknow
fugitives to Allahabad, the commander-in-chief prepared to move his
head-quarters to Furruckabad and Fort Futteghur, near which places many
insurgent chieftains required to be dealt with. He started on the 24th
of December and marched to Chowrepore. After remaining there some time
to organise his force into brigades, &c., he renewed his march on the
28th, and reached Meerun-ke-Serai. At the several halting-places of
himself and his brigadiers, he made arrangements for destroying the
country-boats on the Ganges, in order to prevent molestation of the Doab
from the Oude side of the river when the troops should have moved on. On
the 31st he arrived at Goorsaigunje; Greathed, Windham, and Hope Grant
all being with him. On the first day of the new year, Sir Colin sent
forth two regiments under Adrian Hope to secure the iron
suspension-bridge over the Kallee Nuddee, a very important point on the
road from Cawnpore to Futteghur. A party of sailors were quite delighted
to assist in this work, replacing with ropes some of the ironwork which
the rebels had begun to destroy. On the 2d the enemy, hovering in
villages near the bridge, attacked Sir Colin’s pickets and advanced
columns; but they were speedily defeated and driven across the Ganges
into Rohilcund.[133] Proof was here afforded that the insurgents had not
forgotten the advantages of organisation. ‘The rebels,’ said the
commander-in-chief in his dispatch, ‘who were dispersed on this
occasion, consisted of three or four battalions of the 41st and other
corps of native infantry. In the 41st, the rebels had begun with much
system to organise a second battalion, their recruits being dressed in a
neat uniform.’ On the 3d, Sir Colin reached Futteghur, the old British
station near the city of Furruckabad. Fortunately, the enemy, who had
held Futteghur for at least six months, now retreated so precipitately
that they had not time to destroy the government property within the
place. Sir Colin found a large amount of stores of the most valuable
description, belonging to the gun and clothing agencies. Having secured
these important items of military property, he sent a large stock of
grain to Cawnpore, to lighten the labours of the commissariat for the
supply of Sir James Outram at the Alum Bagh. The Nawab of Furruckabad
had long been among the most ferocious leaders of the insurgents; and
the commander-in-chief now proceeded to such measures as would punish
him severely for his treachery. ‘The destruction of the Nawab’s palaces
is in process. I think it right that not a stone should be left unturned
in all the residences of the rebellious chiefs. They are far more guilty
than their misguided followers.’
On the 6th of January, then, the commander-in-chief was on the banks of
the Ganges at Futteghur. With him were the brigades and columns of Hope
Grant, Adrian Hope, Walpole, Windham, Seaton, Greathed, and Little;
Inglis, with a movable column, was restoring order in a part of the Doab
between Cawnpore and Etawah; while Outram was still at the Alum Bagh.
Sir Colin scarcely moved from that spot during the remainder of the
month. He was waiting for more troops from Calcutta, and for vast stores
of warlike material from the upper provinces. It may here be remarked
that the enormous weight of stores and ammunition required for an army,
and the vast distances to be traversed in India, gave a stupendous
character to some of the convoys occasionally prepared. Thus, on the 22d
of January, about 3000 troops started from Agra for the Cawnpore
regions, having in charge 19 guns of various calibre, and 1500 carts
laden with stores and ammunition. There were 750 rounds of ammunition
for each of 24 guns, and 500 for each of 44 howitzers and mortars—all
required by the commander-in-chief. Several ladies, _en route_ to
Calcutta, took advantage of the protection of this force. The above
numbers give a very imperfect idea of the convoy; for native servants
and camp-followers, together with animals of draught and burden, always
accompany such a train in swarms almost inconceivable.
When the English public found that the whole of the autumn months, and
the winter so far as the end of January, had passed away without any
great achievement except the relief of Lucknow, portions of them began
to complain and to censure. They could not and would not find fault with
Sir Colin, because he was a general favourite; and therefore they rushed
to a conclusion inimical to Viscount Canning, who from the first had
been made to bear the burden of a vast amount of anonymous abuse. A
story arose that the governor-general and the commander-in-chief were at
‘cross-purposes,’ that Campbell was doing nothing because Canning
thwarted him. The Duke of Cambridge and Lord Panmure took occasion, in
the House of Lords, to give authoritative contradictions to these
rumours; and among other evidence adduced was a letter written by Sir
Colin to his royal highness—the one as commander-in-chief in India, the
other as commander-in-chief of all the Queen’s forces generally—just
when he was about to set off to head the military operations at Cawnpore
and Lucknow. ‘Now that I am on the point of leaving Calcutta,’ he said,
‘I would beg, with the greatest respect to the governor-general, to
record the deep sense of the obligation I entertain towards his
lordship. Our intercourse has been most cordial, intimate, and
unreserved. I cannot be sufficiently thankful for his lordship’s
confidence and support, and the kindly manner in which they have been
afforded, to my great personal satisfaction. One at a distance, and
unacquainted with the ordinary mode of transacting business in this
country, could hardly estimate the gain to the public service which has
thus been made. But I allude principally to my own feelings of
gratification.’ Whether or not the governor-general and the
commander-in-chief were divided in opinion touching the best policy to
pursue, it is certain that men in lower though influential positions
differed widely in their views on this point. Some were anxious that
Lucknow should be attacked at once. They urged that that city being the
chief seat of rebellion, a crushing of the force there would dishearten
the rebels elsewhere; whereas every day lost would add to the strength
of Lucknow. Even our victories increased the number and desperation of
its defenders; and, therefore, till this central point was captured, the
revolt would always have a nucleus, a flag around which the discontented
might rally. On the other hand, it was urged that Rohilcund should be
cleared before Lucknow could be profitably seized. Large bands still
roaming over that province might interrupt the commander-in-chief’s
communications, if he left them in his rear while engaged in Oude.
Again, Sir Colin was waiting for more troops. It was asserted that, even
if he could conquer sixty or eighty thousand fighting-men in the streets
of Lucknow, he could not leave a force there while he was endeavouring
to clear out Rohilcund. So far as can be judged from attainable
evidence, it appears that Sir Colin himself held this second
opinion—resolving to clear the outworks before attacking the central
stronghold of rebellion.
Leaving the commander-in-chief for a while, we may suitably direct
attention to the proceedings of other generals in other parts of the
wide field of operations—beginning with those connected with Sir James
Outram.
The Alum Bagh, never once out of English hands since the month of
September, remained a very important stronghold. The reader will perhaps
recall to mind the relation which that fort bore to the operations at
Lucknow; but a short recapitulation may not be misplaced here. When
Havelock and Outram, on the 25th of September, advanced to Lucknow, they
left Colonel M’Intyre, of the 78th Highlanders, in command at the Alum
Bagh, with orders to maintain that post until further instructions
reached him. He had with him 280 English soldiers of various regiments,
a few Sikhs, 4 guns, 128 sick and wounded, between 4000 and 5000 native
camp-followers, large numbers of cattle, and a valuable store of
baggage, ammunition, and other military appliances. His supply of food
for the natives was very scanty, and those poor creatures soon suffered
terribly from hunger. After a few days, they stealthily collected crops
of rice and grain in fields near at hand, under protection of the guns;
but this resource was soon exhausted. It is a familiar occurrence in the
annals of Indian warfare, that the camp-followers and army-servants
exceed by five or ten fold the number of actual combatants; and thus is
to be explained the strange composition of the miscellaneous body
collected within the walls of the Alum Bagh. Unable to receive aid or
even instructions from the Residency, M’Intyre maintained his position
as best he could. A convoy of provisions reached him from Cawnpore on
the 7th of October, under Major Bingham, and another on the 25th under
Major Barnston. Some of the troops remained with him on each occasion,
raising his force altogether to 900 fighting-men and ten guns. Meanwhile
he fortified his position with bastions and other defence-works, and
contended successfully against the enemy, who constructed five batteries
in various parts of the exterior, and brought artillery-fire to bear
against him day after day. They also held the neighbouring fort of
Jelalabad, which formed a sixth base of attack. So steadily and
actively, however, did the colonel maintain his defence, that the
enemy’s fire occasioned him very little loss. Matters continued thus
until the middle of November, when Sir Colin Campbell, conquering
Jelalabad, and reaching Alum Bagh, made a few changes in the garrison.
Then, in the last week of the month, Sir James Outram became master of
the Alum Bagh, with a picked force of 3000 to 4000 men. He easily
maintained his position throughout December, and gave the enemy a severe
defeat on the 22d, at a place called Giulee, three miles from Alum Bagh
on the Dil Koosha road. The opening of the year 1858 found Outram still
at his post, and the enemy still endeavouring or hoping to cut off his
communications and starve him out.[134] Some of his troops were away,
convoying a supply of provisions from Cawnpore; and the enemy, knowing
this, resolved to attack him on the 12th of January in his weakened
state. Fathoming their intentions, he prepared for defence. At sunrise
they appeared, to the immense number of at least 30,000, and formed a
wide semicircle in front and flank of his position. Outram, massing his
troops into two brigades, sent them out to confront the enemy. Then
commenced a very fierce battle; for while the main body of the enemy
attacked these two brigades, a second proceeded to assault the fort of
Jelalabad, while a third by a detour reached the Alum Bagh itself, and
endeavoured to cut off Outram’s communications with it. From sunrise
till four o’clock in the afternoon did the struggle continue, every
British gun being incessantly engaged in repelling the advances of dense
masses of the enemy. Foiled at every point, the insurgents at length
withdrew to the city or to their original positions in the gardens and
villages. It was a very serious struggle, for the enemy fought well and
were in overwhelming numbers; nevertheless, their discomfiture was
complete. Four days afterwards they made another attack, in smaller
numbers, but with greater boldness: the result was the same as
before—complete defeat and severe loss. Thus did this skilful and
watchful commander frustrate every hostile attempt made by the swarms of
insurgents who surrounded him.
We turn our attention next further eastward. The Nepaulese leader, Jung
Bahadoor, with Brigadier MacGregor as representative of British
interests, entered Goruckpore on the 6th of January, thus taking
possession of a city which for many months had been almost entirely in
the hands of rebels. The force was Goorkha, the officers were Nepaulese
and English. Jung Bahadoor and Brigadier MacGregor being the two
leaders, the brigades were thus commanded—the first by Run Singh and
Captain Plowden, the second by Sunmuck Singh and Captain Edmonstone, the
third by Junga Doge and Lieutenant Foote, and the artillery by Loll
Singh and Major Fitzgerald. This singular combination was made because,
although Jung Bahadoor was entitled to appoint his own native officers,
it was nevertheless desirable that English officers should be at hand to
advise or even control if necessary. The advancing force had first to
effect a passage over a nullah, the bridge of which was broken, and the
banks stoutly defended by the enemy; this was done after a short but
sharp conflict. The enemy fled from the nullah through a jungle towards
the city, pursued by the Goorkhas; but the latter could not equal the
sepoys in running over loose sand, and therefore could not come up with
them. All the baggage having crossed the nullah, Jung Bahadoor steadily
advanced towards the city, attacked by new parties of the enemy in
skirmishing form on both flanks. Many hundreds of the rebels rushed into
the river Ribtee, to effect a safe crossing to the other side, adjacent
to the Oude frontier; but they were shot down or drowned in considerable
numbers in this attempt to escape. Goruckpore was entered, and taken
possession of in the English name. It is curious to trace, in the
military dispatch of Brigadier MacGregor to the Calcutta authorities,
the same conventional ‘mention’ of Nepaulese officers as is customary in
the British army. Colonel Loll Singh ‘proved himself a good artillery
officer;’ Captain Suzan Singh’s ‘very effective fire was much admired;’
Brigadier Junga Doge ‘reaped, conjointly with the artillery, the
principal honours of the day;’ Brigadier Sunmuck Singh’s brigade ‘was
well in advance;’ Brigadier Run Singh’s brigade ‘was most skilfully led
through the forest;’ and Brigadier Jodh Adhikaree was only shut out from
praise by the fact that his brigade was not brought into action. The
names of the British officers were set forth in parallel order, each to
receive praise by the side of his Nepaulese companion. The English
commander of a military force, we may here remark, must often be
embarrassed while writing his dispatches; for unless he mentions the
name of almost every officer, he gives offence; while it taxes his
powers of composition to vary the terms in which encomiums are
expressed. When Goruckpore was once again placed under British control,
the authorities quickly put down the so-called government which had been
introduced by Mahomed Hussein, the self-appointed nazim or chief. Such
of his adherents as had clearly been rebellious were quickly tried, and
many of them executed. All the convicted natives who were not sentenced
to hanging were made to do sweeper’s work, within the church, jail, and
other buildings, without respect to their caste, creed, or former
dignity. Mushurruff Khan, and other rebellious leaders in the district
between Goruckpore and the Oude frontier, were one by one captured, to
the manifest pacification of the country villages and planters’ estates.
In the wide stretch of country between Patna and Allahabad, and between
the Ganges on the south and Nepaul on the north, everything was awaiting
the completion of the commander-in-chief’s plans. In and near Arrah,
Azimghur, Ghazeepore, Jounpoor, Benares, and Mirzapore, there were
bodies of malcontents ready to break out into open rebellion as soon as
any favourable opportunities should occur for so doing, but checked by
the gradually increasing power of the British. On one occasion, towards
the close of the month, Brigadier Franks marched out of Secundra, near
Allahabad, against a body of 500 rebels, who were posted with several
guns at Nussunpore. He totally defeated them, and captured two of their
guns. About the same time, on the 22d of the month, Colonel Rowcroft,
with detachments of H.M. 10th foot, sailors, Sikhs, and Goorkhas,
proceeded from Azimghur towards the Oudian frontier, there to aid in
hemming in the rebels. Indeed, Jung Bahadoor, Franks, and Rowcroft, at
the end of the month, feeling that all was pretty secure on the east of
the frontier, were gradually drawing a cordon round the Oudians, from
Nepaul in the north to the Ganges on the south—ready to concur in any
large scheme of operations which Sir Colin Campbell might be enabled to
initiate.
The brigadiers who were more immediately under the eye of Sir Colin
Campbell were employed during the month of January, as has already been
implied, in clearing away bands of insurgents in the Doab and
neighbouring districts. To detail the various minor contests will be
unnecessary; one or two will suffice as samples of all. On the 27th of
the month, Brigadier Adrian Hope had a smart contest with the enemy at
Shumshabad. Taking with him a small column,[135] he started from
Futteghur on the previous day, and proceeded through Kooshinabad to
Shumshabad, where he found the enemy in considerable force. They
occupied a commanding knoll on the edge of the plateau overlooking the
plain stretching towards the river. On the knoll was a Mussulman tomb,
surrounded by the remains of an old intrenchment, upon which they had
raised a sand-bag battery; their front was defended by a ravine
impassable for cavalry or guns. Hope, having formed his plan of attack,
moved over some broken ground towards the enemy’s camp. They at once
opened with a well-directed fire of round-shot. Silencing these guns by
a flank fire, Hope ordered his infantry to advance out of a hollow where
they had been screened; they did so, rushed upon the camp, and captured
it. Then began a pursuit of the fleeing enemy by Hope’s cavalry, and the
securing of several guns and much ammunition which they had left behind
them. The brigadier believed the insurgents to consist of two of the
mutinied Bareilly regiments, accompanied by a motley group of rebels
anxious for plunder. About the same day, another district near
Furruckabad became the scene of a fierce encounter. A body of rebels
about 5000 strong, with four guns, being heard of at a distance of some
miles from the city, a force was sent out—consisting of H.M. 42d and 53d
foot, the 4th Punjaubees, two squadrons of H.M. 9th Lancers, two of
Hodson’s Horse, a horse-battery, and two troops of horse-artillery. The
enemy’s guns were planted on the site of an old mud-fort on rising
ground, whence they opened fire as soon as the British came in sight.
The morning being densely foggy, the column proceeded cautiously to
prevent a surprise. The action that ensued was chiefly carried on by
artillery and cavalry, and was marked by several deaths on the side of
the British owing to the blowing up of tumbrils. Among the wounded was
the gallant Hodson, whose name had become so well known in connection
with an active and useful body of Punjaub or Sikh irregular cavalry. The
result of this, as of almost all similar contests, was the defeat and
dispersion of the enemy. A glance at a map will shew that at Furruckabad
and Futteghur (the latter a military station near the former), the
commander-in-chief was in an admirable position to send out detachments
on special service. Bareilly, Allygurh, Agra, Muttra, Minpooree,
Gwalior, Etawah, Calpee, Cawnpore, and Lucknow, formed an irregular
circle of which Furruckabad was the centre.
On the first day of the year the little colony at Nynee Tal received one
of the alarms to which it had been so often subjected for six months;
but, as in all the other instances, the danger was promptly averted. The
subsidiary station at Huldwanee, eighteen miles distant, was attacked
early in the morning by a large number of the Bareilly rebels. Some time
previously, a force of about 600 Goorkhas had been sent to that station;
but owing to the absence of the commandant at Almora, and to the neglect
in making any defensive arrangements, the place was not well prepared to
resist a surprise. The enemy opened an artillery fire most unexpectedly,
for their approach was not in the least anticipated. The gallant little
Goorkhas, however, speedily turned out, met the enemy hand to hand,
defeated them, pursued them three or four miles from the station, and
cut down a considerable number of them.
Of the two imperial or once imperial cities, Agra and Delhi, little need
be said in connection with the events of January. Agra, it will be
remembered, was never out of British hands during the turmoils of 1857,
although severely pressed; and when Delhi on the one side, and Cawnpore
on the other, were recovered, there was less chance than ever that Agra
would fall into the hands of the enemy. The citizens resumed their
ordinary employments, and the British authorities re-established their
civil control.[136]
After four months of strict military occupancy, the city of Delhi was
thrown open to natives who during that interval had been excluded. On
the 18th of January an order to this intent came into operation. Each
person availing himself of it had to pay one rupee four annas to the
kotwallee or police authority; for this he was provided with a ticket,
which insured him certain facilities for living and trading within the
city. The Chandnee Chowk began to resume its former lively appearance; a
military band resumed its evening music in the open space fronting the
English church; and, ‘but for the shot-holes all around,’ as an
eye-witness observed, ‘the signs of many sanguinary months were passing
away.’ A formal charge was drawn up, and judicial proceedings commenced,
against the imprisoned king; but as the trial chiefly took place in
February, we may defer for a few pages any notice of the proceedings.
Everything westward of Delhi may happily be dismissed in the same
language which has so often sufficed in former chapters. Sir John
Lawrence, with his able coadjutors Montgomery, Cotton, and Edwardes,
still held the whole length and breadth of the Punjaub at peace or
nearly so. And the same may in like manner be said of Sinde, where Mr
Frere and General Jacob held sway.
Of the state of the widely scattered and diversely governed regions of
Central India and Rajpootana at the beginning of the year, it is
difficult to give a correct picture. Unlike the Hindustani regions, they
were inhabited by a very motley population—Bundelas, Rajpoots, Rohillas,
Mahrattas, Bheels, Jâts, Ghonds, all mingled, and governed by chieftains
who cared much more for their own petty authority than for the kings of
Delhi and Lucknow, or for castes and creeds. Luckily the two principal
Mahratta leaders, Scindia and Holkar, still remained faithful to the
British, and thus rendered possible what would have been impossible
without their assistance. If to Central India and Rajpootana, we add
Bundelcund and the Saugor territories, we shall have a wide sweep of
country approached nearest at one point by the Calcutta presidency, at
another by the Madras presidency, and at a third by that of Bombay. As,
however, Calcutta had no troops to spare for that part of India, Madras
and Bombay sent up columns and ‘field-forces’ as fast as they could be
provided; and thus it is that we read of small military bodies under
Stuart, Steuart, Roberts, Whitlock, Rose, Raines, and other officers.
According to the number of troops composing them, and the districts in
which their services were required, these columns received various
names—such as ‘Rajpootana Field-force,’ ‘Nerbudda Field-force,’ ‘Malwah
Field-force,’ and ‘Central India Field-force.’ The mere naming might be
of small consequence, were it not that confusion arose occasionally by
different appellations being employed at different times for the very
same force. At various periods during the month encounters took place, a
few of which may briefly be noticed.
On the 6th of January, a small force of about 500 miscellaneous troops,
with guns, set out from Camp Muddah in Rajpootana, under Major Raines,
to rout a body of rebels at Rowah. They found the village strongly
fortified by a hedge fronting a deep ditch and breastwork of earth,
thick and loopholed. After a reconnaissance the major advanced; when the
enemy opened fire, bringing down branches of trees with a crash among
the British. When a hot artillery and infantry fire had been maintained
for some time, about 200 men of the 10th Bombay N.I. received orders to
storm the village; they advanced in admirable order, dashed forward,
cleared the hedge, mounted to the opposite side, and compelled the
insurgents to make a precipitate retreat. The village was burned to
ashes, and the force returned to camp—having marched over deep sand in a
thick jungle for twenty-two miles. One of the horrors of war was
illustrated forcibly in a few brief words contained in an officer’s
narrative of this engagement: ‘The villagers were mowed down in sections
by the artillery, as they were entering a cave on the sides of the rock
in rear of the village.’ Nothing perplexed the English officers more
than to determine how far to compassionate the native villagers;
sometimes these poor creatures suffered terribly and undeservedly; but
on other occasions they unquestionably assisted the rebels.’
[Illustration:
Houses in the Chandnee Chowk, Delhi.
]
Sir Hugh Rose had a short but decisive encounter with a body of rebels
at Ratgurh or Rutgurh towards the close of the month. This was a town in
Central India, between Saugor and Bhopal, in and near which many
chieftains had unfurled the banner of rebellion, at the head of whom was
Nawab Fazil Mahomed Khan. Ratgurh was a strong place, in good repair,
and supplied with a year’s provisions. The rebels intended to have made
a bold stand; but they lost heart when they saw siege-artillery brought
up to a position which they had deemed unattainable, and applied to the
breaching of their fort. Many of the defenders abandoned the fort during
the night, letting themselves down by ropes from the rocks, &c. On the
next day some of their number, aided by many mutinous sepoys, emerged
from the thick jungles in the neighbourhood, attacked the videttes
guarding the rear of Sir Hugh’s camp, and attempted to relieve the fort;
but they were driven across the river Betwah, and the fort securely
captured. It is worthy of note how many of the contests during the wars
of the mutiny partook of the nature of sieges. Mud-forts have been
famous in India for centuries, and the natives exhibit much tact in
defending them. As long as guns attack from a safe distance, such
strongholds may be long defended; but a storming by British bayonets
utterly paralyses the garrisons. Sir Hugh bent his attention towards
Saugor also, which had for many months been invested by a large body of
the enemy. With the second brigade of the Central India Field-force,
reinforced by the 3d Europeans and the 3d native cavalry from the Poonah
division, he laid his plans for an effective relief of that place.
General Whitlock, with a Madras column, was also bound for Saugor; but
it was expected that Rose would reach that place before him.
In another region, much nearer Calcutta, a small military affair
presented itself for notice. Just before the commencement of the new
year, Sumbhulpore was relieved from a trouble that had pressed upon it,
in the presence of a miscellaneous body of rebels. A small force of less
than 300 troops, consisting of Madras native infantry, Ramgurh infantry,
and Nagpoor irregular cavalry, made a forced march from Nagpoor to
Sumbhulpore; and on the 30th of December Captain Wood marched out with
this force to chastise a body of rebels encamped in a gorse-land near
the city. The victory was speedy and decisive, and was rendered more
valuable by the capture of three native chieftains who had been leaders
in the rebellion. The rebels were not sepoys, but escaped convicts.
The large and important regions of Nagpoor and Hyderabad exhibited
nearly the same features at the beginning of the year as they had done
during the summer and autumn. Containing very few pure Hindustanis of
the Brahmin and Rajpoot castes, and being within comparatively easy
reach of the trusty and trusted native troops of the Madras presidency,
they were seldom disturbed by symptoms of mutiny. The British
commissioners or residents had, it is true, much to render them anxious;
but the perils were not so great as those which weighed down their
brother-officials in other regions. The Deccan, or Hyderabad, or the
Nizam’s Country—for it was known by all three names—had from the first
been more troubled by marauders than by regular military mutineers. The
villages of Mugrool, Janappul, Sind Kaid, Rungeenee, and Dawulgaum,
mostly distant about twenty or thirty miles from Jaulnah, were infested
during January by predatory bands of Rohillas and Bheels, who alarmed
the villages by acts of plunder, dacoitee, and cruelty. They even went
so far as to plunder the treasure-chest of a regiment of the Hyderabad
Contingent, while on the way from Aurungabad to Jaulnab, and barely two
miles from the last-named place. The officer commanding at Jaulnah sent
a small force in pursuit; but the marauders, here as elsewhere, were
swift of foot, and made clear off with their booty. These Bheels, a
half-savage mountain tribe, gave annoyance in more districts than one.
Captain Montgomery, superintendent of police at Ahmednuggur, a city
between Jaulnah and Bombay, found it necessary to go out and attack a
strong body of them, who held a position in a jungle twelve miles from
Chandore. He had with him a miscellaneous force of Bombay native troops;
but after three successive attempts he was beaten back from the enemy’s
position, and wounded, as well as three of his officers.
The Nagpoor force, though never very closely in league with the
mutineers further north, contrived to rouse suspicion and bring down
punishment early in the year. The Nagpoor irregulars had been disarmed
by Brigadier Prior very early in the history of the Revolt; but Mr
Plowden, commissioner of the Nagpoor territory, believing that they
might be trusted, advised that their weapons should again be given to
them. The conduct of the men throughout the rest of the year justified
this reliance; but, with the strange inconsistency that so often marked
the proceedings of the natives, they stained the first month of the year
with a deed of violence. On the 18th of January, at Raeepore, a place on
the road between Nagpoor and Cuttack, a party of Mussulman gunners in
the Nagpoor artillery suddenly rose, murdered Sergeant-major Sidwell,
and called on the 3d Nagpoor irregular infantry to assist them in
exterminating the Europeans. Either the 3d were innocent in the matter,
or their hearts failed them; for they not only remained firm, but at
once assisted in disarming the gunners. On the 22d, Lieutenant Elliott,
deputy-commissioner, rode into Raeepore, and immediately brought the
gunners to trial; all but one were found guilty, and were hung that same
evening, amid frantic appeals to their comrades to save them for the
sake of their common faith—an appeal to which the infantry did not
respond.
It may be observed, in relation to all the military operations in the
month of January, that there were certain rebel leaders whose personal
movements were seldom clearly known to the British officers. Nena Sahib
of Bithoor, Koer Singh of Jugdispore, and Mohammed Khan of Bareilly,
were unquestionably urging the sepoys and rebels to continue the
struggle against the Company’s ‘raj;’ but their own marchings and
retreatings from place to place were veiled in much obscurity. There
was, in truth, a very intelligible motive for this; for a price was
placed upon the head of each, and he could not fully know whether any
traitor were at his elbow. Some of the leaders, such as the Rajah of
Minpooree and the Nawab of Furruckabad, were believed to have joined
their fortunes with those of the defenders of Lucknow; while Mahomed
Hussein, as we have seen, was hovering between Oude and Goruckpore,
according to the strength of the Goorkhas sent against him. It was known
that many of the Gwalior mutineers, after their severe defeat in
December, had collected again in Bundelcund; but it was not clearly
ascertained who among them assumed the post of leader.
[Illustration]
-----
Footnote 131:
A return was prepared by order of parliament, of the odds and ends
composing what was called the _sea-kit_ of English soldiers going out
to India, the cost at which they were estimated, and the mode of
paying for them:
Articles. Price.
Two canvas frocks at 3_s._ 3_d._ (jackets substituted for £0 6 6
frocks in the case of sergeants),
One pair canvas trousers, 0 3 4
One neck handkerchief, 0 0 8
One pair of shoes, 0 6 0
Three pounds of marine soap, at 7_d._, 0 1 9
Two pounds of yellow soap, at 7_d._, 0 1 2
Nine balls of pipeclay, 0 0 9
One quart tin-pot, with hook, 0 1 0
One scrubbing-brush, 0 0 8
Three tins of blacking, 0 1 0
One clasp-knife, 0 1 0
One bag in lieu of haversack, 0 0 10
Needles and thread, 0 1 0
Three pounds of tobacco, at 2_s._ 8_d._, 0 8 0
Two flannel-belts, 0 2 0
Two check-shirts, at 2_s._ 6_d._, 0 5 0
—— —— —
£2 0 8
‘The prices,’ as the return tells us, ‘are unavoidably liable to
variation, but those in the above list will serve as a general
standard for guidance. These extra necessaries are paid for by the men
to whom they are issued, out of pay advanced for the purpose. Tobacco
is issued to such men only as are in the habit of using it; and if any
man be provided already with any of the above articles, and such are
in a serviceable condition, a duplicate supply is not given.’
It will at once be understood that the ordinary equipment of the
soldier is not here mentioned; only the extras for the sea-voyage
being included. The ‘nine balls of pipeclay’ constitute perhaps the
worst item in the list.
Footnote 132:
Before the final departure from the neighbourhood of Cawnpore, the
British troops did their best to despoil one who received more
execration than any other man in India. An officer writing at the
close of the year, said: ‘We have made very good use of our delay at
Cawnpore. The Highland brigade was encamped at Bithoor, and employed
in raising all Nena Sahib’s valuables from a well. The operation was a
most difficult one, as the well was deep and full of water. However,
it was very successful; for not including their last day’s work (a
very good one) they raised 75½ pounds of gold in various shapes, and
252 pounds of silver. The last day they got an enormous quantity of
gold and silver, so heavy that a man could just carry it. I hope they
will come upon Bajee Rao’s Jewels. There are two more wells yet to
open. The Nena is “beating his breast” at our well-successes.’
Footnote 133:
One incident of this affair was afterwards thus described by an
officer present: ‘A brigade was sent to repair the suspension-bridge.
They commenced work on the 1st, and by morning of the 2d had finished
it all but one or two planks, which they were laying down, when the
chief saw the villagers come out of the village opposite. He desired
some one to go and tell them not to be afraid, as they would not be
hurt; when all of a sudden bang came a round-shot from amongst them,
which killed four men of the 53d. The enemy were then discovered to be
in force; the naval brigade soon opened on them, pitching into the
village for about two hours, they returning it with an 18-pounder and
a 9-pounder. When the firing commenced, we were all sent for, the
bridge was soon finished, and then the chief with his force crossed,
turned them out of the village, and pursued them with cavalry and
artillery for about eight miles.’
Footnote 134:
Sir James Outram’s total force in and near the Alum Bagh, at the
beginning of the year, was made up of the following elements:
H.M. 5th, 75th, 78th, 84th, and 90th foot.
1st Madras Europeans.
Brasyer’s Ferozpore Sikhs.
12th irregular cavalry.
Hardinge’s corps.
Military train.
Engineer park.
Artillery park.
Madras Sappers and Miners.
Royal artillery, under Eyre and Maude.
Bengal artillery, under Olphert.
Footnote 135:
9th Lancers, two squadrons.
Hodson’s Horse, 200.
Bengal H.A. one troop.
Bengal F.A. 4 guns.
42d Highlanders.
53d foot.
4th Punjaub rifles.
Footnote 136:
The condition of the British quarters in Agra at the beginning of the
year was briefly told by one of the writers in the _Mofussilite_
newspaper, after the severe pressure on the garrison had ceased: ‘The
fort is being abandoned by every one who has a house which can be made
in the least degree habitable; but many people will still be compelled
to remain within its gloomy walls for an indefinite period; as in many
instances the destruction of houses has been so complete, that it will
be a work of time and a matter of considerable expense to place them
in anything like decent repair.... As we are fortunate enough to
possess a good house with a pucka roof, which has been put into
excellent repair, we intend publishing next Tuesday’s paper in that
building—the former printing-office of the _Mofussilite_. We shall all
be put to great straits for furniture, crockery, and such like things;
for although a charpoy (stump-bedstead), a teapoy, and a couple of
broken chairs, were as much as we could find room for in one of our
little cells of the fort, yet we shall soon require rather more when
we dwell in roomier habitations. Our distant friends must know that it
is a rare thing to see two plates of the same pattern on any table,
and that none but those upon whom fortune has smiled indulge in glass
tumblers. Tin pots are the height of our ambition. Port, sherry,
brandy, Allsopp, and Bass, are beverages generally as unknown to this
community as they were to Robinson Crusoe.’
[Illustration:
SIR JAMES OUTRAM.
]
CHAPTER XXIV.
MILITARY OPERATIONS IN FEBRUARY.
Impatient as the whole British nation was to hear of a brilliant and
successful termination of the struggle in India, every telegram, every
weekly mail, shewed that the time for this satisfaction was still far
distant. The mutineers were beaten, but not crushed; the rebellious
chieftains were checked, but not extinguished; their deluded followers
were disappointed in the results obtained, but not deterred from making
further efforts. England, with all her delays and waverings of opinion,
had sent over a large, fine, and complete army; the Punjaub had supplied
such a force of reliable troops as no one would have ventured beforehand
to anticipate; generals had been brought into notice by the exigencies
of public affairs who possessed those fine soldierly attributes which a
nation is proud to recognise; the authorities, steady at their posts,
never for a moment doubted that the British ‘raj’ would be established
on a firmer basis than ever—and yet everything was in turmoil in India.
Blood and treasure were being daily expended; but the time had not
arrived when any adequate return was obtained for these losses. January
having passed, men speculated whether Lucknow and Oude—to say nothing of
other cities and provinces—would fall permanently into British hands
during the month of February. What was the response to this much-mooted
question, the present chapter will shew.
The gallant commander-in-chief, Sir Colin Campbell, being the chief
actor in the busy military scenes of the period, it may be well to trace
his movements during the month of February, before noticing the
marchings and battles of other generals.
It will be remembered, from the details given in the last chapter, that
Sir Colin, after the capture of Furruckabad and Futteghur early in
January, remained during the greater part of that month encamped in that
neighbourhood, organising the military arrangements necessary for an
advance into Oude. These arrangements involved the arrival of siege-guns
from Delhi and Agra, and the concentration at one point of different
columns under his brigadiers. Among various subsidiary operations,
Captain Taylor, of the Engineers, was sent to the Alum Bagh, to report
as far as possible on the defensive works thrown up by the enemy in and
near Lucknow, and to gather a strong engineer force to aid the
commander-in-chief. Sir Colin remained nearly stationary during these
preliminary proceedings, elaborating the details of his plan of
strategy, in conjunction with his chief of the staff, General Mansfield.
When his troops and his missiles, his _personnel_ and _matériel_, were
pretty well collected, he returned from Futteghur to Cawnpore on the 4th
of February. Viscount Canning had shortly before gone up from Calcutta
to Allahabad; and Sir Colin started off on the 8th to meet him. What
these two representatives of British power agreed on during their
interview, they of course kept to themselves; but every one felt the
probability that some extensive scheme of policy, military and
political, to be worked out by soldiers and civilians in unison, was
discussed and mutually accepted. Returning again to Cawnpore, the
commander-in-chief made the last arrangements for giving activity to the
force which had been so slowly and with so much difficulty collected.
Fain would many critics have censured the old general for delay; fain
would they have urged that in two months he had only fought two
battles—at Cawnpore and at Furruckabad—while the world was impatiently
waiting to hear of the reconquest of Oude; but as he kept his own
council with remarkable reticence, criticism gave way to a belief that
there must have been good and sufficient cause for the caution which
marked all his proceedings.
On or about the 11th of February, all the preparatory operations were
completed, and an army, larger than any which had up to that time
appeared against the rebels, began to cross the Ganges from Cawnpore
into Oude. It had originally been intended to effect the crossing of a
portion of the army at Futteghur; but Cawnpore was afterwards selected.
The crossing was necessarily a slow and difficult one, on account of the
vast _impedimenta_ of an Indian army. To increase the facilities, a
second bridge of boats was constructed. Even with this addition the
passage across the Ganges lasted several days; for each bullock-cart
carried but little. A small portion only of the ammunition, irrespective
of all other equipage and baggage, required the services of fifteen
hundred carts. The artillery was on an enormous scale; the siege-guns,
the naval-brigade guns, the field-guns, and the horse-artillery guns,
numbered not much less than two hundred in all. After crossing, the army
distributed itself at certain places on the line of route from Cawnpore
to Lucknow. For instance, on the 15th of the month, the head-quarters
were still at Cawnpore; one portion of the army was encamped at Onao,
one march from Cawnpore; another at Busherutgunje, a march and a half
from Cawnpore; a third at Nawabgunge, two marches from Cawnpore; a
fourth, under Outram, at the Alum Bagh; and a fifth at Sheorajpore,
twenty miles from Cawnpore on the Allygurh road. Sir Colin himself still
remained with head-quarters at Cawnpore—partly to provide for the safety
of convoys of ladies and children passing down from Agra through
Cawnpore to Allahabad; partly to await the entry into Oude, from the
east, of the forces under Jung Bahadoor and Brigadier Franks; and partly
to watch the proceedings of a large body of the enemy near Calpee, who
were threatening again to overrun the Doab unless strongly held in
check.
It may here usefully be stated that Sir Colin organised his Oudian army
before any of the regiments began to cross into that province. As a
permanent record of the component elements of that fine force, we give
the details in a note at the end of the present chapter; but a summary
may not be out of place here. The ‘army of Oude,’ as tabulated on the
10th of February, comprised such regiments and corps as were at that
time under the more immediate command of Sir Colin Campbell; and took no
account of the separate forces under Jung Bahadoor, Franks, Seaton,
Macgregor, Windham, Inglis, Van Cortlandt, Rose, Stuart, Steuart, Orr,
Whitlock, Greathed, Penny, M’Causland, Roberts, and other officers whose
services were required elsewhere, or who had not reached the Oudian
frontier at that date. The army of Oude, thus limited in its meaning,
was systematically classified. There were three divisions of infantry,
under Outram, Walpole, and a third general afterwards to be named. These
were subdivided into six brigades, under Hamilton, Russell, Franklyn,
Adrian Hope, Douglas, and Horsford—two brigades to each division. Each
brigade was further divided into three regiments or battalions. The
Queen’s regiments of infantry in the six brigades were the 5th, 23d,
34th, 38th, 42d, 53d, 78th, 79th, 84th, 90th, and 93d, and two
battalions of the Rifle Brigade. The other infantry regiments were
Company’s Europeans, Sikhs, and Punjaubees; the Goorkhas were in corps
not yet incorporated in the army of Oude. A fourth division of infantry,
under Franks, Wroughton, and Puhlwan Singh, was provided for, but did
not at that time form a part of the army of Oude. The cavalry formed one
division, under Hope Grant, and was separated into two brigades, under
William Campbell and Little. The Queen’s cavalry regiments in this
division were the 2d Dragoon Guards, the 7th Hussars, and the 9th
Lancers; the other cavalry were Sikhs, Punjaubees, and a few volunteers
and irregulars of miscellaneous origin. The artillery division, under
Archdale Wilson (the conqueror of Delhi), comprised a field-artillery
brigade under Wood, a siege-artillery brigade under Barker, a naval
brigade under Peel, and an engineer brigade under Napier.
Not until the last day of February did the commander-in-chief cross over
the Ganges, and take command of the army destined to besiege and finally
capture the great city of Lucknow. Meanwhile Sir James Outram, at the
Alum Bagh, had been daily in communication with the other officers, and
had prepared detailed plans of everything relating to Lucknow and its
defences, so far as he was acquainted with them. The engineers, too, had
been busily engaged in preparing that vast store of siege-materials
which is necessary for the attack of strongly defended fortifications.
What the army of Oude effected during the month of March, the next
chapter will shew. Before quitting this part of the February operations,
however, it may be well to notice episodically the remarkable connection
between the newspaper press and the battle-field in recent times. In the
great wars of former days, correspondents residing at the chief cities
in foreign countries were wont to send such items of information as they
could pick up to the editors of English newspapers; and military
officers, cautiously and anonymously, sent occasional criticisms on the
details of the battles in which they were engaged. It was left for the
period of the Crimean war, however, to commence, or at least to perfect,
a system by which a non-military writer is sent out at enormous expense,
to join an army in the field or at a siege, to bear some danger and much
privation, to see with his own eyes everything that can be seen, and to
write such descriptions of the scenes as shall be intelligible to
ordinary newspaper readers. Mr W. H. Russell, of the _Times_, gave an
importance to such communications never before equalled, by the
brilliant style in which he described the military operations in
Bulgaria and the Crimea during the Russian war of 1854-5; and the system
was ably carried out by special correspondents connected with the staff
of some of the other London newspapers. When the Indian mutiny was half
a year old, Mr Russell started from England, to do that for India which
he had before done for the Crimea—mix in the turmoil of war, and
describe battles in a graphic and vivid way. What he saw and what he did
in February initiated him into many of the peculiarities of Indian life,
when scenes of slaughter had not yet come under his notice. Leaving
Calcutta on the 4th of February, he went like other travellers to
Raneegunge by railway, and thence to Benares by gharry dâk—a
four-wheeled, venetian-blinded, oblong vehicle, driven by a native with
‘mail post guard’ inscribed on his brass belt-plate, and drawn at the
rate of seven miles an hour by a single horse, the horse being changed
at post-houses at every few miles’ distance. On the way were troops
going up with great regularity, travelling 35 miles per day in
bullock-carts, and supplied with comfortable meals and sleeping-places
at the dâk-bungalows. Travelling thus by way of Burdwan, Nimeaghat,
Sheergotty, and Noubutpore, he arrived at Benares; this city, ‘long,
straggling, and Turkish looking,’ was completely commanded by a new fort
at Rajghat, built since the troubles of the preceding summer. Thence to
Allahabad the fields were rich with corn, and the roads thronged by
natives and trains of bullock-hackeries laden with cotton for the
Benares and Mirzapore markets. Arrived at Allahabad, Mr Russell
commenced his camp-life, messing generally with some of the officers,
and sleeping under a tent. Viscount Canning and his suite were at that
time living under canvas within the fort; while all around were
evidences of military preparation for the English regiments sent up from
Calcutta. Thence he travelled for fifty miles by the second portion of
the great trunk-railway. The rebels in the preceding June had attacked
the locomotives in an extraordinary way, if his account is to be taken
as anything more than mere raillery: ‘They fired musketry at the engines
for some time at a distance, as if they were living bodies; then
advanced cautiously, and finding that the engines did not stir, began to
belabour them with sticks, all the time calling them names and abusing
them.’ By horse-dâk Mr Russell proceeded through Futtehpoor to Cawnpore,
where he, like all others, was struck with astonishment that poor Sir
Hugh Wheeler’s ‘intrenchment’ could ever have held out so long as it
did. Sir Colin Campbell was then at Cawnpore, living in a small
subaltern’s tent, working incessantly, and provided with an amount of
personal ‘baggage’ so marvellously small as to shew how little the old
soldier regarded luxuries. Mr Russell remained at Cawnpore till the
27th, when he joined the army in the march towards Lucknow. He had
provided, in true Indian fashion, for the carriage of himself and
baggage, a saddle-horse, a horse-gharry, and four camels. His account of
the preparations for his march is not only amusing from the way in which
it is told, but is instructive on matters relating to travelling in
India.[137] The end of February found Mr Russell, a civilian immersed in
all the bustle of an army, ready to see and hear whatever the month of
March should present to his attention.
Leaving for the present the commander-in-chief and his army, we shall
briefly trace the operations, so far as they occurred in the month of
February, of such of his generals as were employed in duties away from
his immediate control and supervision.
Sir James Outram at once presents claims for notice; for though
appointed general of one of the divisions of the army of Oude, he held
an independent command until the month had expired. During more than
three months this distinguished officer had never seen Sir Colin
Campbell; during more than five months he had never once been away from
the vicinity of Lucknow and the Alum Bagh. He marched with Havelock and
Neill from Cawnpore to the capital of Oude in September, and relieved or
rather reinforced Inglis; he commanded the British Residency at Lucknow
during October, with Havelock and Inglis as his subordinates; he aided
Sir Colin to effect the ‘rescue’ in November; and then he commanded at
the Alum Bagh throughout the whole of December, January, and February.
What he did in the first two of these months, we have seen in former
chapters; what were his military proceedings in February, a few lines
will suffice to shew.
Whether the enemy supposed that, by another attack on the Alum Bagh,
they might disturb the extensive plans of the British; whether they were
influenced by a sudden impulse to achieve a limited success; or whether
another motive existed, presently to be mentioned—they fought another
battle with Sir James Outram, and received their usual defeat. On the
morning of the 21st of February, no less than 20,000 of the enemy
attacked the Alum Bagh. Having filled all the trenches with as many men
as they could hold, and placed large masses of infantry in the topes as
a support, they commenced a simultaneous movement round both flanks of
Outram’s position—threatening at the same time the whole length of
front, the northeast corner of the Alum Bagh, and the picket and fort at
Jelalabad. Outram, perceiving at a glance the nature of the attack,
strengthened the several endangered points. At the Alum Bagh and
Jelalabad posts the enemy received a severe check, having come within
range of the grape-shot which the British poured out upon them. He
detached about 250 cavalry, and two field-pieces, under Captain Barrow,
to the rear of Jelalabad; here Barrow came suddenly upon 2000 of the
enemy’s cavalry, and 5000 infantry, whom he kept at bay so effectually
with his two field-guns, that they were quite frustrated in their
intended scheme of attack. The enemy’s attack on Outram’s left flank was
made by no fewer than 5000 cavalry and 8000 infantry. To oppose these he
sent only four field-guns and 120 men of the military train, under Major
Robertson; but this mere handful of men, with the guns, drove away the
enemy. A large convoy was at the time on the road from Cawnpore; and the
escort for this convoy had taken away most of Outram’s cavalry. It is
not surprising that the enemy should select such a time for attacking
the Alum Bagh and endeavouring to intercept the convoy; but it is
certainly a matter for wonder that such a large army should suffer
itself to be beaten by a few hundred men. The casualty-list, too, was as
surprising as anything else; for Outram had only 9 wounded and _none_
killed; whereas the enemy’s loss was adverted to in the following terms:
‘The reports from the city state the enemy to have lost 60 killed and
200 wounded in their attack on the Alum Bagh, and about 80 or 90 killed
in front of Jelalabad. This was exclusive of their loss on the left
flank, and along our front, where our heavy artillery had constant
opportunities of firing shell and shrapnel into the midst of their
moving masses. I consider their loss to have been heavier than on any of
their previous attacks.’ At this very time the bulk of Sir Colin’s army
was approaching the Alum Bagh; the enemy well knew that fact, and had
only been induced to hazard the attack on the 21st by the temporary
absence of some of Outram’s troops. The attack having failed, they
hastened back to strengthen their defensive arrangements at Lucknow.
It may now be well to notice what was doing eastward of Oude. The strong
Goorkha force under Jung Bahadoor, and the effective column of
miscellaneous troops under Brigadier Franks, had greatly improved the
condition of that portion of country which lay between Oude and Lower
Bengal, around the cities and stations of Patna, Dinapoor, Arrah, Buxar,
Ghazeepore, Azimghur, Goruckpore, Jounpoor, Benares, and Mirzapore.
Mutineers there were, and marauders connected with rebel chieftains; but
their audacity, except in the immediate vicinity of Oude, was checked by
the increasing power of the forces brought to bear against them.
Brigadier Franks, one of the most energetic and admired of the officers
whom the wars of the mutiny brought forth, had since the month of
December commanded a column called the Jounpoor Field-force, which had
been employed in chastising and expelling bodies of rebels from the
Azimghur, Allahabad, and Jounpoor districts. During these operations, he
had defeated the enemy at many places. The time was now approaching when
Franks was to join Sir Colin in the final operations against Lucknow;
and when his Jounpoor field-force, losing its individuality, was to form
the fourth division of infantry in the army of Oude, with Franks as its
general of division. That change, however, was not likely to occur until
the month of March had arrived. About the middle of February he was with
his force at Budleepore, a town on the route from Jounpoor to Sultanpore
in Oude. His force comprised H.M. 10th, 20th, and 97th regiments, six
regiments of Goorkhas, and twenty guns. Colonel Puhlwan Singh commanded
the Goorkhas, and Colonel Maberley the artillery. The force was a strong
one, containing 2300 Europeans and 3200 Goorkhas, and an excellent park
of guns. There was one month’s provisions collected; and Franks was
awaiting the orders of Sir Colin for an advance into Oude. Colonel
Wroughton was with him, having no distinct military command, but acting
as a medium of communication between Franks and Puhlwan Singh; being
familiar with the Goorkhas, his services were valuable in giving such
instructions to the Nepaulese auxiliaries as would enable them to
understand and obey the orders of the brigadier.
Although placed in an expectant attitude, until he could receive
instructions from Sir Colin, and until he heard of Jung Bahadoor’s
crossing of the frontier into Oude, Brigadier Franks was quite ripe for
an encounter with the enemy whenever and wherever he could meet with
them. They gave him an opportunity before the month was out, and he made
ample use of it. He crossed the frontier into Oude near Singramow, on
the 19th, and received speedy proof that a very large body of the enemy
was before him—ordered, apparently, by the self-appointed authorities at
Lucknow, to prevent him from approaching that city. Franks, however,
cleverly deceiving the rebel leader, Nazim Mahomed Hossein, attacked his
army in detail, first at Chandah and then at Humeerpoor. The section of
the rebels at Chandah, under Bunda Hossein, comprised among other troops
the mutinous sepoys of the 20th, 28th, 48th, and 71st Bengal native
regiments. Franks attacked them in a strong position. They were in the
fort and intrenchments, and crowning a long row of hillocks in front of
the town; every neighbouring tope and village was full of them.
Nevertheless he defeated them, and captured six of their guns. Giving
his troops only a very brief rest, he marched on to Humeerpoor, two or
three miles distant, on that same evening, and attacked a still larger
force under the Nazim himself. The defeat was equally significant. ‘Our
Enfield rifles did it all,’ wrote one of the English officers. The enemy
retreated during the night, and Franks and his brave men bivouacked,
after having, in the two engagements, inflicted a loss on their
opponents of six guns and 800 men killed and wounded. The brigadier
himself had been in the saddle fifteen hours on this severe day. After
resting on the 20th, Franks and his opponent the Nazim, the one at
Humeerpoor and the other at Warree, sought which should be the first to
obtain possession of the pass, jungle, and fort of Badshaigunje. By a
forced march, the English brigadier outmanœuvred the Nazim, gained the
fort, and waited till reinforcements could reach him. The two forces
came in sight of each other again on the 23d, by which time the Nazim
and Bunda Hossein had swelled their motley army to no less than 25,000
men, comprising 5000 revolted sepoys, 1100 sowars, and the rest rabble;
having with them 25 guns. The result of this encounter was a severe
battle, fought near Sultanpore. The enemy had taken up a very wide
position; their centre resting on the old cantonment and sepoy lines,
thence extending through villages and topes, and screened in front by
hillocks and nullahs. Franks turned the enemy’s right by a detour, drew
them into a hot struggle, and won a complete victory. No less than 1800
insurgents were killed and wounded, including two or three rebel
chieftains. The victors captured twenty pieces of artillery, and the
whole of the enemy’s standing camp, baggage, ammunition, &c. The result
of this battle was that the enemy were frustrated in the attempt to
check the advance of Franks into Oude; he found the roads to Lucknow and
Fyzabad entirely open to him. If he had had cavalry, he would have
pursued and cut up the enemy in retreat; but 250 horse, long and
anxiously expected from Allahabad, did not arrive at Sultanpore until
the day after the battle. These three actions, two on the 19th and one
on the 23d, were marked by that anomaly which the military operations in
India so often exhibited—the disparity between the losses on the two
sides. Nothing but a full trust in the truthfulness of a gallant officer
would render credible the fact that, after conflicts in which 2600 of
the enemy were killed and wounded, the conqueror could write as follows:
‘I am proud to announce that, through the glorious conduct of the
officers and men of this force, European and Nepaulese, I have been
enabled by manœuvring to achieve these brilliant results with the loss
on our side, in all three actions, of only 2 men killed and 16
wounded’—and this, be it remembered, in contesting against four times
his own numbers.
While this Jounpoor field-force was thus actively engaged, a small body
of English sailors were slowly advancing by another route into Oude.
Ever active to be up and doing, a band of about 250 tars, belonging to
the steam-frigate _Pearl_, were delighted at being formed into a naval
brigade, and offered a chance of meeting and well belabouring the
‘Pandies.’ Under Captain Sotheby, they were sent up the river Gogra in
the Company’s steamer _Jumna_. They embarked near Dinapoor, and
disembarked on the 20th at Nowraine, twenty miles short of Fyzabad. The
enemy had two forts at that place, both of which were speedily taken,
together with guns and ammunition, and the enemy driven away with great
loss. Jung Bahadoor, with his Nepaulese contingent, was at the time not
far distant; and Colonel Rowcroft, with 2000 Goorkhas, aided in the
attack.
The proceedings of the Nepaulese leader must now be noticed. The English
officers frequently, though cautiously, complained of the slowness of
his movements; and Sir Colin Campbell was becoming impatient for his
appearance near the great scene of conflict at Lucknow. He had been many
weeks in the region around Goruckpore, with a fine army of 9000
Goorkhas; and though he had aided in putting down many bands of
insurgents, it was now hoped that he would at once advance towards the
centre of Oude. This he did, but not rapidly, during the month of
February.
On the 26th, while Jung Bahadoor and Brigadier Macgregor were on the
march from Mobarukhpoor to Ukberpoor, on the way to Fyzabad, they
learned that a small body of rebels were in a fort at Berozepoor. A
portion of the body-guard went to the place, and relied on a promise
made by the rebels that they would evacuate the fort in forty minutes.
Instead of departing, the enemy prepared for a defence; and a desperate
fight ensued around a small fort distinguished by much novelty of
construction. The fort was so completely surrounded by an impenetrable
hedge of bamboos, that the besiegers were in much doubt concerning the
nature of the defences within. At one place they were stopped by a
ditch, at another by a high mud-wall and bastion, at another by a row of
lofty bamboo-stakes. The place being very small, an attempt was made to
storm it by assault; but so many were the obstacles, that a clearance by
cannonade became necessary; and it was not until after much artillery
firing, and much loss of life, that the fort was captured. So peculiar
was the construction of the place, that Captain Holland was obliged to
drag a 6-pounder gun through a bamboo-fence and an outer ditch, before
he could breach a mud-wall which had until then been invisible. It was
certainly no small achievement, in a military point of view, for the
enemy to have constructed a fort entirely novel to the besiegers, and
capable of being defended for several hours by less than forty men
against many hundreds. When all was over, Brigadier Macgregor, wishing
to know something more of the nature and construction of this little
fort of Berozepoor, requested Lieutenant Sankey, of the Madras
Engineers, to examine and report thereon—seeing that there might be like
forts elsewhere, with which it would be well to be familiar. Near the
village of Berozepoor, then, the fort was built. It was only sixty feet
square, with circular bastions at the angles, and a banquette just
within the parapet on which musketeers might stand. The mud-rampart was
fifteen feet above the level of the ground, very thick at the bottom and
loopholed for musketry at the top. It was surrounded by a ditch, this
again by a belt of high bamboos, which was in turn encircled by another
ditch ten or twelve feet deep. A row of newly planted bamboo slips,
eight or ten feet high, was placed on the immediate lip of the
counterscarp of the outer ditch. Lieutenant Sankey said in his report:
‘Viewed from the outside, nothing very suspicious or formidable was
discoverable about the place. It had all the appearance of an ordinary
clump of bamboos at the corner of a village; which latter, like all
inhabited places in this part of the country, was very well screened in
foliage.’ He found it, however, ‘a very hedgehog of fortification.
Nothing could be more difficult of approach; every portion bristling
with thorns, and intercepted by ditches and banks.’
A little must now be said concerning a few isolated operations,
belonging to the month of February, near the Jumna and the Ganges, in
which Seaton, Maxwell, and Hope Grant were concerned. Colonel Seaton, at
the close of the month, was at Mahomedabad, a few miles distant from
Futteghur. He had with him a detachment of the 82d foot, 300 of De
Kantzow’s horse, 350 of De Kantzow’s foot, and 40 Sikh troopers. After
waiting for the arrival of the 4th Punjaub infantry, the 3d Europeans,
Alexander’s Horse, and nine guns, he was enabled to organise an
efficient column for chastising the rebels in a number of villages
around Futteghur. Those operations, however, scarcely commenced until
the month of March.
Colonel Maxwell had the gratification of defeating a body of insurgents
who had for a long time given much anxiety to the British
officers—anxiety arising from a doubt concerning the plans and movements
of the insurgents. The Gwalior mutineers are here alluded to. They did
not allow the month to pass away wholly without giving signs of
activity; though those signs were few and unimportant. Colonel Maxwell,
commanding a detachment sent out from Cawnpore, suddenly found himself
attacked on the 4th by the mutineers, who marched from Calpee to his
camp at Bhogneepore. The broken nature of the ground, the cover of the
crops, and the dimness of the light at five o’clock on a winter’s
morning, prevented Maxwell from forming a correct estimate of numbers;
but he had every reason for believing them to be in great strength. He
could only bring against them five companies of H.M. 88th foot, 50
troopers, and 2 guns; yet with this small force he maintained a
running-fight for four hours. The enemy disputed every inch of the
ground, making a stand at Chowra, a place three or four miles distant
from the camp. He pursued them until they retreated across a small
river, keeping up the fire of their skirmishers to the very last. It is
difficult to understand what could have been the nature of the enemy’s
fire; for while, after the battle, the bodies of eighty rebels were
found dead upon the field, Colonel Maxwell recorded only five wounded
(none killed) in his own little force. Among the wounded was Lieutenant
Thompson, one of the few who escaped alive from Cawnpore.
About the middle of February, it became known that bodies of the enemy
were in motion near the fords or ghats on the left bank of the Ganges,
between Futteghur and Cawnpore, ready for any mischief that might
present itself. To clear away these rebels, a movable column was
organised, consisting of H.M. 34th, 38th, and 53d regiments, squadrons
of the 7th Hussars and 9th Lancers, squadrons of Hodson’s Horse and
Watson’s Horse, a company of Sappers and Miners, and a few guns. This
column was to start from the main Lucknow road at a point near Bunnee,
and to proceed on a line inclining towards the Ganges at such an angle
as to sweep the rebels towards the west, where, at present, they would
be less mischievous than if near the banks of the river. Sir Hope Grant
took command of this column, which consisted of 3246 men (2240 infantry,
636 cavalry, 326 artillery, and 44 native Sappers). One of his
achievements with this column consisted in the storming and capture of
the town of Meeangunje or Meagunje, on the 23d of February. In the
course of his various marchings, he learned that a body of the enemy had
taken up a strong position at Meeangunje, a town between Lucknow and
Futteghur. They had 2000 infantry in the town, 300 cavalry outside, and
five or six guns. Hope Grant’s force being stronger than theirs, a
victory was naturally to be expected, although the position was a strong
one. Meeangunje was surrounded by a stone wall fourteen feet high, and
had three strong gates, opening into the Lucknow, Cawnpore, and
Rohilcund roads respectively; there were also numerous bastions on all
sides. At each of the gates the enemy placed guns behind strong
breastworks, and the breastworks themselves were covered by trees. After
a careful reconnoitring, Grant found a weak point on the fourth side of
the town, where he could bring two heavy guns within three or four
hundred yards of the wall, at a place where a postern-gate pierced it.
Telling off part of his force to command the Lucknow road, another part
to the Rohilcund road, and the rest to await behind a village the result
of the cannonading, he opened fire. In less than an hour, the two heavy
guns made a practicable breach in the wall. Grant at once ordered H.M.
53d to advance to the assault. The regiment separated into two wings,
one of which, after entering the breach, proceeded under Colonel English
through the left of the town; while the other, under Major Payne,
penetrated to the right. This work was admirably done; the infantry
advancing through a labyrinth of lanes, and driving the enemy before
them at every yard. The town was captured, and with it six guns. The
enemy, in endeavouring to escape by the several gates, were killed or
captured to the number of nearly a thousand altogether. Here occurred
another of those inexplicable anomalies already adverted to; Sir Hope
Grant, in language too distinct to be misinterpreted, stated that his
loss was only 2 killed and 19 wounded.
The Doab had undergone a wonderful improvement during the winter months.
District after district was gradually falling out of the enemy’s hands,
and into the power of the British. Nevertheless, there was much need for
caution. The insurgents were cunning, and often appeared where little
expected. The commander-in-chief’s operations, in February as in
December, were influenced by the necessity of providing for the safety
of non-combatants escaping from the scenes of strife. In the earlier
month, as we have already seen, Sir Colin could not chastise the Gwalior
mutineers until he had sent off the women, children, sick, and wounded
from Lucknow to Cawnpore, Futtehpoor, and Allahabad; and now, in
February, he had to secure the passage of a convoy from Agra, comprising
a large number of ladies and 140 children. Protected by the 3d Bengal
Europeans, some irregular horse, and two guns, these helpless persons
left Agra on the 11th of February, and proceeded by way of Ferozabad and
Minpooree to Cawnpore—thence to be forwarded to Allahabad. On the way,
the convoy watched narrowly for any indications of the presence of Nena
Sahib, who was reported to be in movement somewhere in that quarter.
Of Delhi, the chief matter here to be noticed, is the trial of the old
imprisoned king, for complicity in the mutiny and its atrocities.
Without formally limiting the account to the month of February, the
general course of the investigation may briefly be traced.
The trial commenced on the 27th of January, in the celebrated imperial
chamber of the Dewani Khas, the ‘Elysium’ where in former days Mogul
power had been displayed in all its gorgeousness. The tribunal was a
court-martial, all the members being military officers. The president
was Colonel Dawes (in lieu of Brigadier Showers, who, though first
appointed, had been obliged to leave for service elsewhere). The other
members were Major Palmer, Major Redmond, Major Sawyers, and Captain
Rothney. Major Harriott, deputy-judge-advocate-general, officiated as
government prosecutor. The charges against the king were set forth under
four headings.[138] It may be doubted whether the wearisome legal
phraseology (’to raise, levy, and make insurrection, rebellion, and
war’—‘treasonably conspire, consult, and agree with,’ &c.) was well
fitted for the purpose; but this may depend on the mode in which the
English was translated into Hindustani.
It was impossible for the spectators to regard without emotion the
appearance of the aged monarch, the last representative of a long line
of Indian potentates, thus brought as a culprit before a tribunal of
English officers. Even those who considered him simply as a hoary-headed
villain were interested by the proceedings. After being in attendance
some time, sitting in a palanquin outside the court, under a guard of
Rifles, he was summoned within at about noon. He appeared very infirm,
and tottered into court supported on one side by his favourite son,
Jumma Bukht, and on the other by a confidential servant. He sat coiled
up on a cushion at the left of the president; and ‘presented such a
picture of helpless imbecility as, under other circumstances, must have
awakened pity.’ His son stood a few yards to the left, and the guard of
Rifles beyond all.
After the members of the court, the prosecutor, and the interpreter, had
taken the usual oaths, the prosecutor proceeded to read the charges
against the prisoner. He next addressed the court in a concise and
explanatory manner; and announced that, though the king would be tried
to ascertain whether he were guilty or not guilty, no capital sentence
could be passed upon him, in consequence of his life having been
guaranteed to him by Sir Archdale Wilson, through Captain Hodson. When
the king was asked, through the interpreter, whether he was guilty or
innocent, he professed to be ignorant of the nature of the charges
against him. This, however, was affected ignorance, for the charges had
long before been presented to him, translated into his own language.
After considerable delay, he pleaded ‘not guilty.’
During several sittings of the court, occupying many weeks, numerous
witnesses were examined. Among them were Jutmull, Mukkhun Lall, Captain
Forrest, Sir Theophilus Metcalfe, Hussun Uskeree, Bukhtawar, Kishen,
Chunee, Golam, Essamoola Khan, and other persons, European, Eurasian or
half-caste, and native. The evidence brought against the king was of
very varied character, tending to shew that he both aided in inciting
the mutiny, and in encouraging the atrocities of the mutineers. Some of
the evidence proved that, so long ago as the summer of 1856, the King of
Delhi had been in correspondence with the Shah of Persia, touching an
overturning of the English ‘raj’ in India: in a manner and at a time
corresponding with the advance of the Persians towards Herat. Other
portions confirmed the fact that many of the massacres at Delhi, at the
beginning of the Revolt, were sanctioned by the palace profligates, and
even committed immediately under the king’s own apartments. Sir T.
Metcalfe, in his evidence, stated it as his opinion, derived from an
intimate acquaintance with Delhi and its inhabitants, that the Revolt
was the legitimate fruit of a Mussulman conspiracy; that the courts of
Delhi and Lucknow were concerned in this conspiracy; that the war with
Persia helped to strengthen it; that the Hindoos were used as tools in
the matter by the Mohammedans; and that the affair of the greased
cartridges was regarded as a lucky opportunity for enlisting Hindoo
prejudices.
During the trial the king displayed a mingled silliness and cunning that
revealed much of his character. Sometimes, while the evidence was being
taken, he would coil himself up on his cushion, and appear lost in the
land of dreams. Except when anything particular struck him, he paid, or
appeared to pay, no attention whatever to the proceedings. On one of the
days he was aroused from sleep, to reply to a question put by the court.
Sometimes he would rouse up, as if by some sudden impulse, and make an
exclamation in denial of a witness’s statement. Once, when the intrigues
of Persia were under notice, he asked whether the Persians and the
Russians were the same people. On the twelfth day of the trial, the king
was more animated than usual; he several times declared his innocence of
everything; and amused himself by twisting and untwisting a scarf round
his head.
Without tracing the incidents of the trial day by day, or quoting the
evidence, it may suffice to say that the guilt of the aged sinner was
sufficiently proved, on some if not all of the charges. The safety of
his life being guaranteed, imprisonment became the only probable
punishment. He was sentenced for the rest of his days to
transportation—either to one of the Andaman Islands (a group in the
eastern portion of the Bay of Bengal), or to some other place that might
be selected. It may not be inappropriate to mention that some of the
witnesses proved that Mr Colvin at Agra, and Sir Theophilus Metcalfe at
Delhi, were told of a forthcoming Mohammedan conspiracy many weeks
before the Meerut outbreak; so utterly, however, did these authorities
disregard the rumour, that they did not even report it to the Calcutta
government. There were only a few men in India, in the spring of 1857,
who believed that the British ‘raj’ was ‘on the edge of a volcano.’
In connection with the fate of the old king, much attention was
necessarily bestowed on the past conduct of his favourite young wife,
the intriguing Sultana Zeenat Mahal, the ‘dark, fat, shrewd, but
sensual-looking woman,’ whom Mrs Hodson visited in the prison,[139] in
relation to the Revolt. Ever since the year 1853, a feud had existed in
the royal family, arising out of the polygamic troubles so frequent in
oriental countries. The king, instigated by Zeenat Mahal, wished to name
the child of his old age, Mirza Jumma Bukht, heir to the throne of
Akbar; but the British government insisted on recognising the superior
claims of an elder son, Mirza Fukhr-oo-deen. Strife and contest
immediately commenced, and never ceased until one obstacle was removed
from the path. Mirza Fukhr-oo-deen died in 1856, as alleged, of cholera,
but not without suspicion of foul play. From that time till the
beginning of the mutiny in the following year, the imperial palace was a
focus of intriguing. The sultana bent her whole energies towards
obtaining the heirship to the throne of the Moguls for her own son. She
was known to have declared that this object would be persistently and
steadily pursued, and to have opened many communications thereon with
the authorities at Calcutta. When, however, it was announced that a
grandson of the king should, after him, possess all that remained of
imperial power, her plans were at once dashed. It thenceforward became a
question with her whether, by an overturn of the English ‘raj,’ she
could obtain that which was denied to her by the government; and when
other sources of revolt and rebellion appeared, there was an
intelligible reason why she should encourage the insurgents. Nothing
came out at the trial so clear as to fix guilt unquestionably upon her;
but there remained on men’s minds a suspicion to which collateral
circumstances afforded much probability.
Transferring attention from Delhi to Rohilcund and the Hills, it may at
once be explained that little occurred during the month of February
requiring detailed notice. The time had not yet arrived when Sir Colin
Campbell could send strong columns to sweep away the rebels in that
quarter. Bareilly was still the head-quarters of a rebel force, which
ruled almost the whole of Rohilcund. Khan Bahadoor Khan, the
self-appointed chief, had still around him a large body of revolted
sepoys and insurgent retainers; and in the whole region between Oude on
the one side, and Delhi and Meerut on the other, very little was under
British control. The time, however, for making a demonstration in this
quarter was approaching. Among other military arrangements planned about
the middle of February, was the formation of a movable column at Meerut,
to be held in readiness to march anywhere at a short notice. It was to
consist of a squadron of Carabiniers, a wing of the 60th Rifles, a wing
of the Belooch battalion, the 1st Punjaub infantry, the Moultanee horse,
a field-battery, two 18-pounders, and one 8-inch howitzer. There was at
the same time at Looksar, near Roorkee, a small force under Captain
Brind, consisting of a squadron of Carabiniere, Hughes’s irregular
cavalry, detachments of Coke’s Rifles, of the Nusseree battalion, and of
the 3d Punjaub infantry, and a troop of horse-artillery. At Roorkee
another corps was to be formed, under Major Coke, to consist of Punjaub
regiments about to arrive. It was proposed that these three bodies—the
movable column at Meerut, Brind’s corps at Looksar, and Coke’s corps at
Roorkee—should ultimately form a Rohilcund field-force, under General
Penny. What was effected by means of this force, will come for notice in
a future page; little could be achieved until the commander-in-chief had
broken the strength of the enemy in Oude, now the great centre of
rebellion.
The hilly country in and around Kumaon, although too far removed from
the Jumna regions to be frequently engaged in the horrors of war, was
nevertheless occasionally made a battle-ground between hostile forces.
Early in February, Colonel M’Causland, commanding in Kumaon, formed a
camp at Huldwanee, to protect the Kumaon hills, and to clear the Barbur
and Turale districts of rebels. He found two formidable bodies of the
enemy threatening that region. One, under a leader named Fuzul Huq,
consisting of 4000 men and 6 guns, was encamped at Sunda, in a strong
position on the banks of the Sookhee river, about fifteen miles from
Huldwanee, on the Peleebheet road. The other, under Khali Khan,
consisting of 5000 men and 4 guns, was encamped at Churpurah, on the
Paha Nuddee, sixteen miles from Huldwanee, on the Bareilly road. So far
as could be judged, it appeared as if these 9000 men intended to make a
combined attack on Huldwanee, and then to force the hill-passes. To
encounter these enemies, M’Causland’s force was but small, consisting of
700 Goorkha infantry, 200 horse, and 2 field-guns; nevertheless he
resolved to confront them boldly. On the 9th of February he commenced a
movement intended to prevent the junction of the two hostile forces. In
the dead of the night, leaving his tents to be guarded by a few men in a
barricaded square called the Mundee, he marched out as quietly as
possible to the place occupied by Khali Khan’s army. He came up to them
at daybreak on the 10th, and found them encamped in a strong position;
with their rear and left protected by the Paha Nuddee, a small village
filled with infantry on their right flank, their front protected by
rough ground intersected with nullahs and long jungle-grass, and the
road commanded by four pieces of artillery. So completely did he
surprise them, that when his cavalry first appeared, the rebels thought
their allies under Fuzul Huq had arrived. Finding the enemy’s right
flank the best to attack, the colonel sent most of his men to that
point, covered by the fire of his two guns. The contest was sharp and
severe. In about an hour the Goorkhas had captured the enemy’s guns, cut
down every artilleryman serving them, and dislodged the enemy from the
village. Meanwhile the few horse made a gallant charge, repulsing a
superior body of the enemy’s cavalry, and taking a standard. The
colonel’s two guns worked immense execution among the enemy’s cavalry,
‘into which’ (to use the professional language of the commander) ‘they
poured shrapnel with beautiful precision and tremendous effect.’ The
victory was complete. The enemy lost their guns, ammunition,
standing-camp, baggage, 300 killed, and 600 wounded. The colonel, having
thus defeated nearly six times his number, returned to Huldwanee—his
gallant Goorkhas having marched thirty-four miles and fought a severe
battle in thirteen hours. It was deemed necessary to return at once,
lest their prolonged absence from Huldwanee should tempt Fuzul Huq,
whose army was not far distant, to make a dash on the camp and station.
Nynee Tal was deeply interested in all these movements. During February
it was hemmed in by the rebels on one side, and by the hill-snows on the
other. The enemy, deterred by the gallant force at Huldwanee, hoped to
penetrate to the little colony by a detour through the Kulleedongee
Pass. This hope, however, was not worth much to them; for the pass was
long and fatiguing; and near its top was a small body of Goorkhas, who,
with a few guns, were determined to make a stout resistance if any
attack were made.
The Punjaub and Sinde were nearly at peace. The few instances of
turbulence, or of military operation, may pass without record here.
In that vast range of country which has in so many chapters required
attention, comprising Rajpootana, Gujerat, Central India, the Mahratta
States, Bundelcund, and the Saugor territories, the month of February
exhibited the gradual strengthening of British columns sent up from
Bombay and Madras, and the success of numerous small engagements in
which the names of Rose, Roberts, Orr, Whitlock, Stuart, Steuart, and
other officers are concerned. Being small in themselves, these
engagements hardly need separate notice; but taken collectively, they
tended to assist the commander-in-chief’s plans towards the general
pacification of India.
The month of February witnessed the conclusion of a series of services
rendered by a small force under somewhat remarkable circumstances.
Mention has frequently been made of Captain Osborne, political agent at
Rewah, almost the only Englishman within a turbulent district.
Fortunately, the Rajahs of Rewah and Nagode remained faithful to the
British; they, with the aid of Osborne, formed a corps of such of their
native troops as they felt could be trusted; and this corps was placed
under Colonel Hinde for active service. It was November when the corps
was first organised; but, the troops being undisciplined, badly
equipped, and badly armed, and the arrangements for marching and camping
being very defective, it was the middle of December before the corps
started from the town of Rewah. The duty to be performed was to keep
open and safe the road from Rewah to Jubbulpoor (one of the great
highways of India), and to capture such forts by the way as were in
hostile hands. Imperfect as were the materials at his command, Colonel
Hinde nevertheless, between the middle of December and the middle of
February, captured six forts, forty guns, two mortars, and two
standards; rendered the great road to the Deccan secure; re-established
dâk and police bungalows; restored order in the Myhere territory;
annexed the small territory of the rebellious chieftains of
Bijeeragooghar; appointed tehsildars and police therein; and captured a
large number of turbulent rebels. The six forts taken were Kunchunpore,
Goonah, Myhere, Jokai, Khunwara, and Bijeeragooghar. These services
having been rendered, Captain Osborne recalled the corps to Rewah; and
the governor-general thanked both him and Colonel Hinde for what they
had effected in a troubled region, with very limited means. It is
pleasant—amid the treachery of so many ‘Pandies’ and ‘Singhs’—to read
that Osborne and Hinde had a good word to say for Dinbund Pandy, Lullaie
Singh, Sewgobind Pandy, Davy Singh, and Bisseshur Singh—Rewah and Nagode
native officers, who were both faithful and brave in the hour of need.
Brigadier Whitlock, with a Madras column, was rendering service in the
country between Nagpoor and Bundelcund. He had various skirmishes with
bands of rebels at Jubbulpoor and Sleemanabad; and when he had restored
something like order in that region, he moved off towards Cawnpore,
there to take part if necessary in the operations of the army of Oude.
Few Europeans in India had better reason than those at Saugor to welcome
the approach of some of their countrymen as deliverers. So far back as
the month of June, the officers, their ladies, and the civilians, had
been shut up in the fort by orders of Brigadier Sage, on account of the
suspicious symptoms presented by the 31st, 42d, and other native
regiments. There they remained throughout the whole of the autumn and
part of the winter, too strong to be seriously molested, and too well
supplied with food to suffer those privations which were so sadly
experienced at Lucknow. Sir Hugh Rose arrived with his force at Saugor
on the 3d of February, and liberated those who had so long been confined
within the fort. No battle was needed to effect this; for though the
garrison were almost entirely without reliable troops, they were not
besieged by any considerable force of the enemy. Rose, who had collected
a force with much difficulty from various quarters, prepared after the
relief of Saugor to attack numerous bands of rebels in that part of
India. He assaulted the strong fortress of Garra Kotah, at the
confluence of the Sonah and the Guddarree; he captured it, pursued and
cut up the enemy, and then marched towards Jhansi, where busy work
awaited him in the following month.
General Roberts, towards the close of February, was collecting a force
at and near Nuseerabad, for operations in that part of Rajpootana. He
went with the head-quarters of H.M. 95th from Deesa to Beaur, and thence
to Nuseerabad, where he arrived on the 22d. He was to be joined shortly
afterwards by the 72d Highlanders from Deesa, and by 200 of the Sinde
horse under Major Green; and when strengthened by other regiments,
especially a good body of cavalry, he intended to march towards Kotah, a
very strong fortress which had long been in the hands of a rebel
chieftain.
[Illustration:
Moulvies, or Mohammedan Religious Teachers.
]
The regions forming the central and southern portions of the Bombay
presidency were a little disturbed by fanatical Mohammedans, who, though
unable to bring any very large number of conspirators into their plan of
action, did nevertheless make many attempts to raise the green flag, the
symbol of Moslem supremacy. There were no mutinies of whole regiments,
however, or even companies of regiments. Indeed the instigators of
mischief were rather rioters than soldiers; and the authorities only
regarded these outbreaks seriously as sparks that might possibly kindle
inflammable materials elsewhere.
The Nizam’s country, generally peaceful on account of his fidelity to
the English, became a field of temporary struggle owing to the
insubordination of a minor chieftain, the Rajah of Shorapore. His small
territory, bounded on one side by the river Kistnah, occupied an angle
in the dominions of the Nizam. Wishing, perhaps, to rise from the rank
of a petty chieftain to one of greater power, he had for some time
displayed hostility towards the British. But his career now came to an
end. A force left Belgaum at the end of January, to advance to
Shorapore; another left Kulladghee for the same destination; while a
third advanced from Madras. The Nizam, at the same time, acting in
harmony with his prime minister and Colonel Davidson, issued a
proclamation denouncing as rebels any of his subjects who should assist
the chief of Shorapore. These various measures had the desired result;
the insurgents were dispersed, Shorapore seized, and the chief made
prisoner.
In reference to such occurrences as the one described in the last
paragraph, it may be observed that many of the residents, or British
representatives at the courts of native princes, exhibited a wisdom and
intrepidity which claim for them a rank by the side of the military
heroes whose names are much better known to the world. Such a one was
Colonel Davidson, British resident at the Nizam’s court at Hyderabad in
the Deccau. During many months, he, with a few hundred faithful troops,
maintained English prestige amongst a fanatic Mussulman population of
two or three hundred thousand men, who often threatened the handful of
British in the city. ‘Disaffected persons,’ a well-informed authority
has said, ‘thronged to the Nizam’s palace by day and by night, with
imprecations upon their lips against Europeans. It was impossible to
tell when mutiny might break out among the native soldiers; and it was
certain that the rabble were only awaiting their opportunity to glut
themselves with English blood. Yet amidst all this the British resident
never faltered or wavered; and by mere force of character he preserved
peace in the city and district, and succeeded in securing to our side
the Nizam and his minister Salar Jung. This Salar Jung was a young and
well-educated man, who for his friendship to the British was hated by
the Mussulmans.’ The position of this minister was almost as dangerous
as that of the resident; for if the attack of the 17th of July[140] had
succeeded, he would have shared the common fate of the British. Colonel
Davidson not only secured Hyderabad, but was subsequently enabled to
send a considerable cavalry force for service elsewhere.
Among other political arrangements of the month, was the termination of
a short governorship in the regions around Allahabad. On the 4th of
August, in the preceding year, after the Northwest Provinces had been
thrown into anarchy by the mutiny, a ‘lieutenant governorship of the
Central Provinces’ was established, and placed in the hands of Mr John
Peter Grant, one of the members of the Supreme Council at Calcutta. A
few weeks afterwards, on the 19th of September, some of the other
provinces in the Jumna regions were placed under a ‘chief-commissioner
of the Northwest Provinces.’ Both of these offices were abolished by the
governor-general in council, on the 9th of February; and Viscount
Canning, then at Allahabad, took under his immediate authority and
control the whole of the provinces lately placed under those officers.
He became in fact, though not in name, and for a temporary period,
governor of a presidency of which Allahabad was the capital. At or about
the same time, Meerut and Delhi were handed over to the
chief-commissioner of the Punjaub. Thus, all the political power between
Calcutta and the Afghan frontier being in the hands of Canning and
Lawrence, and all the military power in Sir Colin Campbell, it was hoped
that greater energy and precision would be thrown into the combined
operations.
Notes.
_Sir Colin Campbell’s Army of Oude._—On the 10th of February, as
stated in the text of this chapter, the commander-in-chief made a
formal announcement of the component elements of the army with which
he was about to enter Oude. These particulars we give here in a
note, as a permanent record of an interesting matter in the military
history of the Revolt. It must be clearly borne in mind, however,
that this army of Oude comprised only such troops as were at that
date under the immediate command of Sir Colin. Columns, corps, and
field-forces, under Franks, Seaton, Jung Bahadoor, Macgregor,
Windham, Van Cortlandt, Penny, M’Causland, Greathed, Roberts, Rose,
Steuart, Stuart, Whitlock, and other officers, were rendering active
or defensive services in various parts of India; and it depended on
the course of circumstances whether any and which of these could
assist in the grand operations against Lucknow.
‘_Head-quarters, Camp Cawnpore, Feb. 10._
‘The troops now in Oude, and those advancing into that province, are
formed into divisions and brigades, and staff-officers are attached
us follows; the whole being under the personal command of his
Excellency the Commander-in-chief.
‘Such appointments as now appear for the first time will take effect
from this date.
Artillery Division.
‘Staff.—Major-general Sir A. Wilson, K.C.B., Bengal Artillery,
commanding; Major E. B. Johnson, Bengal Artillery, Assistant
Adjutant-general; Lieutenant R. Biddulph, Royal Artillery,
Deputy-assistant-quartermaster-general; Lieutenant-colonel C. Hogge,
Bengal Artillery, Director of Artillery in the Ordnance Department;
Captain C. H. Barchard, 20th Regiment Native Infantry, Aid-de-camp;
Lieutenant H. G. Deedes, 60th Royal Rifles, Extra Aid-de-camp.
‘Brigade of Field-artillery.—Brigadier D. E. Wood, C.B., Royal
Horse-artillery; Lieutenant J. S. Frith, Bengal Horse-artillery,
Major of Brigade.—E troop Royal Horse-artillery; F Troop Royal
Horse-artillery; 1st Troop 1st Brigade Bengal Artillery; 2d Troop
1st Brigade Bengal Artillery; 2d Troop 3d Brigade Bengal Artillery;
3d Troop 3d Brigade Bengal Artillery; 3d Company 14th Battalion
Royal Artillery, and No. 20, Light Field-battery; 2d Company 3d
Battalion Bengal Artillery, and No. 12 Light Field-battery.
‘Brigade of Siege-artillery.—Brigadier G. R. Barker, C.B., Royal
Artillery; Lieutenant A. Bunny, Bengal Horse-artillery, Major of
Brigade.—3d Company 8th Battalion Royal Artillery; 6th Company 11th
Battalion Royal Artillery; 5th Company 12th Battalion Royal
Artillery; 5th Company 13th Battalion Royal Artillery; 4th Company
1st Battalion Bengal Artillery; 1st Company 5th Battalion Bengal
Artillery; 3d Company 5th Battalion Bengal Artillery; Detachment
Bengal Artillery recruits.
‘The Naval Brigade will form part of the division under Sir Archdale
Wilson, but will be under the immediate command of Captain W. Peel,
C.B., Royal Navy, and independent of the Brigade of Siege-artillery.
‘Engineer Brigade.—Brigadier R. Napier, Bengal Engineers,
Chief-engineer; Major of Brigade, Lieutenant H. Bingham, Veteran
Establishment, Brigade Quartermaster; Lieutenant-colonel H. D.
Harness, Royal Engineers, commanding Royal Engineers; Captain A.
Taylor, Bengal Engineers, commanding Bengal Engineers.—4th Company
Royal Engineers; 23d Company Royal Engineers; Head-quarters Bengal
Sappers and Miners; Punjaub Sappers and Miners; corps of Pioneers.
Cavalry Division.
‘Brigadier-general J. H. Grant, C.B., commanding; Captain W.
Hamilton, 9th Lancers, Deputy-assistant-adjutant-general;
Lieutenant F. S. Roberts, Bengal Horse-artillery,
Deputy-assistant-quartermaster-general; Captain the Hon. A. H. A.
Anson, her Majesty’s 84th Regiment, Aid-de-camp.
‘1st Brigade.—Brigadier A. Little, her Majesty’s 9th Lancers;
Captain H. A. Sarel, her Majesty’s 17th Lancers, Major of
Brigade.—Her Majesty’s 9th Lancers; 2d Battalion Military Train; 2d
Punjaub Cavalry; Detachment 5th Punjaub Cavalry; Wale’s Horse.
‘2d Brigade.—Brigadier W. Campbell, her Majesty’s 2d Dragoon Guards;
Captain H. Forbes, 1st Light Cavalry, Major of Brigade.—Her
Majesty’s 2d Dragoon Guards; her Majesty’s 7th (Queen’s Own)
Hussars; Volunteer Cavalry; Detachment 1st Punjaub Cavalry; Hodson’s
Horse.
1st Infantry Division.
‘Major-general Sir J. Outram, G.C.B., Bombay Army, commanding;
Captain D. S. Dodgson, 30th Native Infantry,
Deputy-assistant-adjutant-general; Lieutenant W. R. Moorsom,
her Majesty’s 52d Light Infantry,
Deputy-assistant-quartermaster-general; Lieutenant F. E. A.
Chamier, 34th Native Infantry, Aid-de-camp; Lieutenant
Hargood, 1st Madras Fusiliers, Extra Aid-de-camp.
‘1st Brigade.—Brigadier D. Russell, her Majesty’s 84th Regiment.—Her
Majesty’s 5th Fusiliers; her Majesty’s 84th Regiment; 1st Madras
Fusiliers.
‘2d Brigade.—Brigadier C. Franklyn, her Majesty’s 84th Regiment.—Her
Majesty’s 78th Highlanders; her Majesty’s 90th Light Infantry;
Regiment of Ferozpore.
2d Infantry Division.
‘Captain R. C. Stewart, her Majesty’s 35th Regiment,
Deputy-assistant-adjutant-general; Captain D. C. Shute,
Deputy-assistant-quartermaster-general.
‘3d Brigade.—Brigadier W. Hamilton, her Majesty’s 78th Highlanders,
commanding; Captain G. N. Fendall, her Majesty’s 53d Regiment, Major
of Brigade.—Her Majesty’s 34th Regiment; her Majesty’s 38th
Regiment; her Majesty’s 53d Regiment.
‘4th Brigade.—Brigadier the Hon. A. Hope, her Majesty’s 93d
Highlanders; Captain J. H. Cox, her Majesty’s 75th Regiment, Major
of Brigade.—Her Majesty’s 42d Highlanders; her Majesty’s 93d
Highlanders; 4th Punjaub Rifles.
3d Infantry Division.
‘Brigadier-general R. Walpole, Rifle Brigade, commanding;
Captain C. A. Beerwell, 71st Regiment Native Infantry,
Deputy-assistant-adjutant-general; Captain T. A. Carey, 17th
Regiment Native Infantry, Deputy-assistant-quarter-master-general.
‘5th Brigade.—Brigadier Douglas, her Majesty’s 79th Highlanders.—Her
Majesty’s 23d Fusiliers; her Majesty’s 79th Highlanders; 1st Bengal
Fusiliers.
‘6th Brigade.—Brigadier A. H. Horsford, Rifle Brigade.—2d Battalion
Rifle Brigade; 3d Battalion Rifle Brigade; 2d Punjaub Infantry.
‘Captain C. C. Johnson, Deputy-assistant-quartermaster-general, will
be attached to army head-quarters. Deputy-judge Advocate-general to
the Force.—Captain A. C. Robertson, Her Majesty’s 8th (the King’s)
Regiment. Field Paymaster.—Captain F. C. Tombs, 18th Regiment Native
Infantry. Baggage Master.—Lieutenant J. Morland, 1st Bengal
Fusiliers. Provost Marshal.—Captain A. C. Warner, 7th Light Cavalry.
Postmaster.—Major C. Apthorp, 41st Native Infantry. Superintending
Surgeon.—J. C. Brown, M.B., Bengal Horse-artillery. Field
Surgeon.—Surgeon Wilkie. Medical Storekeeper.—Assistant-surgeon
Corbyn, M.D.
‘All staff appointments connected with Major-general Sir J. Outram’s
force not specified above will hold good until the junction of that
force with army head-quarters.
‘All appointments not filled up in the above order are to be
temporarily provided for under the orders of officers commanding
divisions and brigades.
* * * * *
‘The following is the General Staff of the army advancing into Oude:
‘Commander-in-chief.—His Excellency General Sir Colin Campbell,
G.C.B., Her Majesty’s service.
‘Military Secretary to Commander-in-chief.—Major A. Alison,
her Majesty’s service (wounded). Acting Secretary and
Aid-de-camp.—Colonel A. C. Sterling, C.B., her Majesty’s
service. Aid-de-camp.—Captain Sir D. Baird, 98th foot.
Aid-de-camp.—Lieutenant F. M. Alison, 72d Highlanders.
Aid-de-camp.—Captain W. T. Forster, 18th foot. Commandant at
head-quarters, and interpreter.—Captain J. Metcalfe, Bengal
infantry. Surgeon.—Staff-surgeon J. J. Clifford, M.D., her Majesty’s
service. Chief of the Staff.—Major-general W. R. Mansfield, her
Majesty’s service. Deputy-assistant Adjutant-general to the Chief of
the Staff.—Captain R. J. Hope Johnstone, Bombay infantry.
Aid-de-camp to the Chief of the Staff.—Captain C. Mansfield, 33d
foot (wounded). Acting Aid-de-camp.—Lieutenant D. Murray, 64th foot.
Deputy-adjutant-general of the Army.—Major H. W. Norman, Bengal
infantry. Assistant Adjutant-general of the Army.—Captain D. M.
Stewart, Bengal infantry. Deputy-adjutant-general, her
Majesty’s troops.—Colonel the Hon. W. L. Pakenham, C.B.
Assistant-quartermaster-general of the Army.—Captain G. Allgood,
Bengal infantry. Deputy-assistant-quartermaster-general.—Captain C.
C. Johnson, Bengal infantry. Acting quarter-master-general of her
Majesty’s Forces.—Captain C. F. Seymour, 84th foot. Judge
Advocate-general.—Lieutenant-Colonel K. Young, Bengal infantry.
Deputy Judge Advocate-general.—Captain A. C. Robertson, 8th foot.
Principal Commissariat Officer.—Captain C. M. Fitzgerald Bengal
infantry. Commissary of Ordnance.—Captain W. T. Brown, Bengal
artillery. Field Paymaster.—Captain F. C. Tombs, Bengal infantry.
Provost Marshal.—Captain A. C. Warner, Bengal cavalry. Baggage
Master.—Lieutenant J. Morland, Bengal infantry. Principal Medical
Officer, Queen’s Troops.—Dr J. C. Tice. Superintending
Surgeon.—Surgeon J. C. Brown, Bengal artillery.’
* * * * *
_Mohammedan Rebel Leaders._—Whatever may have been the proximate
causes of the Revolt, it is certain that the rebel leaders were
found relatively more numerous among the Mohammedans than among the
Hindoos. They talked more frequently and fiercely about fighting for
the faith; and they dragged into the meshes of a net many Hindoos
who would otherwise have remained free from treasonable
entanglement. Several native proclamations have been noticed in
earlier chapters of this work; and we now present another,
illustrative of Mussulman intrigues. It purports to come from Prince
Mirza Mahomed Feroze Shah, and was dated the 3d of Rujub 1274,
corresponding to the 17th of February 1858:
‘Be it known to all the Hindoo and Mohammedan inhabitants of India
that to rule over a country is one of the greatest blessings from
Heaven, and it is denied to a tyrant or an oppressor. Within the
last few years the British commenced to oppress the people in India
under different pleas, and contrived to eradicate Hindooism and
Mohammedanism, and to make all the people embrace Christianity. The
Almighty Power observing this, diverted the hearts of the people to
a different course, and now every one has turned to annihilate the
English, and they have nearly done so. Through avarice and ambition,
the British have shewn some resistance, though in vain. Through
Divine mercy, that will in a short time be reduced to nothing. Let
this also be known to all the Hindoos and Mussulmans, that the
English bear the bitterest enmity towards them. Should they again
become predominant in this country—which, God forbid—they will
destroy religion, property, and even the life of every one. A brief
sketch of the views and intentions of the Supreme Court and
Parliament is hereby given, in order to warn the people that they
should get rid of habits of negligence, and strive in unity to
destroy the infidels. When the Indian troops mutinied to save their
religion, and killed all infidels in several places, the wise men of
England were of opinion that had the British authorities in India
kept the following things in view, the mutiny would never have
broken out: 1. They should have destroyed the race of the former
kings and nobles. 2. They should have burnt all books of every other
religion. 3. They should not have left even a biswa of ground to any
of the native rulers. 4. They should have intermarried among the
natives, so that after a short time all would have become one race.
5. They should not have taught the use of artillery to the natives.
6. They should not have left arms among the natives. 7. They should
not have employed any native until he consented to eat and drink
with Europeans. 8. The mosques and Hindoo temples should not have
been allowed to stand. 9. Neither Moulvies nor Brahmins should have
been allowed to preach. 10. The several cases brought into the
courts should have been decided according to English laws. 11.
English priests should have performed all nuptial ceremonies of the
natives according to their English customs. 12. All prescriptions of
the Hindoo and Mussulman physicians should have been prohibited, and
English medicines furnished instead. 13. Neither Hindoo nor
Mussulman fakeers should have been allowed to convert people without
the permission of English missionaries. 14. European doctors only
should have been allowed to assist native women in childbed.—But the
authorities did not take means to introduce these measures. On the
contrary, they encouraged the people: so much so, that they at last
broke out. Had the authorities kept in view the maxims above alluded
to, the natives would have remained quiet for thousands of years.
These are now the real intentions of the English; but all of us must
conjointly exert ourselves for the protection of our lives,
property, and religion, and to root out the English from this
country. Thus we shall, indeed, through Divine mercy, gain a great
victory over them. I (the prince) now draw a brief sketch of my
travels, and I hope the people will pay attention to what I say.
Before the destruction of the English, I went on a pilgrimage to
Mecca, and on my return I observed that the English were in a bad
and hazardous position. I therefore offered thanks to God, because
it is in my nature to follow the principles of my religion and to
promulgate justice. I persuaded many at Delhi to raise a religious
war; I then hastened towards Gwalior, where the majority of the
military officers promised to kill the English and take up my cause.
A small portion of the Gwalior army accompanied me. I had not the
least intention to announce war before I had everything in order;
but the army became very enthusiastic, and commenced fighting with
the enemy (the English). Though our army was then but a handful, and
that of the enemy very large in numbers, still we fought manfully;
and, though apparently we were defeated, in reality we were
victorious over our enemy, for we killed 1000 of them. Since then I
have been collecting as well as exhorting the people. I have exerted
myself in procuring ammunition up to this day, now four months since
the commencement. Thank God, an army of 150,000 old and new men are
now bound by a solemn oath to embrace my cause. I have collected
considerable treasury and munitions of war in many places, and in a
short time I shall clear the country of all infidels. Since the real
purpose of this war is to save religion, let every Hindoo and
Mussulman render assistance to the utmost. Those that are old should
offer their prayers. The rich, but old, should assist our sacred
warriors with money. Those in perfect health, as well as young,
should attend in person. But all those who are in the service of
either Mirza Birjish Kadur Bahadoor in Lucknow and of Khan Bahadoor
Khan at Bareilly should not venture out to join us, for these rulers
are themselves using their best endeavours to clear the country of
all infidels. All who join us should do so solely with a view of
promulgating their religion, not with that of worldly avarice. Thus
victory will certainly smile upon us; then distinguished posts will
be conferred on the people at large. The delay in defeating the
English has been caused by people killing innocent children and
women without any permission whatever from the leaders, whose
commands were not obeyed. Let us all avoid such practices, and then
proclaim a sacred war. Lastly, the great and small in this campaign
will be equal, for we are waging a religious war. I (the prince) do
now proclaim a sacred war, and exhort all, according to the tenets
of their religion, to exert themselves. The rest I leave to God. We
shall certainly conquer the English, consequently I invite the
people again to my assistance.—Printed at Bareilly, by Shaick Nisar
Ally, under the supervision of Moulvie Mahomed Kootoob Shah.’
[Illustration]
-----
Footnote 137:
‘I have not as yet said one word of the two other camels which were
appointed to carry my tent. Under the eaves of that tent had gathered
a strange population—they came as sparrows come to a house, without
the knowledge or consent of the owner; but the analogy fails in other
respects except noise, because the natives require to be paid. There
are two men who belong to the tent-post, as in England certain
gentlemen belong to horses; then there is a man to carry water, who
belongs to a large skin to contain that liquid; next there is a
cleaner or sweeper; then there is a khitmutgar or servant, and there
is his and my master, one Simon, “an assizes man” he says himself, but
he only means that he is a follower of St Francisco d’Assisi; and then
follow camel-keepers, and horse-keepers, and grass-cutters; so that I
feel very much as Sancho did in his government of Barataria. On the
morning of the 27th, soon after midnight, commenced a tumult in camp,
the like of which I never heard before; first began a loud tapping of
all the tent-pegs, as if an army of gigantic woodpeckers were
attacking us. This was caused by the kélassies, or tent-men, loosening
the tent-pegs, so that they might be drawn easily from the ground when
the word to march was given. Then followed a most hideous grumbling,
growling, roaring noise, as if many thousands of aldermen were choking
all at once, only that it was kept up for hours; that was caused by
the camels objecting to the placement of the smallest article on their
backs, and continuing their opposition till they stalked off with
their loads. Then came the trumpeting of elephants, the squeaking of
bullock cart-wheels, the hum and buzz of thousands of voices, and at
last the first bugle-call, which announced that the time for turning
out had arrived. Daylight was still striving with the moonlight for
mastery, and casting a sort of neutral tint over the camping-ground,
on which blazed the flames of many watch-fires, when the heads of our
columns began to cross the bridge of boats at Cawnpore. There was but
a waste of baked earth where, at sunset, had been a camp—only a few
tents belonging to the commander-in-chief and the head-quarters’
staff, were left behind; and for hours the bridge echoed to the tramp
of men and horse, the rumble of artillery, and the tread of
innumerable elephants, and camels, and oxen. The Ganges is at this
season at its lowest, and the bridges are not, I should think, more
than 300 yards long; one is used for the exit, the other for the
entrance of Cawnpore. They lead to a level sandy plain, overflowed by
the Ganges for several hundred yards in the rainy season, on which
there were now moving, as far as the eye could reach, the strings of
baggage animals and the commissariat carts of the army, with their
fantastic followers.’
Footnote 138:
‘COPY OF CHARGES PREFERRED AGAINST MAHOMED BAHADOOR SHAH, EX-KING OF
DELHI.
‘1. For that he, being a pensioner of the British government in India,
did at Delhi, at various times between the 10th of May and 1st of
October 1857, encourage, aid, and abet Mahomed Bukht Khan, Subadar of
the regiment of artillery, and divers others, non-commissioned
officers and soldiers, unknown, of the East India Company’s army, in
the crimes of mutiny and rebellion against the state.
‘2. For having, at Delhi, at various times between the 10th of May and
1st of October 1857, encouraged, aided, and abetted Mirza Mogul, his
own son, a subject of the British government in India, and divers
other unknown inhabitants of Delhi and of the Northwest provinces of
India, also subjects of the said British government, to rebel and wage
war against the state.
‘3. For that he, being a subject of the British government in India,
and not regarding the duty of his allegiance, did at Delhi, on the
11th of May 1857, or thereabouts, as a false traitor against the
state, proclaim and declare himself the reigning king and sovereign of
India, and did then and there traitorously seize and take unlawful
possession of the city of Delhi; and did, moreover, at various times
between the 10th of May and 1st of October 1857, as such false traitor
aforesaid, treasonably conspire, consult, and agree with Mirza Mogul,
his son, and with Mahomed Bukht Khan, subadar of the regiment of
artillery, and divers other false traitors unknown, to raise, levy,
and make insurrection, rebellion, and war against the state; and,
further to fulfil and perfect his treasonable design of overthrowing
and destroying the British government in India, did assemble armed
forces at Delhi, and send them forth to fight and wage war against the
said British government.
‘4. For that he, at Delhi, on the 16th of May 1857, or thereabouts,
did, within the precincts of the palace at Delhi, feloniously cause
and become accessory to the murder of 49 persons, chiefly women and
children, of European and mixed European descent; and did, moreover,
between the 10th of May and the 1st of October 1857, encourage and
abet divers soldiers and others in murdering European officers and
other English subjects, including women and children, both by giving
and promising such murderers service, advancement, and distinction;
and further, that he issued orders to different native rulers, having
local authority in India, to slay and murder Christians and English
people whenever and wherever found in their territories; the whole or
any part of such conduct being a heinous offence under the provisions
of Act 16, of 1857, of the Legislative Council of India.
‘FREDERICK J. HARRIOTT, MAJOR,
‘_Deputy judge-advocate-general, Government Prosecutor_.
‘_Jan. 5, 1858._’
Footnote 139:
Chap. xx., p. 357.
Footnote 140:
See chap. xvii., p. 291.
[Illustration:
Goorkhas in their native country, Nepaul.
]
CHAPTER XXV.
FINAL CONQUEST OF LUCKNOW: MARCH.
The month at length arrived which was to witness the great siege of
Lucknow, the capture of that important city, and the commencement of a
re-establishment of British influence in Oude. The city which, excepting
a small portion near and around the Residency, had been wholly in the
hands of the rebels since the beginning of July, was to revert to the
Company’s possession in March, by a series of military operations which
it is the purpose of this chapter to trace.
The extraordinary events in that city have been too frequently dwelt on
in past chapters to render any lengthened notice here necessary. The
reader will only have to bear in mind that Lawrence maintained the
Residency intact until his death early in July; that Inglis continued
the defence until September; that Outram and Havelock held the same
position until November; and that from thence to March the city was
wholly in the hands of the enemy—the Alum Bagh alone being held by
Outram. Concerning the buildings and general arrangement of Lucknow, it
may be useful here to freshen the recollection by a few descriptive
details. The city lies on the right bank of the river Goomtee, which
there runs nearly from northwest to southeast. All the buildings on the
opposite or left bank of the river are merely suburban. After winding
round the buildings called the Martinière and the Dil Koosha, the river
changes its course towards the south. The southeastern extremity of the
city is bounded by a canal, which enters the Goomtee near the
Martinière. There is no defined boundary on the southwest, west, or
northwest, the urban giving way to the rural in the same gradual way as
in most English towns. Between the crowded or commercial part of the
city, and the river, extends—or extended at the time of the Revolt (for
it will be convenient to adopt the past tense in this description)—a
long series of palaces and gardens, occupying collectively an immense
area, and known by the several names of the Taree Kothee, Fureed Buksh,
Pyne Bagh, Chuttur Munzil, Kaiser Bagh, Shah Munzil, Motee Mehal, Shah
Nujeef, Secunder Bagh, &c. Still further in the same line, were the
buildings once famous as the Residency, the Muchee Bhowan, the great
Emanbarra, and the Moosa Bagh. In short, for a distance of at least five
miles, there was a string of royal or governmental buildings along the
right bank of the river, forming a belt between it and the poorer or
denser streets of the city. There was a stone bridge beyond the Muchee
Bhowan, an iron bridge near the Residency, and—in peaceful times—a
bridge of boats near the Motee Mehal. As to the general aspect of the
city, when seen from a distance, writers have been at a loss for similes
applicable to it, owing chiefly to the vast space over which the
buildings are dotted. ‘If,’ in the quaint words of one writer, ‘Clapham
were overrun by a Mohammedan conqueror, who stuck up domes, cupolas, and
minarets on half the meeting-houses and mansions; and if that pleasant
suburb, when all the trees are green, were spread for eighteen or twenty
miles over a dead level surface—the aspect it would present might in
some degree give one a notion of Lucknow.’
The city, in the interval between November and March, had been fortified
by the rebels in great strength. Although not enclosed like Delhi by a
fortified wall, its many square miles of area, full of narrow streets
and high houses, and occupied by an enormous military force in addition
to the ordinary population, constituted a formidable stronghold in
itself. But the rebels did not neglect the usual precautions of
defensive warfare. Rightly judging that the English commander would
avoid a hand-to-hand contest in the streets, and would direct his attack
towards the southeastern suburb, they spared no labour in strengthening
that side of the city. In considering their plan of fortification, they
treated the courts and buildings of the Kaiser Bagh as a sort of
citadel, and interposed a triple series of obstacles between it and the
besiegers. First, exterior of the three, was a line of defence extending
from the river to a building known as Banks’s house, once occupied by
Major Banks; the canal formed the wet ditch of this line, and within the
canal was a rampart or elevated earthwork. The second defence consisted
of an earthwork beginning at the river-side near the Motee Mehal, the
Mess-house, and the Emanbarra. The third or interior defence was the
principal rampart of the Kaiser Bagh itself. All these lines consisted
of well-constructed earthen parapets or ridges, fronted by wide and deep
ditches, and strengthened at intervals by bastions. Not relying wholly
on these formidable lines, the enemy had loopholed and fortified almost
every house and enclosure, constructed strong counter-guards in front of
the gateways, and placed isolated bastions, stockades, and traverses
across the principal streets. The three lines of defence all abutted at
one end on the river Goomtee, and at the other on the great street or
road called the Huzrutgunje; which street was among the principal of
those loopholed and bastioned. It was estimated that the enemy defended
their works with nearly 100 guns and mortars. The insurgent troops were
variously computed at 40,000 to 80,000 in number; the estimate could not
be a precise one, because it was impossible to determine how many
peasants from the country or desperate characters from the city joined
the regular sepoys. There is, however, reason to believe that, at the
beginning of March, the city contained 30,000 revolted sepoys, 50,000
volunteers and armed retainers of chieftains, and an ordinary city
population of no less than 300,000 souls. It was a terrible thought that
a city should be bombarded containing so large a number of living
beings; but, as one of the stern necessities of the war, it was
imperative. The chieftains of Oude, and the revolted sepoys of the
Company’s army, were there in great number; and until they were subdued,
nothing could be effected towards the pacification of this part of
India.
It may not be out of place here to notice a few of the individuals who,
during the interregnum in Oude, assumed sovereign or governing power.
The newly set up king was a boy of eight or ten years old, a son of the
deposed king living at that time under surveillance at Calcutta. As a
boy, he was a puppet in the hands of others. The prime mover in all the
intrigues was his mother, the Begum Huzrut Mehal, who professed to be
regent during his minority, and to be assisted by a council of state.
She was a woman of much energy of character, and conducted public
affairs in an apartment of the Kaiser Bagh. Morally she was tainted in
full measure with oriental vices. Like Catherine of Russia she raised
one of her paramours, Mummoo Khan, to the office of chief judge, and did
not scruple openly to acknowledge her relations towards him. “While
executing the Begum’s commands in all that related to the management of
the newly formed government, he enriched himself at the expense of the
people generally. The chief minister was one Shirreff-u-Dowlah, and the
generalissimo Hissamut-u-Dowlah; but Mummoo Khan, held up by courtly
favour, had sources of power superior to both. Another notability was a
Moulvie or Mussulman fanatic who, though professing allegiance to the
boy-king of Oude, was suspected of aiming at the throne himself. Most of
the officers of the government purchased their places by large gifts to
the Begum or her favourite, knowing that they would obtain an ample
return during the anarchy of the period. The eunuchs of the royal
palaces held, nominally if not really, military commands. The whole city
of Lucknow, it is quite evident, was a hideous mass of intrigue, in
which the various members of the royal family sought how best they could
obtain power and wealth at the expense of the bulk of the people; while
their ministers and officers were parasitical just so far as might be
subservient to their own interests. The trading classes generally had
very little reason to rejoice at the temporary cessation of the British
‘raj.’ The Begum and the Moulvie leader were regarded as the chief
instruments in the opposition to the British. Every measure was resorted
to that could raise the fanaticism of the native population. The
English, and especially their Sikh allies, were represented as
systematically murdering all who fell into their hands. On one occasion,
shortly before the arrival of Sir Colin, the Begum rode through the
streets of the city on an elephant, as one might imagine our Elizabeth
appearing before her troops at Tilbury; and she used all her arts to
induce the several chieftains to make her cause theirs.
These preliminaries settled, the narrative may be proceeded with. How
the troops under the commander-in-chief approached Lucknow in February,
and what were the components of the army of Oude, in generals and
soldiers, the last chapter shewed.
When, on the 1st of March, Sir Colin Campbell was within a few miles of
Lucknow, in his camp at Buntara, he fully considered all the information
obtainable up to that time concerning the defences of the city. One
result of the inquiry, was to convince him that a necessity would arise
for operating from both sides of the Goomtee river, whenever the actual
assault should take place.[141] This would be necessary, or at least
desirable, because such a course would enable him to enfilade (that is,
attack laterally or at the extremities) many of the enemy’s newly
constructed works; and because he would thus be able to cut off the
enemy from their external sources of supply. It is true that he could
not hope wholly to surround a city which, with its fortified suburbs,
had a circuit of little less than twenty miles; still he would make an
important approach towards that condition by cannonading from both sides
of the river. One of his earliest preparations, therefore, had relation
to the means of crossing the river; and to this end his engineers were
busily engaged in fitting casks so that they might be placed across the
river as a floating-bridge. The former bridge of boats, opposite some of
the palaces, had been removed by the insurgents; while the iron and
stone bridges were well watched by them.
On the 2d, Sir Colin marched at daybreak from his camp at Buntara,
diverged from the road to the Alum Bagh, and took that which went near
the Jelalabad fort towards the eastern margin of the suburbs. With a
portion only of his army, he advanced to the Dil Koosha, the palace and
park at the easternmost extremity of the city. The chief officers with
him at the time of this advance were Generals Lugard, Adrian Hope, Hope
Grant, Little, and Archdale Wilson. His main object at first, with a
force of five or six thousand men, was to march to such a spot, near the
Dil Koosha, as would enable him to form a camp just beyond reach of the
enemy’s guns; and to protect his enormous siege-train as it gradually
arrived, until the time was come for commencing active operations. Not
only the siege-train, but the countless appendages of an Indian army,
would equally require protection during its passage from Buntara to the
Dil Koosha. Mr Russell, who accompanied this expedition in person, says
that no language can correctly convey an idea of the vastness in the
number of elephants, camels, oxen, horses, camp-followers, and vehicles
that daily demanded the commander-in-chief’s attention at this period.
‘Who really can bring before his mind’s eye a train of baggage-animals
twenty-five miles long, a string of sixteen thousand camels, a
siege-train park covering a space of four hundred by four hundred yards,
with twelve thousand oxen attached to it, and a following of sixty
thousand non-combatants?’ Even the doolies or litter-carriages for
wounded men constituted a formidable item. To each company of a regiment
there were ten doolies, and to each dooly were six coolies or native
porters: thus there were nearly five hundred dooly-carriers for each
average regiment; and even with this large supply, if the sick and
wounded in any one regiment exceeded eighty men, there would be more
than the coolies could properly attend to.
The force with which Sir Colin started from Buntara brought a few guns
only. These were dragged along the centre of the line of route; the
infantry were on either side of them, the cavalry and horse-artillery
outside all, and the baggage in the rear. Each soldier took a small
quantity of food with him. The march was through a flat well-cultivated
country, past the Jelalabad fort, but a mile or so distant from the Alum
Bagh. The skirmishers at the head of the column, as they approached the
Dil Koosha, found a body of insurgent troopers watching their progress.
When the column began to close on the advance-guard, the enemy opened
fire with several guns which were in position in strong bastions along
the line of canal—the outermost of the three lines of defence before
adverted to. This fire was heavy and well sustained. It was not
difficult to capture the Dil Koosha itself; but Sir Colin’s troops were
much annoyed by the enemy’s fire over the open country, until they could
secure the Dil Koosha and the Mahomed Bagh as advanced pickets, with
heavy guns placed in battery to oppose the enemy’s artillery. This once
effected, a secure base for further operations was obtained, with the
right resting on the river. It was a good day’s work, not in conquest,
but in the preparations for conquest.
When Sir Colin came to reconnoitre the enemy’s position, he found that
the new lines of defence, constructed since November, were vast and well
planned. He further saw that no immediate attack could be successfully
made upon them by infantry, without such a sacrifice of life as he had
determined if possible to avoid. To fight with artillery, before sending
in his foot-soldiers to fight, was his plan; and he now at once sent
back a messenger to the camp at Buntara, for the rest of the troops and
heavy siege-artillery to advance without delay. All during the following
night was the road from Buntara to the Dil Koosha filled with an
apparently endless train of soldiers, guns, commissariat-carts, beasts
of burden and of draught, and camp-followers—ready to swell the large
number already at the last-named place. This train was protected on
either side by cavalry and horse artillery, ready to dash out against
any of the enemy that should threaten interruption.
During the whole day on the 3d, the operations consisted chiefly in this
bringing forward of guns and bodies of troops to positions necessary to
be occupied when the regular siege began. When the remainder of the
siege-train had arrived, and also General Walpole’s division, Sir
Colin’s position embraced all the open ground on the southeastern margin
of the city, with his right flank resting on the Goomtee, and his left
in the direction of the Alum Bagh. The Alum Bagh and the Jelalabad fort
were both occupied by portions of his troops, and the country between
them was controlled by Hodson’s Irregular Horse; while a strong brigade
of cavalry, under Brigadier W. Campbell, swept the suburbs northwest of
the Alum Bagh. By this arrangement, almost the entire southern half of
the city was invested by his forces. The Dil Koosha was head-quarters,
surrounded by the tents in which the soldiers took their few brief hours
of repose. The palace, built in an Italian style, still retained much of
the splendour belonging to it in more peaceful days, when it was the
‘Heart’s Delight’ of the sensual monarch; but now it was well guarded by
42d Highlanders, ready to grapple with princelings and sepoys at any
moment. From the roof of this palace could be seen the chief buildings
of the city, as well as the vast defensive preparations which the enemy
had made. The sepoys in the Martinière maintained a rifle-fire against
such of the British as made their appearance on the flat roof of the Dil
Koosha; but the distance was too great to render the fire dangerous.
The operations of the 4th were a sequel to those of the 3d—not an actual
commencement of the siege, but a furtherance of the arrangements
necessary to render the siege successful. The camp was extended from the
Dil Koosha to Bibiapore, a house and enclosure a little further down the
right bank of the river. From the glimpses obtained by the skirmishers
and pickets, and from the information brought in by spies, it was
ascertained that many of the inhabitants, terrified at the formidable
preparations for the siege, were fleeing from the city on the opposite
side; and that the ‘authorities’ were endeavouring to check this flight,
wishing the inhabitants to fight for their property and their lives
within the city itself. There were intelligible reasons for this on both
sides. The citizens, whether their love for their native royal family
was great or small, had little inclination to sacrifice their own
personal interests to that sentiment; while, on the other hand, the
rebel leaders cared not how many townsmen were ruined, so long as the
privileges and profits of government remained with themselves, rather
than reverting to the British.
It was on the 5th that General Franks joined the commander-in-chief,
with that corps which now became the fourth division of the army of
Oude. He had fought his way half across the province, from the Jounpoor
frontier, defeating many bodies of rebels on the way, and arriving at
Lucknow precisely at the time which had been agreed on. Jung Bahadoor
and his large Nepaulese army did not arrive at the time specified: a
want of punctuality which disturbed both the plans and the equanimity of
Sir Colin. The components of the army of Oude, as laid down by the
commander-in-chief on the 10th of February, were enumerated in a note at
the end of the last chapter. At present, on the 5th of March, when
Franks had arrived, the army before Lucknow consisted approximately of
the following numbers of troops—First division of infantry, under
Outram, about 5000 strong; second, under Lugard, 5400; third, under
Walpole, 4300; fourth, under Franks, 4800; cavalry, under Hope Grant and
other commanders, distributed among the infantry divisions; artillery,
including the naval brigade, 1100; and engineers, 1700. The army of Oude
was often said to consist of 30,000 troops, of whom 18,000 were British
and the rest native; but such an estimate was worth little unless the
exact day be named to which it applied. The army varied both by arrivals
and departures.
The portion of the siege-plan connected with the left bank of the river
had never been lost sight of during the preparatory operations on the
right. While the infantry, cavalry, artillery, and commissariat were
busily engaged in camping near the Dil Koosha, the engineers were
collecting the casks, fascines of fagots, ropes, and timbers, necessary
for forming a bridge, or rather two bridges, across the Goomtee, at some
point below where the enemy were in greatest force. The spot selected
was near head-quarters at Bibiapore, where the river was about forty
yards wide. The enemy, uneasy at the proceedings of the engineers,
gradually assembled in considerable numbers on the opposite bank; but as
the British brought up guns to oppose them, the engineering works
proceeded without much molestation. These bridges exemplified some of
the contrivances which military commanders are accustomed to adopt, in
the course of their onerous duties. The groundwork of each was a
collection of empty beer-casks, lashed by ropes to timber cross-pieces,
and floated off one by one to their positions; a firm roadway of
planking was afterwards fixed on the top of the whole range from end to
end. Firm indeed must the construction necessarily have been; for
troopers on their horses, heavy guns and mortars, ammunition-wagons, and
commissariat carts, all would have to pass over these bridges, secure so
far as possible from accident to man or beast.
To Sir James Outram was intrusted the command of that portion of the
army which was to cross by these bridges of casks, and operate against
the city from the left bank of the Goomtee. This gallant officer had
been in and near the Alum Bagh for a period of just one hundred days,
from November to March, defending himself successfully against numerous
attacks made on him by the enemy, as narrated in former chapters. It was
right that he should now have the most important command under Sir
Colin. He took his departure from the Alum Bagh—leaving that important
post, which he had so long and so well defended, to the care of
Brigadier Franklyn and of the 5th and 78th Queen’s regiments of foot.
The force intrusted to him consisted of Walpole’s division of infantry,
together with regiments and detachments from other divisions.[142]
Franks with his division took Walpole’s place near the Dil Koosha. The
plan of attack agreed upon was, that Outram, after crossing the Goomtee,
should advance up the left bank; while the troops in position at the Dil
Koosha were to remain at rest until it should have become apparent that
the first line of the enemy’s works, or the rampart running along the
canal and abutting on the Goomtee, had been turned. Sir James, arriving
at the Dil Koosha from the Alum Bagh, effected his crossing safely on
the 6th, and pitched his camp for the night on the left bank of the
river, near the race-course. It was a formidable burden for the bridges
to bear, comprising, besides the infantry and cavalry, thirty guns, and
a large train of baggage and ammunition animals; nevertheless the
floating fabrics bore up well, and fully answered their intended
purpose. English troops of the line, Highlanders, lancers, hussars,
dragoons, artillery, engineers, commissariat, horses, oxen, camels,
elephants—all passed safely over, and speedily fell into orderly array
on the other side of the river. This was, of course, not done without a
little fighting. The enemy could not be blind to the proceeding, nor to
the consequences likely to result from it. There was skirmishing in
front of the Chukkur Walla Kothee, or Yellow House, a circular building
on the left bank of the river; and there was much prancing about of
leading personages who hastily came out of the city; but nothing
disturbed Sir James from securely encamping at night.
While Outram was thus crossing the river on the 6th, Sir Colin remained
simply on the defensive near the Dil Koosha, deferring all active
operations until the subsidiary force had got into fighting order on the
left bank. The enemy maintained a continuous fire from the Martinière;
but the gunnery was not good, and very little mischief was occasioned.
One of the most striking circumstances connected with the position and
proceedings of the commander-in-chief was that he _carried the electric
telegraph with him_ from camp to camp, from post to post. Chiefly
through the energy of Lieutenant Patrick Stewart, poles were set up and
wires extended wherever Sir Colin went. Calcutta, Allahabad, Cawnpore,
Buntara, and the Alum Bagh, could all communicate instantly; and now a
wire made its appearance through a drawing-room window at the Dil Koosha
itself, being stretched over a row of poles along the line of route
which the commander-in-chief and his troops had followed. Nay, the wires
even followed Outram over the river, and made their appearance—for the
first time in the history of Oude—on the left bank. No sooner did Sir
Colin advance a few miles, than Stewart followed him with poles and
wires, galvanic batteries and signalling apparatus—daring all dangers,
conquering all difficulties, and setting up a talking-machine close to
the very enemy themselves. It may almost literally be said that,
wherever he lay down his head at night, Sir Colin could touch a handle,
and converse with Lord Canning at Allahabad before he went to sleep. The
value of the electric telegraph was quite beyond all estimate during
these wars and movements: it was worth a large army in itself.
On the 7th, Sir James Outram, while making his arrangements on the
opposite side of the river, was attacked in great force by the enemy. On
the preceding day, he had baffled them in all their attempts, with a
loss of only 2 killed and 10 wounded; and he was not now likely to be
seriously affected even by four or five times his number. The enemy
occupied the race-course stand with infantry, and bodies of cavalry
galloped up to the same spot with the intention of disturbing Outram’s
camp. He resisted all the attacks, chased them to a distance with his
cavalry, and maintained his advantageous camping-ground.[143] The road
from Fyzabad and from the cantonment passed near his camp; and as all
that region had for many months been entirely in the hands of the
rebels, there was a liability at any moment of some sudden onslaught
being made on him. The commander-in-chief had foreseen this, when he
placed at the disposal of Outram a division strong enough to form a
compact little army in itself.
The result of a careful reconnaissance made on the 8th, by Sir Colin,
resulted in instructions to Outram to arrange his batteries during the
night, and on the following day to attack the enemy’s position, the key
to which was the Chukkur Walla Kothee. On the morning of the 9th,
accordingly, Sir James made the attack with excellent effect; the enemy
being driven out at all points, and the Yellow House seized. He advanced
his whole force for some distance through ground affording excellent
cover for the enemy. He was by that means enabled to bring his right
flank forward to occupy the Fyzabad road, which he crossed by a bridge
over a nullah, and to plant his batteries for the purpose of enfilading
the works upon the canal. During this day’s operations, much skirmishing
took place between his Sikhs and Rifles and the enemy; but the most
obstinate contest was maintained within the Yellow House itself, where a
few fanatics, shutting themselves up, resisted for several hours all
attempts to dislodge them. They were at length expelled, fighting
desperately to the last. Outram was then enabled to take the villages of
Jeamoor and Jijowly, and to advance to the Padishah Bagh or King’s
Garden, opposite the Fureed Buksh palace, and to commence an enfilade
fire on the lines of the Kaiser Bagh defences.
While Outram was engaged in these successful operations of the 9th on
the left bank of the Goomtee, a very heavy fire was kept up against the
Martinière, from mortars and guns placed in position on the Dil Koosha
plateau. Sir Colin had purposely deferred this assault until Outram had
captured the Yellow House, and commenced that flank attack which so
embarrassed the enemy. The sailors of the naval brigade were joyously
engaged on this day; for the thicker the fight, the better were they
pleased. They commanded four great guns on the road near the Dil Koosha;
and with these they battered away, not only against the Martinière, but
also against a cluster of small houses near that building. Captain Sir
William Peel managed to throw not only shot and shell, but also rockets,
into enclosures which contained numerous insurgent musketeers—a
visitation which necessarily prompted a hasty flight. It had well-nigh
been a bad day for the British, however; for Peel received a musket-ball
in the thigh while walking about fearlessly among his guns; the ball was
extracted under the influence of chloroform; but the wound nearly proved
fatal through the eagerness of the gallant man to return to the fray. He
was, however, spared for the present. The enemy resisted this day’s
attack with a good deal of resolution; for they fired shot right over
the Martinière towards the Dil Koosha, from guns in their bastions on
the canal line of defence. When the cannonading had proceeded to the
desired extent, a storming of the Martinière took place, by troops under
the command of Sir Edward Lugard and other able officers. The
instructions given by the commander-in-chief for this enterprise were
minute and complete,[144] and were carried out to the letter. The
infantry marched forward from their camp behind the Dil Koosha, their
bayonets glittering in the sun; and it was remarked that the sight of
these terrible bayonets appeared to throw the enemy into more
trepidation than all the guns and howitzers, mortars and rockets. A
bayonet-charge by the British was more than any of the ‘Pandies’ could
bear. Silently and swiftly the Highlanders and Punjaubees marched on,
the former towards the Martinière, and the latter towards the trenches
that flanked that building; while the other regiments of Lugard’s column
followed closely in the rear. Distracted by Outram’s enfilade fire from
the other side of the river, and by Lugard’s advance in front, the enemy
made but a feeble resistance. The 42d Highlanders and the Punjaubee
infantry climbed up the intrenchment abutting on the river, and rushed
along the whole line of works, till they got to the neighbourhood of
Banks’s house. Meanwhile, another body of infantry advanced to the
Martinière, and captured the building and the whole of the enclosure
surrounding it. All this was done with very little bloodshed on either
side; for Lugard’s men, in obedience to orders, did not fire; while the
enemy escaped from the walls and trenches without maintaining a
hand-to-hand contest. This abandonment of the defence-works would not
have taken place so speedily had not Outram’s flanking fire enfiladed
the whole line; but the insurgent artillerymen found it impossible to
withstand the ordeal to which they were now exposed. Sir Colin’s plan
had been so carefully made, and so admirably carried out, that this
capture of the enemy’s exterior line of defence was effected almost
without loss.
On the 10th, while Outram was engaged in strengthening the position
which he had taken up, he sent Hope Grant with the cavalry of the
division to patrol over the whole of the country between the left bank
of the Goomtee and the old cantonment. This was done with the view of
preventing any surprise by the approach of bodies of the rebels in that
quarter. An extensive system of patrolling or reconnaissance had formed
from the first a part of Sir Colin’s plan for the tactics of the siege.
Outram on this day brought his heavy guns into a position to rake the
enemy’s lines, to annoy the Kaiser Bagh with a vertical and direct fire,
to attack the suburbs in the vicinity of the iron and stone bridges, and
to command the iron bridge from the left bank; all of which operations
he carried out with great success. The enemy, however, still held the
right end of the iron bridge so pertinaciously, that it was not until
after a very heavy cannonading that the conquest was effected.
On the city side of the river, on this day, the operations consisted
mainly in securing the conquests effected on the 9th. At a very early
hour in the morning, while yet dusk, the rebel sepoys advanced in great
strength to reoccupy the defence-line of the canal, apparently not
knowing that the Highlanders and Punjaubees had maintained that position
during the night; they were speedily undeceived by a volley of musketry
which put them to flight. At sunrise a disposition of troops and heavy
guns was made by Lugard for an attack on Banks’s house; and this house,
captured about noon, was at once secured as a strong military post.
Thus did this remarkable siege go on day after day. Nothing was hurried,
nothing unforeseen. All the movements were made as if the city and its
environs formed a vast chess-board on which the commander-in-chief could
see the position of all the pieces and pawns. Nay, so fully had he
studied the matter, that he had some such command over the ground as is
maintained by a chess-player who conducts and wins a game without seeing
the board. Every force, every movement, was made conducive to one common
end—the conquest of the city without the loss of much British blood, and
without leaving any lurking-place in the hands of the enemy.
The conquest and fortifying of Banks’s house enabled Sir Colin to
commence the second part of his operations. Having captured the enemy’s
exterior line of defence, he had now to attack the second or middle
line, which (as has been already shewn) began at the river-side near the
Motee Mehal, the Mess-house, and the Emanbarra. The plan he formed was
to use the great block of houses and palaces extending from Banks’s
house to the Kaiser Bagh as an approach, instead of sapping up towards
the second line of works. ‘The operation,’ as he said in his dispatch,
‘had now become one of an engineering character; and the most earnest
endeavours were made to save the infantry from being hazarded before due
preparation had been made.’ The chief engineer, Brigadier Napier, placed
his batteries in such positions as to shell and breach a large block of
the palaces known as the Begum Kothee. This bombardment, on the 11th,
was long and severe; for the front of the palaces was screened by
outhouses, earthworks, and parapets, which required to be well battered
before the infantry could make the assault. The 8-inch guns of the naval
brigade were the chief instruments in this formidable cannonade. At
length, about four o’clock in the afternoon, Napier announced that the
breaches were practicable, and Lugard at once made arrangements for
storming the Begum Kothee. He had with him the 93d Highlanders, the 4th
Punjaub Rifles, and 1000 Goorkhas, and was aided in the assault by
Adrian Hope. His troops speedily secured the whole block of buildings,
and inflicted a very heavy loss on the enemy. The attack was one of a
desperate character, and was characterised by Sir Colin as ‘the sternest
struggle which occurred during the siege.’ From that point Napier pushed
his engineering approaches with great judgment through the enclosures,
by the aid of the sappers and the heavy guns; the troops immediately
occupying the ground as he advanced, and the mortars being moved from
one position to another as the ground was won on which they could be
placed. Outram was not idle during these operations. He obtained
possession of the iron bridge, leading over the river from the
cantonment to the city, and swept away the enemy from every part of the
left bank of the river between that bridge and the Padishah Bagh; thus
leaving him in a position to enfilade the central and inner lines of
defence established by the enemy among the palaces.
It was while these serious and important operations were in progress, on
the 11th of March, that the commander-in-chief was called upon to attend
to a ceremonial affair, from which he would doubtless have willingly
been spared. The preceding chapters have shewn how Jung Bahadoor,
descending from the Nepaulese mountains with an army of 9000 Goorkhas,
rendered a little service in the Goruckpore and Jounpoor districts, and
then advanced into Oude to assist in the operations against Lucknow. His
movements had been dilatory; and Sir Colin was forced to arrange all the
details of the siege as if no reliance could be placed in this ally. At
length, however, on the afternoon of the 11th, Jung Bahadoor appeared at
the Dil Koosha; he and Sir Colin met for the first time. The meeting was
a curious one. The Nepaul chieftain, thoroughly Asiatic in everything,
prepared for the interview as one on which he might lavish all his
splendour of gold, satin, pearls, and diamonds; the old Highland
officer, on the other hand, plain beyond the usual plainness of a
soldier in all that concerned personal indulgences,[145] was somewhat
tried even by the necessity for his full regimentals and decorative
appendages. A continuous battle was going on, in which he thought of his
soldiers’ lives, and of the tactics necessary to insure a victory; at
such a time, and in such a climate, he would gladly have dispensed with
the scarlet and the feathers of his rank, and of the oriental
compliments in which truth takes little part. A tasteful canopy was
prepared in front of Sir Colin’s mess-tent; and here were assembled the
commander-in-chief, Archdale Wilson, Hope Grant, a glittering group of
staff-officers and aids-de-camp, a Highland guard of honour, an escort
of Lancers, bands, pipers, drums, flags, and all the paraphernalia for a
military show. Sir Colin was punctual; Jung Bahadoor was not. Sir Colin,
his thoughts all the while directed towards Lugard’s operations at the
Begum Kothee, felt the approaching ceremony, and the delay in beginning
it, as a sore interruption. At length the Nepaulese chieftain appeared.
Jung Bahadoor had, as Nepaulese ambassador, made himself famous in
London a few years before, by his gorgeous dress and lavish expenditure;
and he now appeared in fully as great splendour. The presentations, the
greetings, the compliments, the speeches, were all of the wonted kind;
but when Captain Hope Johnstone, as one of the officers of the chief of
the staff, entered to announce that ‘the Begum Kothee is taken,’ Sir
Colin broke through all ceremony, expressed a soldier’s pleasure at the
news, and brought the interview to a termination. Jung Bahadoor returned
to his own camp; and the commander-in-chief instantly resumed his
ordinary military duties. Sir Colin was evidently somewhat puzzled to
know how best to employ his gorgeous colleague; although his courtesy
would not allow him to shew it. The Goorkhas moved close to the canal on
the 13th; and on the following day Sir Colin requested Jung Bahadoor to
cross the canal, and attack the suburbs to the left of Banks’s house. As
he was obliged, just at that critical time, to mass all the available
strength of his British troops in the double attack along the banks of
the Goomtee, the commander-in-chief had few to spare for his left wing;
and he speaks of the troops of the Nepaulese leader as being ‘most
advantageously employed for several days,’ in thus covering his left.
We return to the siege operations. So great had been the progress made
on the 11th, that the development of the commander-in-chief’s strategy
became every hour more and more clear. Outram’s heavy fire with guns and
mortars produced great effect on the Kaiser Bagh; while the Begum Kothee
became a post from which an attack could be made on the Emanbarra, a
large building situated between the Begum Kothee and the Kaiser
Bagh.[146] The Begum Kothee palace, when visited by the officers of the
staff on the morning of the 12th, astonished them by the strength which
the enemy had given to it. The walls were so loopholed for musketry, the
bastions and cannon were so numerous, the ditch around it was so deep,
and the earthen rampart so high, that all marvelled how it came to be so
easily captured on the preceding day. The enemy might have held it
against double of Lugard’s force, had they not been paralysed by the
bayonet. It was a strange sight, on the following morning, to see
Highlanders and Punjaubees roaming about gorgeous saloons and zenanas,
still containing many articles of dress and personal ornaments which the
ladies of the palace had not had time to carry away with them. Whither
the inmates had fled, the conquerors at that time did not know, and in
all probability did not care. It was a strange and unnatural sight;
splendour and blood appeared to have struggled for mastery in the
various courts and rooms of the palace, many contests having taken place
with small numbers of the enemy.[147] From this building, we have said,
Sir Colin determined that progress should be made towards the Emanbarra,
not by open assault, but by sapping through a mass of intermediate
buildings.
[Illustration:
Gateway of the Emanbarra at Lucknow.
]
The 12th was the day when the sapping commenced; but so many and so
intricate were the buildings, that three days were occupied in this
series of operations; seeing that it was necessary to destroy or at
least to render innoxious such houses as might have concealed large
bodies of the enemy. Lugard’s troops having been hotly engaged on the
11th, they were now relieved by others under Franks. The work was of
formidable character; for the flat roofs of many of the houses were
covered with two or three feet of earth, baked in the sun, and loopholed
for musketry. Every such house had to be well scrutinised, before a
further advance was made. The sappers made passages, either actually
underground, or through the lower portions of the walls and enclosures
surrounding the buildings. On the 13th these approaches were so far
completed that a large number of guns and mortars could be brought
forward, and placed in position for bombarding the Emanbarra. On this
day, too, Jung Bahadoor’s troops took possession of a mass of suburban
houses southward of the city, between Sir Colin’s camp and the Alum
Bagh; after which the commander-in-chief paid a return visit to the
Nepaulese chieftain, who strove to display still more magnificence than
at the former interview.
The 14th of March was one of the busy days of the siege. The sap was
carried on so successfully that the Emanbarra could be bombarded by
heavy guns and mortars, and then taken. Directly this was done,
Brasyer’s Sikhs, pressing forward in pursuit of the fleeing enemy,
entered the Kaiser Bagh—the third or inner line of defence having been
turned without a single gun being fired from it. Supports were quickly
thrown in, and the British troops found themselves speedily in a part of
the city already well known to Campbell and Outram during their
operations of November—surrounded by the Mess-house, the Taree Kothee,
the Motee Mehal, and the Chuttur Munzil. All these buildings were near
them, and all were occupied by them before night closed in. As fast as
the infantry seized these several positions, so did the engineers
proceed to secure the outposts towards the south and west. As in many
other cases when it was the lot of the English in India to fight their
greatest battles, or bear their greatest sufferings, on Sundays; so was
it on a Sunday that these busy operations of the 14th took place. The
front walls of the Kaiser Bagh and the Motee Mehal were extensively
mined; insomuch that when the artillery had effected its dread work, the
infantry could approach much more safely than if exposed to the sight of
sharpshooters and matchlockmen. It is true that neither English nor
Highlanders, neither Sikhs nor Goorkhas, would have hesitated to rush
forward and storm these buildings without a sap; but as Sir Colin was
well supplied with heavy guns, he acted steadily on the plan of
employing them as much as possible before sending on his men—feeling
that the loss of men would be more difficult to replace than that of
guns and missiles, at such a time and in such a country. In his dispatch
relating to the operations of the 14th of March, he said: ‘The day was
one of continued exertion; and every one felt that, although much
remained to be done before the final expulsion of the rebels, the most
difficult part of the undertaking had been overcome. This is not the
place for a description of the various buildings sapped into or stormed.
Suffice it to say that they formed a range of massive palaces and walled
courts of vast extent, equalled perhaps, but not surpassed, in any
capital of Europe. Every outlet had been covered by a work, and on every
side were prepared barricades and loopholed parapets. The extraordinary
industry evinced by the enemy in this respect has been really
unexampled. Hence the absolute necessity for holding the troops in hand,
till at each successive move forward the engineers reported to me that
all which could be effected by artillery and the sappers had been done,
before the troops were led to the assault.’
A little must here be said concerning the share which Sir James Outram
had in the operations of the 12th and two following days. All his
tactics, on the left bank of the river, were especially intended to
support those of the commander-in-chief on the right bank. On the 12th
his heavy guns, at and near the Padishah Bagh, poured forth a torrent of
shot, to dislodge the enemy from certain positions near the city. His
head-quarters were established under a small tope of trees near a ruined
mosque; and he, as well as Lugard and Walpole, lived as simply as
possible under tents. The Padishah Bagh itself—a suburban palace with
beautiful saloons, halls, terraces, orange-groves and fountains—was held
by H.M. 23d. The left bank of the river being occupied as far up as the
iron suspension bridge, Outram planted two or three guns to guard that
position from any hostile attack from the north; while two or three
regiments of his own infantry, in convenient spots near the bridge, kept
up a musketry-fire against such of the enemy as were visible and within
reach on the opposite or city side of the river. This musketry-fire was
continued all day on the 13th, while the batteries of heavy guns were
being brought further and further into position. On the 14th, the same
operations were continued; but the conquest of the Kaiser Bagh was so
sudden and unexpected on this day, that the proceedings on the left bank
of the river were relatively unimportant.
When the morning of the 15th arrived, Sir Colin Campbell felt that he
might call Lucknow his own; for although much remained to be done, the
conquests achieved were vast and important. The Mahomed Bagh, the Dil
Koosha, the Martinière, the Secunder Bagh, the Emanbarra, the
Mess-house, the Shah Munzil, the Motee Mehal, the Begum Kothee, and the
Kaiser Bagh, were all in his hands—constituting by far the strongest and
most important of the palatial buildings along the banks of the river.
Moreover, the natives were evidently dismayed; vast numbers were leaving
the city on the Rohilcund side; and spies brought information that the
rebel leaders encountered much difficulty in keeping the sepoys steadily
at the defence-works. The progress made by the British had surprised and
alarmed the insurgents, and tended to paralyse their exertions. Some of
the British officers had entertained a belief that the Kaiser Bagh was
the key to the enemy’s position, whereas others had looked rather to the
Begum Kothee. The latter proved to be right. The enemy had greatly
relied on the last-named building; insomuch that, when it was captured,
they rushed in wild confusion to the Kaiser Bagh, intent rather upon
flight than upon a stubborn resistance. The garrison of the Kaiser Bagh,
disconcerted by this irruption of their brother insurgents, were
rendered almost unable, even if willing, to make a manful resistance.
The British were almost as much surprised by the speedy capture of the
Kaiser Bagh, as the enemy were by the loss of the Begum Kothee. When the
great palace changed hands, the smoke and blood and cries of war were
strangely mingled with the magnificence of kiosks, mosques, corridors,
courts, gardens, terraces, saloons, mirrors, gilding, chandeliers,
tapestry, statues, pictures, and costly furniture, in this strange
jumble of oriental and European splendour.
A soldier loses all his heroism when the hour for prize and plunder
arrives. Those, whether officers or spectators, who have described the
scene which was presented when these Lucknow palaces were conquered,
tell plainly of a period of wild licence and absorbing greed. On the one
hand there were palaces containing vast stores of oriental and European
luxuries; on the other, there were bands of armed men, brave and
faithful, but at the same time poor and unlettered, who suddenly found
themselves masters of all these splendours, with very little check or
supervision on the part of their officers. At first, in a spirit of
triumphant revenge, costly articles were broken which were too large to
be carried away; glass chandeliers were hurled to the ground, mirrors
shattered into countless fragments, statues mutilated and overturned,
pictures stabbed and torn, doors of costly wood torn from their hinges.
But when this destruction had been wreaked, and when the troops had
forced their way through courts and corridors strewn with sepoys’ brass
lotas or drinking-vessels, charpoys, clothing, belts, ammunition,
muskets, matchlocks, swords, pistols, chupatties, and other evidences of
precipitate flight—when this had all occurred, then did the love of
plunder seize hold of the men. The Kaiser Bagh had been so quickly
conquered, that the subaltern officers had not yet received instructions
how to control the movements of the troops in this matter. Sikhs,
Highlanders, English, were soon busily engaged. In one splendid saloon
might be seen a party of Sikhs melting down gold and silver lace for the
sake of the precious metals; in another, a quantity of shawls, lace,
pearls, and embroidery of gold and silver, was being divided equally
among a group of soldiers. In a sort of treasure-room, apparently
belonging to some high personage, a few men of two British regiments
found caskets and boxes containing diamonds, emeralds, rubies, pearls,
opals, and other gems, made into necklaces, bracelets, earrings,
girdles, &c.; together with gold-mounted pistols, jewel-hilted swords,
saddle-cloths covered with gold and pearls, gold-handled riding-canes,
jewelled cups of agate and jade, japanned boxes filled with crystal and
jade vessels. And, as it appeared that every one felt himself permitted
or at least enabled to retain whatever he could capture, the
camp-followers rushed in and seized all that the soldiers had left.
Coolies, syces, khitmutgars, dooly-bearers, and grass-cutters, were seen
running hither and thither, laden with costly clothing, swords,
firelocks, brass pots, and other articles larger in bulk than the actual
soldiers could readily have disposed of. It was a saturnalia, during
which it is believed that some of the troops appropriated enough
treasure, if converted into its value in money, to render them
independent of labour for the rest of their lives. But each man kept, in
whole or in part, his own secret.
Let us on from this extraordinary scene. The 15th was chiefly employed
in securing what had been captured, removing powder, destroying mines,
and fixing mortars for the further bombardment of the positions still
held by the enemy, on the right bank of the Goomtee, and in the heart of
the city. As the infantry and artillery could fulfil this duty, without
the aid of horse, two bodies of cavalry, under Walpole and Hope Grant,
were sent out to prevent, if possible, the escape of the enemy on the
sides of the city not subject to immediate attack. One of these generals
proceeded towards the Sundeela road, and the other to that leading to
Seetapoor. Whether this flight of the enemy disappointed or not the
expectations of the commander-in-chief, was a question which he kept to
himself. The city, for all practical military purposes, was twenty miles
in circumference; and he could not have guarded all the outlets without
a very much larger army than that which was at his disposal. Like as at
Sebastopol, the siege was not aided by a complete investiture of the
place besieged. It is possible that the capture of the Kaiser Bagh, and
the consequent flight of the enemy, occurred too early for Sir Colin to
be enabled to put in operation certain manœuvres on the other side of
the city. Be this as it may, large numbers of rebel sepoys, and a still
larger of the regular inhabitants of the city escaped during the 14th
and 15th, mostly over the stone bridge—as if hopeful of safety in
Rohilcund and Upper Oude.
On the 16th Sir James Outram, after ten days of active operation on the
left bank of the Goomtee, crossed over by a bridge of casks opposite the
Secunder Bagh; and he then advanced through the Chuttur Munzil towards
the Residency. To lessen the chance of the enemy’s retreat as much as
possible, he marched right through the city, not only to the iron bridge
near the Residency, but to the stone bridge near the Muchee Bhowan. All
this was an enterprise of remarkable boldness, for the buildings to be
successively conquered and entered were very numerous. Outram shifted
his own head-quarters to Banks’s house, on the city side of the river;
and it was here that he received a letter from the Begum, or mother of
the young boy-king, containing some sort of proposition for compromise
or cessation of hostilities. Whatever it may have been, no successful
result attended this missive: the progress and conquest went on as
before. His troops, as they advanced to the Chuttur Munzil, the Pyne
Bagh, the Fureed Buksh, and the Taree Kothee, found all these buildings
abandoned by the enemy—who had been too much dismayed by the operations
of the 16th to make a bold stand. At length he approached the Residency,
the enclosed spot whose name will ever be imperishably associated with
Inglis’s defence of the British garrison, and in which Outram himself
had passed many anxious weeks between September and November. Hardly a
building remained standing within the enclosure; all had been riddled
and shattered during the long period from July to November, and most of
them subsequently destroyed by the enemy. Up to this time Outram’s march
of the 16th through the city had been almost unopposed; but he now
ascertained that the houses and palaces between the iron and stone
bridges were occupied by the enemy in considerable force. Hard fighting
at once commenced here, in which the 20th, 23d, and 79th regiments were
actively engaged. They advanced at a rapid pace from the Residency
towards the iron bridge. A 9-pounder, planted to command a road by the
way, fired grape into them; but it was speedily captured. By that time
the large guns were brought into position, to play upon the stone
bridge, the Emanbarra of Azof-u-Dowlah, and other structures northwest
of the iron bridge. At that time Grant and his troopers were near the
stone bridge on the left side of the river, while Outram’s guns were
firing on it from the right bank; as a consequence, no more escape was
permitted by that channel; and the fugitives therefore ran along the
right bank of the river, to a part of the open country northwest of
Lucknow, not yet controlled by the English. Many of the rebel sepoys
resolved to make a stand at the Moosa Bagh, a building at the extreme
limits of the city in this direction; but the day was too far advanced
to attack them at that spot; and the troops were glad to rest for the
night in the splendid saloons and courts of the Emanbarra—one of the
grandest among the many grand structures in Lucknow.
While Outram was engaged in these operations on the 16th, obtaining a
mastery along almost the whole right bank of the river, the enemy very
unexpectedly made an attack on the Alum Bagh, which was only held by a
small English force under Brigadier Franklyn. Sir Colin Campbell
immediately requested Jung Bahadoor to advance to his left up the canal,
and take in reverse the post from which the enemy was making the attack.
The Nepaulese chieftain performed this service successfully, capturing
the post and the guns, and expelling the enemy.
When the morning of the 17th arrived, the commander-in-chief found
himself so undoubtedly the master of Lucknow, that he was enabled to
dispense with the services of some of his gallant artillery officers,
whose aid was much wanted at Futteghur and elsewhere. Still, though the
great conquest was mainly effected, the minor details had yet to be
filled up. There were isolated buildings in which small knots of the
enemy had fortified themselves; these it would be necessary to capture.
It was also very desirable to check the camp-followers in their manifest
tendency for plundering the shops and private houses of the city. Sir
Colin did not wish the townsmen to regard him as an enemy; he encouraged
them, so far as they had not been in complicity with the rebels, to
return to their homes and occupations; and it was very essential that
those homes should, in the meantime, be spared from reckless _looting_.
In some of the streets, pickets of soldiers were placed, to compel the
camp-followers to disgorge the plunder which they had appropriated; and
thus was collected a strange medley of trinkets and utensils, which the
temporary holders gave up with sore unwillingness. Here and there, where
a soldier had a little leisure and opportunity, he would hold a kind of
mock-auction, at which not only camp-followers but officers would buy
treasures for a mere trifle; but these instances were few, for there was
not much ready cash among the conquerors. Sir Colin found it necessary
to issue an order concerning the plundering system.[148] Outram and Jung
Bahadoor took part in a series of operations, on the 17th, intended to
obtain control over the northwest section of the city. The one set forth
from the river, the other from the vicinity of the Alum Bagh; and during
the day they cleared out many nests of rebels. There was also an action
on the margin of the city, in which the enemy managed to bring together
a considerable force of horse, foot, and artillery; their guns were
captured, however, and themselves put to flight.
Sir Colin, responsible for many places besides Lucknow, and for many
troops besides those under his immediate command, now made daily changes
in the duties of his officers. Major (now Lieutenant-colonel) Vincent
Eyre and Major (now also Lieutenant-colonel) Turner, two of the most
distinguished artillery officers, departed for Futteghur and Idrapore;
and Franklyn went to Cawnpore. Inglis succeeded Franklyn at the Alum
Bagh. Sir Archdale Wilson and Brigadier Russell took their departure on
sick-leave.
A considerable force of the enemy still lingered around the Alum Bagh,
irresolute as to any actual attacks, but loath to quit the neighbourhood
until the last ray of hope was extinguished. With these rebels Jung
Bahadoor had many smart contests. He had been instructed by Sir Colin to
obtain secure possession of the suburbs of the city near the Char
Bagh—the bridge that carried the Cawnpore road over the canal.
It was on this day, the 17th, and partly in consequence of the success
attending the operations of the Goorkhas, that two English ladies, Mrs
Orr and Miss Jackson, were delivered from the hands of enemies who had
long held them in bondage. It will be remembered that on the night of
the 22d of November,[149] the insurgents in Lucknow, enraged at the safe
evacuation of the Residency by the British, put to death certain English
prisoners who had long been in confinement in the Kaiser Bagh. Among
them were Mr Orr and Sir Mountstuart Jackson. So far as any authentic
news could be obtained, it appeared that Mrs Orr and Miss Jackson had
been spared; partly, as some said, through the intervention of the
Begum. During the subsequent period of nearly four months, the fate of
those unhappy ladies remained unknown to their English friends. On the
day in question, however (the 17th of March), Captain M’Neil and
Lieutenant Bogle, both attached to the Goorkha force, while exploring
some of the deserted streets in the suburb, were accosted by a native
who asked their protection for his house and property. The man sought to
purchase this protection by a revelation concerning certain English
ladies, who, he declared, were in confinement in a place known to him.
Almost immediately another native brought a note from Mrs Orr and Miss
Jackson, begging earnestly for succour. M’Neil and Bogle instantly
obtained a guard of fifty Goorkhas, and, guided by the natives, went on
their errand of mercy. After walking through half a mile of narrow
streets, doubtful of an ambush at every turning, they came to a house
occupied by one Meer Wajeed Ali, who held, or had held, some office
under the court. After a little parleying, M’Neil and Bogle were led to
an obscure apartment, where were seated two ladies in oriental costume.
These were the prisoners, who had so long been excluded from every one
of their own country, and who were overwhelmed with tearful joy at this
happy deliverance. It was not clearly known whether this Meer Wajeed Ali
was endeavouring to buy off safety for himself by betraying a trust
imposed in him; but the two English officers deemed it best to lose no
time in securing their countrywomen’s safety, whether he were a
double-dealer or not; they procured a palanquin, put the ladies into it,
and marched off with their living treasure—proud enough with their
afternoon’s work. When these poor ladies came to tell their sad tale of
woe, with countenances on which marks of deep suffering were expressed,
it became known that, though not exposed to any actual barbarities or
atrocities, like so many of their countrywomen in other parts of India,
their lives had been made very miserable by the unfeeling conduct of
their jailers, who were permitted to use gross and insulting language in
their presence, and to harrow them with recitals of what Europeans were
and had been suffering. They had had food in moderate sufficiency, but
of other sources of solace they were almost wholly bereft. It was fully
believed that they would not have been restored alive, had the jailer
obeyed the orders issued to him by the Moulvie.
After a day of comparative repose on the 18th, a combined movement
against the Moosa Bagh was organised on the 19th. This was the last
position held by the enemy on the line of the Goomtee, somewhat beyond
the extreme northwest limit of the city. Outram moved forward directly
against the place; Hope Grant cannonaded it from the left bank; while
William Campbell, approaching on the remote side from the Alum Bagh,
prevented retreat in that direction. Some said the Begum was there, some
the Moulvie or fanatic chieftain; but on this point nothing was known.
All that was certain was that several thousand insurgents, driven from
other places, had congregated within the buildings and courts of the
Moosa Bagh. Outram’s troops started from the Emanbarra on this
expedition early in the morning; he himself joined them from Banks’s
house, while Sir Colin rode over to see in person how the work was
effected. Opposite the Moosa Bagh, which was a large structure
surrounded by an enclosed court, was the residence of Ali Nuckee Khan,
vizier or prime-minister to the deposed King of Oude; and in other parts
of the vicinity were numerous mansions and mosques. If the rebels had
held well together, they might have made a stout resistance here, for
the buildings contained many elements of strength; but discord reigned;
the Begum reproached the thalookdars, the thalookdars the sepoys; while
the Moulvie was suspected of an intention to set up as King of Oude on
his own account. Outram’s column was to make the direct attack; Hope
Grant’s cavalry and horse-artillery were to command certain roads of
approach and exit on the river-side; while William Campbell’s cavalry,
aided by two or three infantry regiments, were to command the opposite
side. The contest can hardly be called a battle or a siege; for as soon
as the rebels clearly ascertained that the British were approaching,
they abandoned court after court, house after house, and escaped towards
the northwest, by the only avenue available. Although they did not
fight, they escaped more successfully than Sir Colin had wished or
intended. Whether the three movements were not timed in unison, or
whether collateral objects engaged the attention of Brigadier Campbell,
certain it is that few of the enemy were killed, and that many thousands
safely marched or ran out. The open country, covered with enclosures and
cornfields, enabled the sepoys better to escape than the British to
pursue them. A regiment of Sikhs was sent to occupy the Moosa Bagh; and
now was Lucknow still more fully than before in the hands of the
commander-in-chief.
On the 20th, further measures were taken, by proclamation and otherwise,
to induce the peaceful portion of the inhabitants to return to their
homes. This was desirable in every sense. Until the ordinary relations
of society were re-introduced, anything like civil government was simply
impossible; while, so long as the houses, deserted by their proper
inhabitants, served as hiding-places for fanatics and budmashes, the
streets were never for an instant safe. Many officers and soldiers were
shot by concealed antagonists, long after the great buildings of the
city had been conquered. Moreover, the Sikhs and Goorkhas were becoming
very unruly. The plunder had acted upon them as an intoxicating
indulgence, shaking the steady obedience which they were wont to exhibit
when actively engaged against the enemy. Even at a time when Sir Colin
was planning which of his generals he could spare, for service elsewhere
or for sick-leave, and which regiments should form new columns for
active service in other districts—even at such a time it was discovered
that bodies of the enemy were lurking in houses near Outram’s
head-quarters, bent upon mischief or revenge; and there was much
musketry-fire necessary before they could be dislodged. The
‘sick-leave,’ just adverted to, was becoming largely applied for. Many
officers, so gallant and untiring as to be untouched by any suspicion of
their willingness to shirk danger and hard work, gave in; they had
become weakened in body and mind by laborious duties, and needed repose.
[Illustration:
MAJOR HODSON, Commandant of Hodson’s Horse.
]
The Moulvie, who had held great power within Lucknow, and whose
influence was even now not extinguished, commanded a stronghold in the
very heart of the city. Sir Edward Lugard was requested to dislodge him
on the 21st. This he did after a sharp contest; and Brigadier W.
Campbell, with his cavalry, placed himself in such a position, that he
was enabled to attack the enemy who were put to flight by Lugard, and to
inflict heavy loss on them during a pursuit of six miles. The conquest
of the Moulvie’s stronghold had this useful effect among others; that it
enabled Sir Colin to expedite the arrangements for the return of such of
the inhabitants as were not too deeply steeped in rebellion to render
return expedient. Among those who fell on this occasion, on the side of
the enemy, was Shirreff-u-Dowlah, the chief-minister of the rebel
boy-king, or rather of his mother the Begum; this man had been in
collision with the Moulvie, each envious of the other’s authority; and
there were those who thought it was by a treacherous blow that he now
fell. Even in this, the last contest within the city, the sappers had to
be employed; for the Moulvie had so intrenched himself, with many
hundred followers, that he could not be dislodged by the force at first
sent against him; the engineers were forced to sap under and through
some surrounding buildings, before the infantry could obtain command of
that in which the Moulvie was lodged.
This was the last day of those complicated scenes of tactics and
fighting which formed collectively the siege of Lucknow, and which had
lasted from the 2d to the 21st of March. Concerning the cavalry
expeditions, during the third week of this period, it is pretty evident
that they had been fruitless in great results. Sir Hope Grant had cut up
a few hundred fugitive rebels in one spot, and intercepted more in
another; Brigadier William Campbell had rendered useful service both in
and beyond the suburbs of the city; but the proofs were not to be
doubted that the mutinied sepoys and rebel volunteers had safely escaped
from the city, not merely by thousands, but by tens of thousands; and
that they still retained a sufficiency of military organisation to
render them annoying and even formidable. When this news reached
England, it damped considerably the pleasure afforded by the conquest of
Lucknow. The nation asked, but asked without the probability of
receiving a reply, whether the enemy had in this particular foiled a
part of the commander-in-chief’s plan; and whether the governor-general
shared the opinions of the commander concerning the plan of strategy,
and the consequences resulting from it?
The losses suffered by the British army during the operations at
Lucknow, though necessarily considerable, were small in comparison
with those which would have been borne if artillery had not been so
largely used. Sir Colin from the first determined that shells and
balls should do as much of the dread work as possible, clearing away
or breaching the enemy’s defence-works before he sent in his infantry
to close quarters. During the entire series of operations, from the 2d
to the 21st of March, he had 19 officers killed and 48 wounded. The
whole of the generals and brigadiers escaped untouched; and there were
only two officers among the wounded so high in military rank as
lieutenant-colonel. The killed and wounded among the troops generally
were about 1100. The enemy’s loss could hardly have been less than
4000. One of the deaths most regretted during these operations was
that of Major Hodson; who, as the commander of ‘Hodson’s Horse,’ and
as the captor of the King of Delhi, had been prominently engaged in
the Indian wars. It was on the day marked by the conquest of the Begum
Kothee that he fell. Having no especial duty on that day, and hearing
that Brigadier Napier was busily engaged in engineering operations
connected with the attack on that palace, he rode over to him, and
joined in that storming attack which Sir Colin characterised as ‘the
sternest struggle which occurred during the siege.’ Hodson, while
assisting in clearing the court-yards and buildings near the palace of
parties of the enemy lurking there, was shot by a sepoy. His orderly,
a large powerful Sikh, carried him in his arms to a spot beyond the
reach of shot, whence he was carried in a dooly to Banks’s house,
where surgical aid could be obtained. Some of his own irregular
troopers cried over him like children. The shot had passed through the
liver, and he died after a night of great agony. A spot was chosen for
his grave near a tope of bamboos behind the Martinière. Sir Colin and
his staff attended the funeral, at which the old chief was much
affected; he had highly valued Hodson, and did not allow many hours to
elapse before he wrote a graceful and feeling letter to the widow of
the deceased officer. As soon as possible a telegraphic message was
sent to bring down Captain Daly, the commandant of the famous corps of
Guides; he was every way fitted to command a similar body of irregular
cavalry, ‘Hodson’s Horse.’
No sooner was the city of Lucknow clearly and unequivocally in the hands
of Sir Colin Campbell, than he completely broke up the lately formidable
‘army of Oude.’ The troops had nothing more immediately to do at that
spot; while their services were urgently needed elsewhere. With regret
did the soldiers leave a place where such extraordinary gains had fallen
to the lot of some among their number; or, more correctly, this regret
endured only until the very stringent regulations put an effectual stop
to all plundering. The regiments were reorganised into brigades and
divisions; new brigadiers were appointed in lieu of those on
‘sick-leave;’ and a dispersion of the army commenced.
It is impossible to read Sir Colin Campbell’s mention of Jung Bahadoor
without feeling that he estimated at a small price the value of the
services yielded by the Nepaulese leader. Whether it was that the
arrival of the Goorkha army was delayed beyond the date when the
greatest services might have been rendered, or that Sir Colin found it
embarrassing to issue orders to one who was little less than a king, it
is plain that not much was effected by Jung Bahadoor during the
operations at Lucknow. He came when the siege was half over; he departed
a fortnight afterwards; and although the commander-in-chief said in a
courteous dispatch: ‘I found the utmost willingness on his part to
accede to any desire of mine during the progress of the siege; and from
the first his Highness was pleased to justify his words that he was
happy to be serving under my command’—although these were the words
used, there was an absence of any reference to special deeds of
conquest. It was a pretty general opinion among the officers that the
nine thousand soldiers of the Nepaulese army were far inferior in
military qualities to those Goorkhas who had for many years formed two
or three regiments in the Bengal army. When the looting in the city
began, Jung Bahadoor’s Goorkhas could scarcely be held in any control;
like the Sikhs, they were wild with oriental excitement, and Sir Colin
was more anxious concerning them than his own European troops. Viscount
Canning, who was in intimate correspondence with the commander-in-chief
through the medium of the electric telegraph, exchanged opinions with
him in terms known only to themselves; but the announcement made public
was to the effect that the governor-general solicited the aid of the
Goorkha troops in the neighbourhood of Allahabad, and invited Jung
Bahadoor to a personal conference with him at that city. It was during
the last week in March that the Nepaulese allies quitted Lucknow, and
marched off towards the Oude frontier.
Of the troops which remained at Lucknow, after the departure of some of
the brigades, it need only be said in this place that they began to
experience the heat of an Indian equinox, which, though much less than
that of summer, is nevertheless severely felt by Europeans. A letter
from an assistant-surgeon in the division lately commanded by Brigadier
Franks, conveyed a good impression of camp-troubles at such a time.[150]
When the governor-general wrote the usual thanks and compliments after
the conquest of Lucknow, he adverted very properly to the previous
operations, which, though not conquests in the ordinary sense of the
term, had won so much fame for Inglis, Havelock, Neill, Outram, and
Campbell; and then after mentioning some of the most obvious facts
connected with the siege,[151] praised all those whom Sir Colin had
pointed out as being worthy of praise. Concerning the proclamation which
Lord Canning issued, or proposed to issue, to the natives of Oude, it
will be convenient to defer notice of it to a future chapter; when
attention will be called to the important debates in the imperial
legislature relating to that subject.
Here this chapter may suitably end. It was designed as a medium for the
remarkable episode of the final conquest of Lucknow in the month of
March; and will be best kept free from all topics relating to other
parts of India.
Note.
_Lucknow Proclamations._—When Sir Colin Campbell had effectually
conquered Lucknow, and had gathered information concerning the
proceedings of the rebels since the preceding month of November, it
was found that no means had been left untried to madden the populace
into a death-struggle with the British. Among other methods, printed
proclamations were posted up in all the police stations, not only in
Lucknow, but in many other parts of Oude.
One of these proclamations, addressed to the Mohammedans, ran thus:
‘God says in the Koran: “Do not enter into the friendship of Jews
and Christians; those who are their friends are of them—that is, the
friends of Christians are Christians, and friends of Jews are Jews.
God never shews his way to infidels.”
‘By this it is evident that to befriend Christians, is irreligious.
Those who are their friends are not Mohammedans; therefore all the
Mohammedan fraternity should with all their hearts be deadly enemies
to the Christians, and never befriend them in any way; otherwise,
all will lose their religion, and become infidels.
‘Some people, weak in faith and worldly, think that if they offend
the Christians, they will fall their victims when their rule is
re-established. God says of these people: “Look in the hearts of
these unbelievers, who are anxious to seek the friendship of
Christians through fear of receiving injury,” to remove their doubts
and assure their wavering mind. It is also said that “God will
shortly give us victory, or will do something by which our enemies
will be ashamed of themselves.” The Mussulmans should therefore
always hope, and never believe that the Christians will be
victorious and injure them; but, on the contrary, should hope to
gain the victory and destroy all Christians.
‘If all the Mohammedans join and remain firm to their faith, they
would no doubt gain victory over the Christians, because God says
that the victory is due to the faithful from Him; but if they become
cowards and infirm to their religion, and do not sacrifice their
private interest for the public good, the Europeans will be
victorious, and, having subdued the Mohammedans, they will disarm,
hang, shoot, or blow them away, seize upon their women and children,
disgrace, dishonour, and christianise them, dig up their houses and
carry off their property; they will also burn religious and sacred
books, destroy the musjids, and efface the name of Islam from the
world.
‘If the Mohammedans have any shame, they should all join and prepare
themselves to kill the Christians without minding any one who says
to the contrary; they should also know that no one dies before his
time, and when the time comes, nothing can save them. Thousands of
men are carried off by cholera and other pestilence; but it is not
known whether they die in their senses, and be faithful to their own
religion.
‘To be killed in a war against Christians is a proof of obtaining
martyrdom. All good Mohammedans pray for such a death; therefore,
every one should sacrifice his life for such a reward. Every one is
to die assuredly, and those Mohammedans who would spare themselves
now will be sorry on their death for their neglect.
‘As it is the duty of all men and women to oppose, kill, and expel
the Europeans for deeds committed by them at Delhi, Jhujur, Rewaree,
and the Doab, all the Mohammedans should discharge their duty with a
willing heart; if they neglect, and the Europeans overpower them,
they will be disarmed, hung, and treated like the inhabitants of
other unfortunate countries, and will have nothing but regret and
sorrow for their lot. Wherefore this notice is given to warn the
public.’
Another proclamation, addressed principally to zemindars and Hindoos
in general, but to Mohammedans also, was couched in the following
terms:
‘All the Hindoos and Mohammedans know that man loves four things
most: 1, his religion and caste; 2, his honour; 3, his own and his
kinsmen’s lives; 4, his property. All these four are well protected
under native rulers; no one interferes with any one’s religion;
every one enjoys his respectability according to his caste and
wealth. All the respectable people—Syad, Shaikh, Mogul, and Patan,
among Mohammedans; and Brahmins, Chatrees, Bys, and Kaeths, among
the Hindoos—are respected according to their castes. No low-caste
people like chumars, dhanook, and passees, can be equal to and
address them disrespectfully. No one’s life or property is taken
unless for some heinous crime.
‘The British are quite against these four things—they want to spoil
every one’s caste, and wish both the Mohammedans and Hindoos to
become Christians. Thousands have turned renegades, and many will
become so yet; both the nobles and low caste are equal in their
eyes; they disgrace the nobles in the presence of the ignoble; they
arrest or summon to their courts the gentry, nawabs, and rajahs at
the instance of a chumar, and disgrace them; wherever they go they
hang the respectable people, kill their women and children; their
troops dishonour the women, and dig up and carry off their buried
property. They do not kill the mahajuns, but dishonour their women,
and carry off their money. They disarm the people wherever they go,
and when the people are disarmed, they hang, shoot, or blow them
away.
‘In some places, they deceive the landholders by promising them
remittance of revenue, or lessen the amount of their lease; their
object is that when their government is settled, and every one
becomes their subject, they can readily, according to their wish,
hang, disgrace, or christianise them. Some of the foolish
landholders have been deceived, but those who are wise and careful
do not fall into their snares.
‘Therefore, all the Hindoos and Mohammedans who wish to save their
religion, honour, life, and property, are warned to join the
government forces, and not to be deceived by the British.
‘The passees (low-caste servants) should also know that the
chowkeedaree (office of watchmen) is their hereditary right, but the
British appoint burkundauzes in their posts, and deprive them of
their rights; they should therefore kill and plunder the British and
their followers, and annoy them by committing robbery and thefts in
their camp.’
[Illustration:
HINDOO METALLIC ORNAMENTS.
_a_ Women’s Earrings. _b_ Parsee Women’s Neck-ring. _c_ Women’s
Nose-rings. _d_ Women’s Forehead Ornament. _f_ Men’s Earrings. _g_
Women’s Anklets. _h_ Women’s Armlets. _i_ Women’s Toe-rings. _k_
Women’s Finger-rings. _l_ Women’s Necklace. _m_ Men’s Necklace.
]
-----
Footnote 141:
The plans of Lucknow at pp. 321 and 362 will convey an idea of the
situation of the city relatively to the river.
Footnote 142:
23d Fusiliers.
79th Highlanders.
Rifle Brigade, two battalions.
1st Bengal Europeans.
3d Punjaub infantry.
2d Dragoon Guards.
9th Lancers.
1st, 2d, and 5th Punjaub cavalry, detachment.
D’Aguilar’s troop, horse-artillery.
Remington’s troop, royal artillery.
M’Kinnon’s troop, royal artillery.
Gibbon’s light field-battery.
Middleton’s light field-battery.
Head-quarters, field-artillery brigade.
Footnote 143:
Mr Russell, all day on the 6th and 7th, was watching the proceedings
from a position such as has seldom before been occupied by a newspaper
writer. He was on the roof of the Dil Koosha, taking his chance of
such shots as came from the Martinière, and viewing Outram’s marchings
and fightings by means of a telescope. Sometimes his resolution was
nearly baffled by heat and dust. ‘The wind was all but
intolerable—very hot and very high, and surcharged with dust. I had a
little camp-table and chair placed on the top of the building, and
tried to write; but the heat and the dust were intolerable. I tried to
look out, but the glasses were filled with dust; a fog would be just
as good a medium.’
Footnote 144:
‘He (Sir Edward Lugard) will employ for the purpose the 4th brigade,
with the 38th and 53d regiments of the 3d brigade in support.
‘The 42d Highlanders will lead the attack, and seize, as a first
measure, the huts and ruined houses to the left of the Martinière, as
viewed from the brigadier-general’s front.
‘While the movement is being made upon the huts in question, the wall
below the right heavy battery will be lined very thickly, with at
least the wing of a regiment, which will be flanked again by a troop
of R.A. The huts having been seized, this extended wing behind the
wall will advance right across the open on the building of the
Martinière, its place being taken immediately by a regiment in
support, which will also move rapidly forward on the building. But the
attack on the huts is not to stop there. As soon as they are in, the
Highlanders must turn sharp on the building of the Martinière, also
following up the retreating enemy. The heavy guns of the right
battery, as well as those belonging to the troop, will search the
intrenchments of the tank and the brushwood to the right while this
advance is going forward.
‘The whole line of the ruined huts, Martinière, &c., having been
seized, the engineers attached to the 2d division for the operation
will be set to work immediately by the brigadier-general to give cover
to the troops.
‘The men employed in the attack will use nothing but the bayonet. They
are absolutely forbidden to fire a shot till the position is won. This
must be thoroughly explained to the men, and they will be told also
that their advance is flanked on every side by heavy and light
artillery, as well as by the infantry fire on the right.
‘The brigadier-general will cause his whole division to dine at 12
o’clock. Inlying pickets will remain in camp. The 90th foot, now in
the Mahomed Bagh, will be relieved by a regiment from
Brigadier-general Franks’s division. The troops will not be allowed to
pass the lines of huts and the building without orders.’
Footnote 145:
When Sir Colin started from Buntara to the Dil Koosha on the 2d of
March, Mr Russell says of his personal appearance: ‘He wears a
serviceable air which bespeaks confidence and resolution, and gives
the notion of hard work and success. Everything about him is for
service, even down to the keen-edged sabre in a coarse leather sheath,
not dangling and clattering from his side and hitting the flanks of
his horse from gaudy sling-belts, but tucked up compactly by a stout
shoulder-belt just over his hip.... And so of his nether man; not
clothed in regulation with gold stripes, but in stout brown corduroy,
warranted to wear in any climate. The chief of the staff and the
officers of the staff for the most part follow the example of the
commander-in-chief.’
Footnote 146:
It is well to bear in mind the distinction between two great
Emanbarras at Lucknow; one, called the Emanbarra of Ghazee-u-deen
Hyder, just mentioned; and the other, the Emanbarra of Azof-u-Dowlah,
between the Muchee Bhowan and the Moosa Bagh.
Footnote 147:
The graphic writer to whom we have more than once adverted was among
those who hastened to the Begum Kothee as a spectator on this morning.
Among the scenes that met his view he said: ‘I saw one of the
fanatics, a fine old sepoy with a grizzled moustache, lying dead in
the court, a sword-cut across his temple, a bayonet-thrust through his
neck, his thigh broken by a bullet, and his stomach slashed open, in a
desperate attempt to escape. There had been five or six of these
fellows altogether, and they had either been surprised and unable to
escape, or had shut themselves up in desperation in a small room, one
of many looking out on the court. At first, attempts were made to
start them by throwing in live shell. A bag of gunpowder was more
successful; and out they charged, and, with the exception of one man,
were shot and bayoneted on the spot. The man who got away did so by a
desperate leap through a window, amid a shower of bullets and many
bayonet-thrusts. Such are the common incidents of this war. From court
to court of the huge pile of buildings we wandered through the same
scenes—dead sepoys—blood-splashed gardens—groups of eager Highlanders,
looking out for the enemy’s loopholes—more eager groups of plunderers
searching the dead, many of whom lay heaped on the top of each other,
amid the ruins of rooms brought down upon them by our cannon-shot. Two
of these were veritable chambers of horrors. It must be remembered
that the sepoys and matchlockmen wear cotton clothes, many at this
time of year using thickly quilted tunics; and in each room there is a
number of _resais_, or quilted cotton coverlets, which serve as beds
and quilts to the natives. The explosion of powder sets fire to this
cotton very readily, and it may be easily conceived how horrible are
the consequences where a number of these sepoys and Nujeebs get into a
place whence there is no escape, and where they fall in heaps by our
shot. The matches of the men and the discharges of their guns set fire
to their cotton clothing; it is fed by the very fat of the dead
bodies; the smell is pungent and overpowering, and nauseous to a
degree. I looked in at two such rooms, where, through the dense smoke,
I could see piles of bodies; and I was obliged to own that the horrors
of the hospital at Sebastopol were far exceeded by what I witnessed.
Upwards of 300 dead were found in the courts of the palace, and, if we
put the wounded carried off at 700, we may reckon that the capture of
the place cost the enemy 1000 men at least. The rooms of the building
round the numerous courts were for the most part small and dark,
compared with the great size of the corridors and garden enclosures.
The state-saloon, fitted up for durbars and entertainments, once
possessed some claims to magnificence, which were, however, now lying
under our feet in the shape of lustres, mirrors, pier-glasses, gilt
tables, damask, silk and satin, embroidered fragments of furniture,
and marble tables, over which one made his way from place to place
with difficulty. The camp-followers were busily engaged in selecting
and carrying away such articles as attracted their fancy—shawls,
_resais_, cushions, umbrellas, swords, matchlocks, tom-toms or drums,
pictures, looking-glasses, trumpets; but the more valuable plunder
disappeared last night. It will be long before a Begum can live here
in state again. Every room and wall and tower are battered and
breached by our shot.’
Footnote 148:
‘It having been understood that several small pieces of ordnance
captured in the city have been appropriated by individuals, all
persons having such in their possession are directed at once to make
them over to the commissary of ordnance in charge of the park.
‘It is reported to the commander-in-chief that the Sikhs and other
native soldiers are plundering in a most outrageous manner, and refuse
to give up their plunder to the guards told off for the express
purpose of checking such proceedings. His excellency desires that
strong parties, under the command of European officers, be immediately
sent out from each native regiment to put a stop to these excesses.
‘Commanding officers of native regiments are called upon to use their
best endeavours to restore order, and are held responsible that all
their men who are not on duty remain in camp, and that those who are
on duty do not quit their posts.
‘All native soldiers not on duty are to be confined to camp till
further orders, and all who may now be on duty in the city are to be
relieved and sent back to camp.
‘All commanding officers are enjoined to use their best endeavours to
prevent their followers quitting camp.’
Footnote 149:
Chap. xxi. p. 369.
Footnote 150:
‘Though we are all in the town, our camp and hospital are still in the
old place. While I write this in my tent in camp, the thermometer is
at 100 degrees; not a breath of wind, and the flies—I can pity the
Egyptians now—the tent is filled with them, and everything edible
covered with them. We drink and eat flies, and in our turn are eaten
by them. They nestle in your hair, and commit the most determined
suicides in your tea or soup. Old-fashioned looking crickets come out
of holes and stare at you; lizards run wildly across the tent; and
ants by the thousand ply their wonted avocations utterly unmindful of
your presence. When night arrives, it becomes a little cooler, the
candles are lit, all the flies (save the suicides) have gone to roost
upon the tent-poles, and you fancy that your troubles are over. Vain
hope! the tent-doors are open; in flies a locust, hops into some dish,
kicks himself out again, hitting you in the face, and finally bolts
out at the opposite door. Then comes a flock of moths, all sizes and
shapes, which dart madly at the lights. At last you put out your
candle, and get into bed, when a new sound commences. Hum, hum,
something soft and light settles on your face and hands: a sensation
of red-hot needles intimates that the mosquitoes are upon you. The
domestic flea and bug also abound; their appetites quite unimpaired by
the climate. Jackals and pariah dogs yell and howl all night. Day
dawns, and you have your flies down upon you lively as ever. This will
give you some idea of our tent comforts.’
Footnote 151:
‘From the 2d to the 16th of March a series of masterly operations took
place, by which the commander-in-chief, nobly supported in his
well-laid plans of attack by the ability and skill of the general
officers, and by the indomitable bravery and resolution of the
officers and men of all arms, drove the rebels successively from all
their strongly fortified posts, till the whole fell into the
possession of our troops. That this great success should have been
accomplished at so little cost of valuable lives, enhances the honour
due to the leader who has achieved it.’ After mentioning the
remarkable services rendered by Outram during more than five months in
the Residency and the Alum Bagh, Viscount Canning could not do other
than recognise the crowning service of that distinguished man, as the
second in command under Campbell during the great operations of March.
[Illustration:
BARRACKPORE.
]
CHAPTER XXVI.
MINOR EVENTS IN MARCH.
Having briefly narrated in the last chapter the progress of Sir Colin
Campbell’s army in Oude, from the beginning towards the close of March;
it now becomes expedient to watch the operations of those military
officers who, during the same month, were engaged in services in other
parts of India. The achievements were not so great in magnitude or
notoriety, but they do not the less require to be noticed: seeing that
they illustrate the state of feeling among the native population, the
fluctuations of fortune among the rebels, and the struggles of British
officers amid great difficulties.
As in former chapters, there will be a convenience in beginning with the
Calcutta regions, and transferring attention successively to the west,
northwest, and southwest.
The Anglo-Indian capital was shorn of somewhat of its splendour during
the spring months, by the absence of the governor-general at Allahabad;
but in truth this was a secondary matter; for it was not a time for
levees, gaieties, or vice-regal presentations and splendour. Calcutta
experienced a panic so late in the history of the mutiny as the 3d of
March—one of many to which a somewhat excitable population had been
exposed. A telegraphic message was received from Barrackpore, to the
effect that the sepoys of two native regiments at that station—the 2d
and the 23d B. N. I.—were deserting in bodies of ten or twelve; and that
the deserters were supposed to be making their way to Calcutta. The
officers of the volunteer guards were at once requested to send pickets
to certain unprotected buildings in Calcutta. Very speedily these
pickets were told off; cavalry patrolled the streets all night; the
artillerymen remained watchful within the fort; and the English troops
present were kept under arms. The rumour proved to have been greatly
exaggerated, and the suspected danger passed away—but not without
causing much trepidation among the unwarlike portion of the Calcutta
community.
So numerous were the European troops that arrived at Calcutta during the
winter, and so obvious the necessity for increasing the strength of that
branch of the army in India, that preparations were made for
accommodating them within easy reach of the capital. Barrackpore,
although well supplied with sepoy lines, had never held European troops
in large number. It was now resolved, instead of building new European
barracks at that place, to increase those at Chinsura. This town, about
twenty miles from Calcutta, on the banks of the Hoogly, had already a
fine European barrack and military hospital, in a very healthy spot.
About the month of March, many hundred men were set to work, to increase
the barrack accommodation to a level with the wants of five thousand
European troops, and to raze all the buildings within five hundred yards
on all sides, to form parade-grounds, &c.
In the regions north and east of Calcutta, the materials for rebellion
were pretty nearly exhausted. There had from the first been only a small
amount of disturbance in those districts; and it became gradually
evident that the town and village population were desirous of continuing
their peaceful avocations, uninterrupted by mutinous sepoys or fanatical
Mohammedans.
It was in many ways fortunate that the recently acquired province of
Pegu had remained peaceful during the dangerous periods of the mutiny.
Had revolt or treason been at work in that quarter, the embarrassment of
the government would have been seriously aggravated. Disturbances, it is
true, did take place; but they were not of such magnitude as to give
occasion for alarm. This was mainly owing to the policy of the King of
Burmah. We had taken from him a rich province, a slice out of his
empire, by a mingled course of war and politics; and he was no more
likely to be content with that result than any other defeated monarch.
But he was a shrewd observant man; he measured the power of England, and
saw reason to believe that he would weaken rather than strengthen
himself by any hostility at this time. There were not wanting those near
him who urged him to a different policy. Burmah, like other countries,
had its war-party, who kept up a spirit of bitterness towards the
British. This party was headed by the king’s brother, and by many of the
old dispossessed Burman officials of Pegu. There is reason to believe
that, had the strength of the rebels in Oude remained much longer
unbroken, the King of Burmah might have been drawn or driven into
hostility in spite of himself. Whenever news came over from the opposite
side of the Bay of Bengal, the Mohammedans resident in Burmah made the
most of such parts of it as indicated a decline of the English ‘raj,’
and gave strength to a feeling among the Burmese which the king might
not much longer have been able to resist. In the early part of 1857
there were four European regiments in Pegu; but the urgent demands from
India had led to the withdrawal of all these, except a wing of the 2d
Madras Europeans at Toungoo, and a few of H.M. 29th at Thayetmyo; and
even of native Madras troops in Pegu, the number was but small. There
was a time, in the autumn of that year, when the war-party might have
wrought serious mischief to British interests; but when steam-frigates,
corvettes, gun-boats, and regiments from various quarters began to shew
themselves at Rangoon or in the Irrawaddy, or were known to be passing
up the Bay towards Calcutta, the chances were altered. Instead of
fighting, the king did a much wiser thing, whether from humane or from
politic motives—he subscribed ten thousand rupees towards the Mutiny
Relief Fund.
West and southwest of Calcutta, in a part of India very imperfectly
known to Europeans, tranquillity was occasionally disturbed, not so much
by mutinous sepoys, as by ambitious chieftains desirous of strengthening
themselves in a time of anarchy and uncertain allegiance. In the region
around Chyabassa, many petty occurrences from time to time kept the few
Europeans in anxiety. There were not many rebel sepoys in that quarter,
it is true; but, on the other hand, there were few troops of any kind to
aid Captain Moncrieff, the senior assistant-commissioner. A semi-savage
tribe, called Coles or Koles, infested the neighbourhood. On the 25th of
March, three thousand of these Coles, with a medley of guns, muskets,
and native weapons of all kinds, assembled at Chuckerderpore, where
Moncrieff had a small camp of marines and two guns; they were, however,
dispersed by a mere handful of men, and three of their guns taken. This
district was kept in an agitated state mainly by the machinations of a
turbulent chieftain, the Rajah of Porahat.
Let us advance, however, to those regions where the audacity of the
insurgents was more seriously felt—the regions of the Middle Ganges and
the Lower Jumna. The Lower Ganges, between Calcutta and Dinapoor,
remained peacefully in the hands of cultivators and traders, who were
glad enough to be free from the visitations of fighting-men; but from
Dinapoor upwards the sources of discordance were numerous. A few
mutineers lurked about, aided by a much larger proportion of desperate
characters, who took service under chieftains (mostly Mohammedan) bent
upon increasing their own power at the expense of the British.
The Azimghur district, nearly north of Benares, became in March the
scene of a conflict which certainly gave a triumph for a time to the
enemy, although it was favourable to the British in the first instance.
This conflict took place on the 21st at Atrowlia, between a body of
insurgents on the one side, and a small force under Colonel Millman of
H.M. 37th, commandant of the Azimghur field-force. Being in camp at
Koelsa, he received information from Mr Davies, magistrate of Azimghur,
that a considerable body of mutineers was in the neighbourhood of
Atrowlia, a place about twenty-five miles from that city. The colonel
immediately set out, with about 260 infantry, cavalry, and gunners, and
two pieces of ordnance—his troops being British and Madrasses. At
daybreak on the 22d, he espied the enemy—chiefly sepoys of the Dinapoor
brigade, who had followed the fortunes of Koer Singh—posted in several
topes of mango-trees. His infantry of the 37th, his Madras cavalry under
Colonel Cumberlege, and his two guns, speedily discomfited the enemy and
put them to flight; but his day’s work was not ended. While his men were
halting in the neighbourhood of Atrowlia, and breakfast was being
prepared among the topes of trees, news was suddenly brought that the
rebels were advancing in great force. Millman, immediately proceeding
with some skirmishers to ascertain their strength, found them strongly
posted behind a mud-wall, in the midst of topes of trees and
sugar-canes. He sent back orders for his troops to advance; but the
enemy increased in number so rapidly, that he could not contend against
them; he retired slowly from Atrowlia to his camp at Koelsa, followed by
the enemy, who fired at a distance, and endeavoured to turn his flanks.
He made one dash with his cavalry; but news, or at least a rumour,
reaching the camp, that no fewer than 5000 rebels were approaching, such
a panic was created among his camp-followers, that many of the
hackery-drivers left their carts, and all the cooks ran away. The
colonel, perplexed both by his foes and his camp-followers, and
conscious that his camp was untenable in case of a night-attack, and
that adequate supplies would be wanting for his men—deemed it expedient
to retreat to Azimghur, which he did the same day. He was compelled to
abandon a portion of his tents and baggage, which fell into the hands of
the enemy.
This was a vexatious and serious discomfiture. It told unfavourably in
two directions; for while it paralysed the exertions of the few British
officers and troops in that region, it afforded to the rebels an excuse
for vaunting abroad their prowess and success. The natives, inexplicable
in character to Europeans, were often incredulous to rumours of defeat
among their own countrymen; but rumours on the other side spread among
them with astounding rapidity, encouraging them to schemes of resistance
which they might possibly otherwise have avoided.
It was a natural consequence of the withdrawal from Atrowlia, and the
retreat to Azimghur, that the last-named station should itself become
imperiled; for a wide range of country was thus left wholly at the mercy
of Koer Singh and his associates. The British in Azimghur proceeded to
intrench themselves within the jail, which was surrounded by a deep
ditch; and every man was set to work to strengthen the fortifications.
The rebels gradually approached, to the number of four or five thousand;
and then the small garrison was fairly besieged—all the rest of the city
being in the hands of the insurgents. A messenger was despatched to
Benares on the 26th, to announce the state of affairs; but all that the
authorities at that place could do, on the spur of the moment, was to
send fifty dragoons in carts, drawn by bullocks and pushed on by
coolies. A telegraphic message was at the same time sent to Allahabad;
consequent upon which a wing of H.M. 13th foot, and the depôt of the 2d,
started off to Benares, for service at that place or at Azimghur. There
was a rumour that Koer Singh intended to attack Ghazeepore or Benares,
or both, on his way from Azimghur to Arrah; and this rumour led to much
entreaty for aid to the threatened stations.
It will hereafter be seen that Azimghur needed the care of Sir Colin
Campbell. Meanwhile we may notice the state of affairs in a district
somewhat further north.
The neighbourhood of Goruckpore was the scene of a contest early in
March. At that time there were assembled about 200 men of the naval
brigade, under Captain Sotheby, 200 Bengal yeomanry cavalry, 900
Goorkhas, a few Sikhs and four guns—under Colonel Rowcroft. This motley
but stanch garrison was attacked on the 5th in great force by several
influential rebels, who had with them an army of 12,000 men, including
3500 sepoys of mutinied Bengal regiments. Between eight o’clock and
noon, Rowcroft not only defeated this greatly superior force, but chased
the enemy seven miles, nearly to their encampment at Bilwa or Belwar.
The enemy lost 400 or 500 in killed and wounded, eight guns, and much
ammunition. Among the leaders of the rebels were the Nazim Mahomed
Hussein, Rajah Dabie Buksh of Gonda, the Rajah of Churdah, and Mehndee
Ali Hussein, who were all mounted on elephants. This victory was a very
fortunate one; for not only was Goruckpore saved from being a second
time overrun by insurgents, but Colonel Rowcroft received news that many
thousand villagers on the banks of the Gogra were ready to rise in
rebellion if he had been defeated. This kind of peril was constantly
impressed on the minds of the British officers; the consequences of a
disaster were always more than they could safely calculate.
A defeat was experienced by a small force in the Allahabad district
towards the close of March, owing to the want of due information
concerning the position and strength of the enemy. Two companies of H.M.
54th, a hundred Sikhs, a few Madras cavalry, and two guns, went out to
attack some rebels at a place called Suraon, between Allahabad and
Gopeegunje. Insufficiently informed of the locality, the force came
suddenly to a spot surrounded by a jungle, in which a large body of
rebels were concealed. Much to the astonishment of the magistrate of the
district, those rebels possessed six pieces of artillery; a fire was
opened, which wrought much mischief to the British force, and eventually
compelled it to retreat. This was a small affair, but it rendered the
authorities uneasy; for it shewed that within a few hours of Allahabad,
where the governor-general had temporarily taken up his quarters, there
were not only insurgents ready for mischief, but that those insurgents,
in some way and from some source not easily accounted for, had possessed
themselves of artillery.
Jung Bahadoor’s participation in the later stages of the siege of
Lucknow was noticed in the last chapter. He had entered Oude from the
east; and shortly before his junction with Sir Colin, his advanced
division had a sharp engagement with a force of the enemy, which may
briefly be noticed here. Captain Plowden was in charge of this division;
and under him were a few English and many Nepaulese officers, commanding
the Goorkha regiments of which the division consisted. Having received
information that the Nazim Mahomed Hussein, with a force of 4000 men,
intended to dispute the passage of Jung Bahadoor’s army at the road to
Lucknow over the Kandoo Nuddee, Captain Plowden prepared to contest the
matter with him. His division consisted of seven Goorkha regiments,
about 4000 strong, with thirteen guns. On the morning of the 5th of
March, he found the enemy drawn up in detached parties near the bridge;
he opened fire with his guns, and then charged with infantry in line.
His progress was much disturbed by an intervening space of bush-jungle
and deep ravines; nevertheless his Goorkhas charged resolutely, drove
back the enemy at all points, pursued them for two or three miles,
killed 600 of their number, and captured a gun—without losing more than
17 in killed and wounded. Captain Plowden, in his dispatch, told how he
had been aided by the Nepaulese General Khurruk Bahadoor, the two
brigadiers Junga Doje and Run Sing Bahadoor, Colonel Teela Bickrum Singh
Tappah, and other officers whose names present a formidable appearance.
The Nepaulese army pursued its way to Lucknow, and rendered a small
amount of assistance. When their services had terminated at that city,
Jung Bahadoor took a few of the best regiments with him to Allahabad, on
his expedition to an interview with the governor-general; but the main
body of his army marched off _viâ_ Nawabgunge, on the Fyzabad route,
towards the Nepaul and Goruckpore frontier. Whether Jung Bahadoor was
negotiating with Lord Canning concerning the price at which the services
of the Goorkhas were to be purchased; or whether any project was afoot
for transferring some of the Goorkha regiments formally to the British
service—was not made publicly known; but it was understood that the main
Nepaulese force would remain near Nawabgunge until after the interview
between the two great personages.
Of the wildly excited province of Oude, it is scarcely necessary to say
much here. The great event of the month, the siege of Lucknow, has
already been recorded; the other parts of the province were still almost
wholly in the hands of the insurgents. It will, however, contribute
towards an understanding of the state of the province in March, if we
advert to a few facts concerning the temporary occupants of the city of
Lucknow, and the arrangements made by Sir Colin affecting his army.
First, a word or two concerning the soldiery. It would be quite
impossible to say which regiments of the Queen’s army rendered most
service or behaved most valiantly; but the defence of Lucknow had been
so extraordinary in its character, that the government deemed it right
to notice specially the courage and fortitude of the 32d
infantry—Inglis’s main prop during his defence of the Residency from the
1st of July till the arrival of Havelock and Outram near the end of
September. There was put forth an announcement to the effect that ‘her
Majesty, in consideration of the enduring fortitude and persevering
gallantry displayed in defence of the Residency at Lucknow, has been
graciously pleased to command that the 32d be clothed, equipped, and
trained as a light infantry regiment, from the 26th of February 1858.
Her Majesty has also been pleased to command that the word “Lucknow”
shall be borne on the regimental colour of the 32d light infantry, in
commemoration of the enduring fortitude and persevering gallantry
displayed in the defence of the Residency of Lucknow for eighty-seven
days.’ Many of the other royal regiments had borne more fighting in the
open field; but none equalled the 32d in long enduring privation and
heroism, owing to the extraordinary circumstances in which the regiment
had been placed.
Next, concerning the city itself, the place which had undergone so
strange a series of sieges and defences. In Lucknow, after the
recapture, the shopkeepers gradually returned, opened their places of
business, and resumed commercial dealings. Many parts of the city had
been so battered by shot and shell that the buildings were scarcely
habitable; but as this only occurred to a small extent in the trading
streets, there was little interruption on that ground to the return of
the inhabitants. The chief obstacles were—the complicity of many of the
towns-people in the proceedings of the mutineers, and the impoverishment
of others by several days of fighting, anarchy, and plunder. The troops
destined for the defence of the city were quartered in some among the
many palaces, not so much battered by cannonading as the others. A clear
space was formed around the Kaiser Bagh, by the demolition of small
buildings; and operations were made for opening a wide street or avenue
entirely through the city, from the iron bridge to the canal—strategic
precautions, intended to give the garrison control over the city in case
of a turbulent rising. Precautions were in truth still necessary.
Lucknow had contained more ruffians, more desperate characters ready for
any lawless enterprises, than most other cities in India; and the
British authorities felt by no means certain that the lurking-places in
the narrow streets were yet cleared of them. The officers bore in mind,
with regret and resentment, that two of their companions had been
murdered in the city when the siege might have been deemed fairly over.
These two were Lieutenants Cape and Thackwell. They rode from the camp
into the city, but for what purpose was not clearly known to their
companions. They got off their horses, tied them to a doorpost, and went
into a house. It is supposed that budmashes, prowling about, shot them;
but the only certainty is that, when some of the Madras fusiliers went
out to search for them, the headless trunks of the two unfortunate
officers were all that remained to reveal the secret of their fate.
The details given in the last chapter will have rendered evident the
fact that the escape of the rebels from Lucknow after the siege was far
more complete than the English public had expected or wished. How far it
disappointed those immediately responsible, no one but themselves knew.
A secrecy enveloped the plans of the commander-in-chief; he told just so
much as he wished to be known, and kept the rest to himself, or shared
it with the governor-general. Whether foreseen or not, however, the
escape of the rebels was very marked and significant. Sir Hope Grant and
other cavalry leaders endeavoured to check them, but the check was of
small account; in truth, the cavalry were too few for a belt of country
so wide. When the fact became indisputably clear that the main body of
insurgents had got away, the question arose—whither? The camping-grounds
of the fugitive rebels were very imperfectly known to the British
authorities. It was supposed, but on uncertain information, that, at the
end of the month of March, Nena Sahib was at Bareilly, with 2000 men,
and many members of his family; that the Begum of Oude was at Khyrabad,
with nearly 10,000 men; that 2000 more were near Shahjehanpoor; and that
Khan Bahadoor Khan was concocting some scheme of operations with the
Nena, having Rohilcund for its theatre. These were the suppositions,
founded on vague data.
One thing Sir Colin speedily decided on. It was useless to keep a fine
army at Lucknow, while so much serious work had to be done elsewhere. As
already mentioned, he broke up his ‘army of Oude’ into separate
portions. Jung Bahadoor having taken his departure with his nine
thousand Nepaulese, the commander-in-chief proceeded to organise columns
or divisions for special service in various directions. On the 29th of
March Sir Colin issued a general order, pointing to the forthcoming
duties of these portions of the army. The 5th and 78th regiments were to
march from the Alum Bagh to Cawnpore. The artillery at the Alum Bagh was
to be divided, some to return to the camp at Lucknow, the rest to join
the 5th regiment. The troops to be left at Lucknow were to be formed
into a division under Sir Hope Grant. This was to comprise H.M. 20th,
28th, 33d, 53d, 90th, and 93d infantry, the 2d Dragoon Guards, three
Punjaub regiments of horse, and various detachments of artillery and
engineers, with Brigadiers W. Campbell and Barker as subordinate
commanders. Sir Edward Lugard was to form and command a division to be
called the ‘Azimghur Field-force,’ to consist of H.M. 10th regiment,
various detachments of cavalry, artillery, and engineers, and whatever
troops might at that time be in the Azimghur district. The infantry of
this force was to form a brigade under Brigadier Douglas; and the
destination was the district from which the force was named—a district,
as we have lately seen, greatly endangered by the presence of a large
rebel force. Indeed, so urgent was the need for aid in that quarter,
that Lugard started off at once. Another division, for service in
Rohilcund, was placed under the command of General Walpole. It comprised
H.M. 42d, 79th, and 93d infantry, two battalions of the Rifle Brigade,
the 1st Bengal Europeans, two regiments of native infantry, H.M. 7th
Hussars and 9th Lancers, three regiments of Punjaub cavalry, the Naval
Brigade from H.M. steamer _Shannon_, and various detachments of
artillery and engineers. Everything portended that this division would
have hot work before it—hot both in the common and the figurative sense;
for the powerful sun of the month of April would soon pour down on the
heads of the troops; while it was quite certain that Rohilcund contained
a large number of mutinied sepoys, rebel leaders, and desperate men
ready for any deeds of violence and anarchy.
It may here suitably be mentioned, that Sir Colin Campbell’s experience
of Oudian warfare taught him the necessity of caution in all attacks on
the forts with which that province was so fully provided. His officers
would have dashed at them, as at other obstacles; but he forbade
enterprises likely to be followed by losses which good guns might
obviate. On the 24th of March, just when the army of Oude was about to
be broken up, he issued a general order concerning the arrangements to
be made for attacking such strongholds.[152]
Quitting Oude for a time, and transferring attention to the important
and fertile Doab between the Ganges and the Jumna, we shall see that the
month of March found that part of India still much distracted by
fighting and lawless violence. True, Allahabad was in British hands at
one end of it, Delhi at the other, Cawnpore and Agra at intermediate
points; but nevertheless there were numerous bands of rebels roaming
about the open country. Whether two or three of these towns were on
river-banks just beyond the Doab, does not affect the question, which is
not one of mere geographical nomenclature.
The Lower Doab was brought more fully than before within the influence
of military control, by the opening of a further portion of the great
trunk-railway to Futtehpoor, placing that town within a few hours’
distance of Allahabad. This opening took place on the 25th of March;
when Viscount Canning, with nearly all the civil officers of the
last-named city, made the inaugurating journey to Futtehpoor, amid the
holiday accompaniments of flags, triumphal arches, bands of music,
feasting, and speech-making. Further to the northwest, Cawnpore remained
a kind of central point, whence troops could be sent to quarters where
they were most needed. A few regiments only were kept there, sufficient
to guard against sudden surprises. All the British who entered the place
beheld with melancholy interest the cross erected near the terrible well
by the men of the 32d, in memory of the women and children of that
regiment, included among the victims of Nena Sahib.
There was an important town, southwest of Cawnpore, which seemed likely
to be a scene of warfare. During the month of March, it became very
apparent that Calpee was a spot which would speedily require attention
on the part of the military authorities. When Sir Colin Campbell
defeated the Gwalior mutineers at Cawnpore, many weeks earlier, they
fled from that neighbourhood. Rumours spread around that a considerable
portion of the defeated force had fled southwest to Calpee, fortified
themselves there, and called upon the neighbouring zemindars for
supplies of men and money—both of which were forthcoming. The truth of
this rumour, doubtful for a time, became confirmed as the spring
advanced. It was now certain that rebels in great force occupied Calpee,
well supplied with artillery and other munitions of war, and eagerly
watching for a chance of making an attack on Cawnpore—should that
oft-besieged place be left at any time insufficiently guarded. To what
extent Nena Sahib or his brothers were connected with this Calpee force,
was not known. The struggles in and near that town belong to a month
beyond that to which this chapter relates.
The great city of Agra remained peacefully in the hands of the British.
Occasionally, small columns were sent out to attack and disperse bodies
of mutineers who were working mischief in the country districts; but the
formidable brigades of mutinied regiments were not in that quarter. As
one instance; on the 11th of March, Brigadier Showers found it necessary
to chastise some rebels at Bah, in the Agra district. He set forth with
two companies of the 8th foot, 400 of the Sikh police, two guns, a
howitzer, and a mortar; and encountered a motley force of 4000
rebels—comprising three troops of insurgent cavalry, three companies of
infantry, and a body of escaped convicts. These ruffians had assaulted
and captured the town of Bah, plundered all the houses, carried off the
cattle, and murdered some of the wealthier inhabitants. This body of
rebels appeared to have come from the direction of the Gwalior
territories across the Chumbul. Many of their leaders had been in the
civil service of the Company, but turned rebels when they thought
rebellion would be more profitable. Against these men Brigadier Showers
marched from Agra. A strange wild contest ensued. The enemy did not
stand to fight a battle, but made use of ravines, rocks, temples, topes,
and villages as places whence masked attacks might be effected. There
were no roads thereabouts, and Showers experienced much difficulty in
struggling through jungles and ravines.
It was often difficult for the officers in command to muster troops
enough to put down these bands of insurgents. At one period during the
month, Colonel Riddell marched out from Minpooree to aid in intercepting
fugitives from Lucknow. While he was gone, information arrived that
Etawah was threatened by a large body of rebels. No aid being available
from Minpooree, a telegraphic message was sent on to Futteghur
(Furruckabad); and Colonel Seaton immediately ordered a regiment of
Bengal Europeans to march to the threatened spot. These minor operations
were often very harassing to the troops, who had to march great
distances, and wage contests which did not bring them so much glory as a
regular siege or a great battle. Officers naturally preferred those
battle-fields which would bring their names in honourable form into the
official gazettes; and private soldiers those which might earn for some
of them the Victoria Cross; but many weary months passed over some of
the corps, during which the troops were engaged in harassing pursuit of
marauders and ruffians whom they heartily despised, and to conquer whom
brought them very little increase of military reputation.
Speaking generally, it may be said that, at the end of March, the
efforts made by the British officers in the Doab were directed chiefly
to prevent the escape of rebels across the Ganges from Oude. One small
force was watching to this intent at and near Cawnpore; another was in
the Minpooree district; a third was marching down the road from Meerut
to Futteghur; while two others, under Chamberlain and Coke, were
endeavouring to control the Gangetic valley between Futteghur and
Roorkee.
Further to the northwest, the region around Delhi was nearly all in
British hands, and the city itself wholly so—all the mutinous regiments
being far away. The authorities, after Delhi had remained several months
peacefully in their hands, resolved on the formation of a camel corps,
under a peculiar system of organisation. It was completed by the end of
March, by a native named Lalla Jotee Pershaud, under the superintendence
of Captain Chalmers, assistant commissary-general. The camels, 400 in
number, were selected with great care, in the Bikaneer district. The
drivers were armed each with a sword and fusil; and each camel was
fitted to carry a European soldier if necessary. The drivers, equivalent
to troopers or cavalry-men, were carefully selected from the natives of
Rajpootana. The purpose in view was to form a corps of armed men capable
of moving with great rapidity to any spot where their services might be
urgently needed. Lalla Jotee Pershaud was a wealthy and influential man;
and it was intended to make the officering of the corps such as would
render it an acceptable compliment to friendly natives of good position.
As to the city itself, no semblance of fighting was presented. The
conquest by Sir Archdale Wilson, half a year before, had been so
complete, that no enemy remained to fight with. The British kept just
sufficient reliable troops in the place to defend it from surprise; but
the authority was mainly transferred to civil commissioners, who
gradually re-established order and reorganised the revenue department.
The old king still resided there, waiting for his time of punishment. A
special tribunal tried and executed a large number of rebels.
A curious struggle of opinions arose on the question—What should be done
with Delhi? Not only within that city itself, but all over India, the
controversy was maintained with much earnestness. The opinions resolved
themselves into three varieties—advocating destruction, decay, and
conservation, respectively. When the city was captured, a very general
desire was expressed, under the influence of fierce indignation, to
destroy the place altogether, leaving not one stone upon another to tell
where Delhi had been—or rather, leaving the stones to tell where Delhi
had ceased to be. The destructives, if these persons may thus be called,
argued that Delhi should be extinguished from the list of cities,
because it was the centre of disaffection, the scene of the first and
worst stroke levelled at British power; that the Mohammedans of India
would ever think they had a national rallying-point, so long as Delhi
remained; and that the destruction of this rallying-point would impress
them with an idea of British power. The place has a charm for native
ears; it is a sign, a symbol, a standard, a flag of nationality, the
memory of which should be effaced, as something dangerous to the future
security of the British ‘raj.’ Delhi, they urged, should be regarded
rather as a dynastic than a commercial capital; everything in it recalls
the past greatness of a race which had just been foremost in mutiny. For
all these reasons—destroy Delhi. Gradually there arose a second party,
who suggested decay rather than destruction. They said: ‘Destroy Delhi,
and it would be perpetually an object of regret to the followers of
Islam; but Delhi decayed would excite only a feeling of contempt. No
tradition of sovereignty could attach to a dirty little village in which
a population of pauper Mussulmans, around the ruins of old palaces,
scrambled for the charity of a contemptuous traveller.’ They recommended
that the European troops at Delhi should be removed to Hansi, where they
might be easily accommodated; that the arsenal should be removed to
Ferozpore; or that an entirely new European city should be built, lower
down the Jumna; and that Delhi should then be left to be supported by
natives alone, burdened by a special taxation as a punishment for
treason—this, it was believed, would gradually rob the city of all its
dignity and importance. But there arose a third party, to which, it was
reputed, no less a personage than Sir John Lawrence belonged, urging the
preservation of Delhi. The grounds for this advice were many and
important. It was pointed out, among other things—that Delhi is
admirably placed, geographically and politically; that its site was
selected by men who looked primarily to the maintenance of power in the
northwestern regions of India; that, as a commercial entrepôt, it is the
point at which the two great streams of Central Asian trade diverge to
Calcutta and Bombay; that, as a military cantonment, the city commands
the Jumna at the best point for crossing the river; that it is the most
central point from which the marauding Goojurs and Meewatties could be
controlled; that the imperial palace would form an admirable fortress,
to be garrisoned by British troops; and that the walls, brought at one
point within a narrower sweep, would keep out plunderers and protect the
magazine.
Whatever was to be the course pursued, Delhi remained, at the period to
which this chapter relates, undestroyed. The city-wall was still
standing, with the breaches hastily earthed up; all the gates had been
closed, except the Cashmere, Lahore, and Calcutta Gates, but none
destroyed; the fractured Cashmere Gate had been replaced by a temporary
wooden barrier; the English church had been painted and repaired; the
college, riddled by cannon and musket balls, had been converted into a
barrack; the magazine remained as poor Willoughby had left it, half
blown up; and the palace had not suffered very materially from the
siege. Concerning the principal street of the city, an eye-witness wrote
as follows: ‘The Chandnee Chowk is the only street we have seen in India
to which the terms of descriptive admiration bestowed on European cities
justly apply. If the traveller does not examine details too minutely,
the cheerful picturesque aspect of the Chandnee Chowk may remind him for
a moment of the Parisian boulevards. In the centre of a spacious street
is a double row of well-grown trees, on either side a broad roadway
flanked by irregular picturesque buildings. But if we speak of this
street as being in 1858 cheerful, we can allude only to its
architectural structure. Neither its associations nor its own present
accompaniments and accessories are other than gloomy. Every house has
been plundered; and the little show of property, as it begins again
under the protection of British bayonets slowly to accumulate, cannot
disguise the ruin which 1857 has created. To a stranger, the population
that flows up and down the shining street would seem large; but to one
who saw Delhi and the Chandnee Chowk before the rebellion, it is but as
the ghost of the former life of the place that moves to and fro. There
is the mosque where Nadir Shah sat and witnessed his great massacre.
There is the Kotwallee or police-station, whereat were exposed the
bodies of murdered Europeans, and afterwards of their murderers the
princes, whom Hodson slew. In front of this building stand now three
large gibbets, whereon have been already justly executed between two and
three hundred of those who joined in the murder and rapine of the 11th
of May, and on which more culprits are destined yet to pay for their
crimes. Everywhere the demeanour of the native population is more than
respectful to the Europeans—it is cringing. Fear possesses every soul.
Never was a conquest more thorough than is for the present that of Delhi
and its neighbourhood by the British. The present disposition of the
native mind in Delhi towards us, of terror and trembling obedience, is
one which no wise man can wish permanently to continue. It is a
disposition, however, which no wise man will deny that it was necessary
temporarily to create, if the mild uniformity of British rule was ever
again to be asserted in Delhi.’ In connection with these observations,
it may be stated that the cringing servility of the natives, so manifest
at Delhi, was by no means so evident in Oude and the Doab. A sullen
haughtiness, or perhaps a fierce vindictiveness, was visible on the
countenances of a very large percentage of those natives with whom the
British came into contact, telling of discontent, or of hostile passion.
[Illustration:
Kootub Minar, near Delhi.
]
Of Rohilcund it is not necessary to say much in this chapter. The
greater part of it still continued, as it had been for nine months, in
the hands of the rebels; and in addition to this, many of the escaped
mutineer regiments from Lucknow had unquestionably directed their steps
to this province, to swell the numbers of those who were in arms against
the British. General Walpole was sent out against them with a powerful
column; what he achieved, we shall see in the proper place.
That part of Rohilcund which constitutes the ‘Hills,’ the group of
healthy hill-stations at the base of the Himalaya, though nearly cut off
from communication with the Jumna regions, maintained itself bravely,
never once falling into the hands of the armed insurgents. Colonel
M’Causland, military commandant in Kumaon, so steadily and watchfully
maintained British interests in that remote hilly province, that he
generally detected hostile machinations in time to frustrate them. He
had chiefly Goorkhas for troops, Rohilcund rebels for opponents; and he
seldom failed to baffle and defeat those rebels, whether his force were
great or small. Early in March he heard that the insurgents had sent a
detachment to collect revenue—that is, to plunder—at Sitargunje, a place
twenty-five miles from his camp at Huldwanee. He determined to surprise
them; and although the success was not so great as he could have wished,
through the unexpected absence of the larger part of the enemy’s force,
still those who were met with were speedily vanquished. He intrusted the
enterprise to Captain Baugh, who commanded the Nepaul Contingent in the
Kumaon brigade. Baugh started off on the evening of the 3d, taking with
him about 220 horse and foot, and two mountain howitzers. To expedite
matters, he mounted his infantry and artillery on elephants; but during
the night his progress was retarded ‘by an elephant carrying one of the
mountain howitzers falling sick.’ Arriving at Sitargunje early in the
morning of the 4th, he found that the main body of rebels had departed
on the preceding day to a village about six miles distant. Most of those
remaining were within the government tehseel, a high building forty or
fifty yards square; and these did not fight; they fell or escaped as
their individual luck determined. Captain Baugh brought away from the
place whatever he thought might be most useful. Finding that the main
body of the insurgents, under Fuzul Huq, numbered not less than 5000
men, with six guns, he did not deem it prudent to march after them with
his little force to Butteree, the village where they were on that day
encamped, about midway between Huldwanee and Bareilly.
The Punjaub and Sirhind continued to be nearly free from anarchy. Yet
there were symptoms which, if left unattended to, might have led to
evil. The 4th regiment Bengal native cavalry, one of the last remaining
links in that fine army, was disarmed and unhorsed at Umballa during the
month of March. After ten months of faithfulness, amid the treachery of
so many of their compatriots, these troopers at length exhibited a
tendency to insubordination, not safely to be overlooked. In the Punjaub
generally the movements of troops were very frequent and rapid, shewing
that the authorities were well on the alert. Wishing to obtain a healthy
military station west of the Indus, the brigadier in command laid the
foundation of Campbellpore—a station named in honour of the
commander-in-chief. This custom was often adopted in India: witness
Jacobabad and Sleemanabad.
One of the most instructive facts brought to light during the wars of
the mutiny, was the ardour with which some of the natives of India
joined in waging battle with others. During the first and second Sikh
wars, the sepoys of the Bengal native army unquestionably fought
heroically against the Sikhs, winning battles in a way that excited the
admiration of their British officers. And now the Sikhs shewed
themselves equally willing to aid the British against the sepoys, and
equally able to vanquish them in the field. Two inferences may
legitimately be drawn from this—that success depended rather on the
British officers than on the kind of troops whom they commanded; and
that the maintenance of an army formed of any one nation in India is not
so safe as the admixture of nationalities, each to act as a check upon
the other. The subject is adverted to in this place, because the month
of March witnessed the return of the Guides to Peshawur, and the honours
that marked that event. It will be remembered[153] that this celebrated
corps, chosen among the Punjaubees for their activity and intelligence,
consisted of two small regiments, one of infantry and one of cavalry;
that they made an extraordinary march of 750 miles, from Peshawur to
Delhi, in the hot weather of June 1857; and that they served most
gallantly in the operations against that city during the autumnal
months. They remained until February in and near Delhi, and then
returned to their native country. Major-general Cotton, commanding in
the Peshawur division, made a point of giving the gallant fellows an
honorary reception. He caused all the troops in the Peshawur cantonment
to be paraded on the 16th of March. On the approach of the Guides to the
parade-ground, the assembled troops saluted and the guns fired; the
major-general delivered an address; a _feu de joie_ and an ordnance
salute of twenty guns followed; and the Guides marched past him in full
military array. Captain Battye, who had commanded the cavalry portion of
the force, was killed almost immediately on the arrival of the Guides at
Delhi; but Captain Daly lived to return. Cotton addressed Daly and his
companions first, welcoming them back to Peshawur; and then he addressed
the Peshawur force generally, telling them of the wonderful march which
the Guides had made nine months before, and of their deeds at Delhi.
‘Within three hours after reaching Delhi, the Guides engaged the enemy,
and every one of their officers was wounded. For nearly four months,
officers and men were almost constantly in action, sometimes twice a
day. They took 600 men to Delhi, and received 200 recruits during the
siege. Not one man deserted to the enemy or from the corps; but no less
than 350 were killed and wounded, and 120 fell to rise no more. I need
not dwell on their separate deeds of valour, their general actions,
their skirmishes, or their single combats; but as a specimen of the
spirit that animated the corps, I will mention that a mere boy, Singh by
name, bore a wounded European soldier out of the battle.’
In connection with this subject, it may be remarked that the personal
character of the British officers has always exercised a very notable
influence over the native troops of India. In Brigadier Hodgson’s
_Opinions on the Indian Army_, an anecdote is related, illustrative of
the power possessed over the sepoys by any commander whose prowess and
genius they had learned to value. A native officer, speaking to him of
events which he had himself witnessed, said: ‘During the campaign
against the Mahrattas, in the year 1804, we made a tremendous forced
march of 54 miles in 30 hours, and surprised Holkar and his cavalry at
Furruckabad, and routed them with great slaughter. We had marched 250
miles in 13 days. The troops had been upon very short commons for some
time; and you, sir, know what a tyrant a hungry belly is. The sepahees
(sepoys) began to be very loud in their grumblings, and expressed their
discontent pretty freely. This was reported. A short time afterwards,
Lick Sahib Bahadoor (Lord Lake) was observed riding past the column
_eating dry pulse_. This fact spread rapidly through the ranks; and from
that moment, not the whisper of a murmur was heard. I believe, sir, had
a man grumbled after that, he would have run the risk of being put to
death by his companions—such was the love and veneration the sepahees
had for Lick Sahib Bahadoor.’
Some of the half-savage mountain tribes of Peshawur and the Afghan
frontier gave occasional trouble; but neither there nor in Sinde were
the authorities prevented from sending reinforcements to the more
troubled provinces. In connection with Sinde, it may be mentioned that
Mr Frere, commissioner of that province, communicated a singular
document to Lord Elphinstone, governor of the Bombay presidency. It was
not directly connected with the mutiny or its instigators; but was
nevertheless deemed important by Mr Frere, as illustrating phases of
Hindoo character concerning which Europeans know so little. The
information was given by Mr Macdonald, deputy-collector of Larkhana, in
his weekly digest under date 20th of March. We transcribe it in a
foot-note.[154]
We may now conveniently turn our attention to Central India—that region,
south of the Jumna, in which Mahrattas and Bundelas were so strong. We
have stated in former chapters that Sir Hugh Rose, a distinguished
Bombay officer, was placed in command of various regiments and
detachments known collectively as the ‘Central India Field-force.’ He
was gradually working his way northward to the notorious city of Jhansi,
defeating rebels everywhere on his road. On the 4th of March, Sir Hugh
Rose was enabled to telegraph the following news, from his camp at
Peeplia: ‘Yesterday, the troops under my command forced the pass of
Mudenpore, after a short but very vigorous resistance. The troops,
British and native, behaved gallantly. The pass is extremely strong, and
the enemy suffered severely. They numbered about 4000 or 5000 Pathans
and Bundelas, and 600 or 700 sepoys of the 52d and other regiments. I
sent Major Orr in pursuit; and he cut up 50 or 60 rebels, of whom a
large proportion were sepoys. The enemy are scattered in every
direction. They have abandoned the little fortress of Seraj, a fort or
arsenal which is the property of the Rajah of Shagurh, in which I shall
have a small force to keep up my communication with Saugor. I am now in
communication with my first brigade (under Brigadier Stuart) at
Chendaree, and this gives me command of the whole of the country up to
Jhansi, with the exception of two or three forts, which I can take.’
About a week later, he sent news to Bombay that the capture of the pass
of Mudenpore—on the line of hills which separated the British district
of Saugor from the little state of Shagurh—and the defeat of the rebels
on the 3d, had produced advantages far exceeding those at first
anticipated by him. The rebels had successively abandoned several
strongholds which they had possessed—first the fort of Seraj, with four
guns, a rude manufactory for powder, shot and shell, carriages and
tents; then the town and fort of Murrowra, with a triple line of
defences; then the town and fort of Multhone; next the pass of Goonah;
then the pass and town of Hurat; and lastly, the fort of Cornel Gurh. As
all the passes had been fortified and barricaded, their precipitate
abandonment by the rebels was fortunate for Sir Hugh. Another result was
the occupation by him of the hitherto independent district of Shagurh;
the rajah having joined the rebels, Sir Robert Hamilton and Sir Hugh
Rose resolved to punish him by ‘annexing’ his small territory, or at
least occupying it until instructions could be received from Calcutta.
Accordingly, on the 10th of March, the British flag was hoisted at
Murrowra, in Shagurh, in presence of Rose’s second brigade, under a
salute of twenty-one guns. The encampment of the brigade at this time
was about twenty-five miles from Jhansi. Rose and Hamilton were well on
the alert; for Balla Sahib, brother of the Nena, was at that time
heading an army of rabble, and levying contributions in various parts of
Bundelcund. What troops this rebel had with him, was not clearly known;
but it was found that the Rajah of Chuanpore had been mulcted by him of
seven lacs of rupees; and the Rajah of Churkaree, resisting a similar
demand, had had his town destroyed by fire, and was compelled to take
refuge in his fort. Mr Carne, British resident in Churkaree, narrowly
escaped capture at the hands of the rebels.
While Rose was thus engaged, Brigadier Stuart, with the first brigade of
the Central India Field-force, was clearing out various rebel haunts in
districts lying southward of Jhansi. On the morning of the 6th of March,
Stuart’s column or brigade set out from his camp near the Chendaree
fort, and marched six or eight miles to Khookwasas, a fort near which a
large body of rebels were assembled. The route being through a thick
jungle nearly the whole distance, the 25th and 86th regiments advanced
cautiously, in skirmishing order. Arriving at a small pass near the
fort, Stuart found that the enemy had barricaded the road, and lined the
hills on either side with matchlockmen. The engineers soon cleared away
the barricades; while a small party of the 86th rushed up the hills and
dislodged the matchlockmen. Shortly afterwards, however, it was
ascertained that the chief body of the enemy had taken up a position
behind the wall of an enclosure about a mile from the fort. The 86th
dashed forwards to gain this enclosure; two of the officers, Lieutenant
Lewis and Captain Keating, climbed to its top before any of their men,
and jumped down into the interior of the enclosure. The troops soon
cleared out the enclosure, and then pursued their operations against the
fort itself. Working his way steadily onwards, defeating and expelling
bodies of insurgents from neighbouring villages, Stuart was at length
enabled, on the 17th, to capture the fort of Chendaree itself. This
place, situated in Malwah, about a hundred miles from Gwalior, is in a
district which was assigned by Scindia in 1844, according to agreement
with the British government, to assist in the maintenance of the Gwalior
Contingent. The fort—consisting of a strong rampart of sandstone,
flanked by circular towers, and crowning a high hill—was in the hands of
insurgents at the date now under notice; and it was Brigadier Stuart’s
duty to capture it. After cannonading on the evening of the 16th, he
formed a practicable breach in the walls, and resolved to take the place
by assault on the following morning. This he did very effectually. The
25th and 86th regiments, by an impetuous rush, carried everything before
them. Captain Keating was severely wounded whilst foremost with the
storming-party. The enemy mostly escaped, on account of the simple
failure of a letter. On the preceding evening, the brigadier received a
message informing him that Captain Abbott was within available distance
with a considerable body of irregular cavalry; and in return a letter
was despatched to Abbott, requesting him to gallop forward and invest
the north side of the fort. This letter did not reach Abbott in time;
and as a consequence, there was no obstacle to the escape of the rebels
northward. All the guns, eight of iron and two of brass, were taken. The
fort was given up to the keeping of one of Scindia’s lieutenants or
soubahs, in friendly relation with the British; and the inhabitants of
the town resumed their peaceful avocations, apparently glad to get rid
of the presence of the rebels.
Stuart’s operations at Chendaree greatly facilitated the advance of Sir
Hugh Rose towards Jhansi. He marched on, with the second brigade of his
Central India Field-force, and reached that blood-stained city on the
21st of March. He gave a sketch of his operations from the 20th to the
25th in the following brief telegraphic form: ‘On the 20th my cavalry
invested as much as possible the fort and town of Jhansi. The next day
the rest of my force arrived. The rebels have fortified the walls of the
town, and, shutting themselves up in the town and fort, have not
defended the advanced position of Jhansi. The ranee has left her palace
in the town, and has gone into the fort. The rebel garrison numbers
about 1500 sepoys, of whom 500 are cavalry, and 10,000 Bundelas, with 30
or 40 cannon. Their position is strong; but I have occupied two good
positions, one a breaching, the other a flanking one. I have been
delayed by the want of a plan of Jhansi, and consequently have been
obliged to make long and repeated reconnaissances. I opened a flanking
fire, vertical and horizontal, yesterday (the 25th), and hope to open a
breaching fire to-morrow, or at latest the next day.’ We shall see in a
later page that Sir Hugh completely succeeded in his assault, early in
April.
The present may be a proper place in which to advert to a matter which
greatly agitated the public mind from time to time, both in England and
India—namely, the conduct of the insurgents towards those of the British
who unfortunately fell into their power. Jhansi was one of the stations
in respect to which horror was most distressingly expressed. The morbid
taste for horrors engendered by the incidents of the Revolt gave rise to
many exaggerations. The terrible news from Delhi, Cawnpore, Jhansi, and
other places, during the early months of the struggle, produced mischief
in two ways; it created a demand for indiscriminate sanguinary
vengeance; and it produced a tendency, not only to believe, but to
exaggerate, all rumours of atrocities as committed by the natives. In
England as well as at Calcutta, controversies almost of a fierce
character arose on these points; the advocates on one side treating it
as a point of honour to believe the tragedies in their worst form; while
those on the other, in bitter terms demanded proof that the rumours were
true. It was extremely difficult to disprove any statements concerning
atrocities committed; for in most cases there were no Europeans left
behind to give trustworthy testimony. Circumstances became known, during
the progress of the military operations, which led to an inference that,
though inhuman slaughter of innocent persons unquestionably took place
soon after Delhi fell into the hands of the insurgents, it was not
preceded by so much of hideous barbarity towards the women and children
as had at first been reported and believed. It also became more and more
evident, as time advanced, that many of the inscriptions on the wall of
the slaughter-room at Cawnpore must have been written _after_ the
departure or death of the hapless persons whose writing they professed
to be, by some one who failed to see the cruelty of the hoax he was
perpetrating. This subject is adverted to in the present place, because
the month of March lightened a little the terrible severity of the story
of Jhansi, one of those which made a distressing impression on the
public mind. It will be remembered[155] that, early in June of the
preceding year, the British at Jhansi, upwards of fifty in number, were
all put to death by the insurgents, acting at the instigation of a
woman, the ranee or chieftainess of Jhansi; the destruction was so
complete, that no European was left to tell the true incidents. Nine
months afterwards, in the month of March, some of the English newspapers
in India gave a detail of revolting indignities said to have been
inflicted on the females of the party at Jhansi—greatly adding to the
distress already felt by the relatives of the murdered persons. Jhansi
had by that time been restored to British rule; and Captain Pinkney,
superintendent of Jhansi, Jaloun, and Chendaree, determined to ascertain
how far the real facts could be got at. After a diligent inquiry in
various quarters, he arrived at a belief that the massacre, however
barbarous, had not been deepened in atrocity by the frightful
circumstances put forth in the newspapers. The truth appeared to him to
be as follows: When the British in the fort were unable longer to hold
out through want of food, they surrendered to the rebels, who swore that
they would spare all their lives. No sooner, however, were the
fort-gates opened, than the rebels entered, bound the men, and took them
as well as the women and children to a place outside the city-walls
called the Jokun Bagh. Here the men were placed in one group, and the
women and children in another. The rebels and the ranee’s armed servants
then murdered all the men, Major Skene being the first cut down by the
jail darogah, one Bukshish Ali. After this the women and children were
put to death with swords and spears. The dead bodies were stripped, and
left two days in the Jokun Bagh, when they were all thrown into a
neighbouring stream. Shortly after the writing of Captain Pinkney’s
report, a letter was sent to the supreme government by Sir Robert
Hamilton, political agent in Central India, in which a few of the facts
were somewhat differently stated. According to his account, when the
unhappy Europeans reached the Jokun Bagh, ‘they were stopped on the
roadside under some trees. They were accompanied by a crowd of mutinous
sepoys, irregular sowars, disaffected police, fanatic Mussulmans, men in
the service of the ranee, inhabitants of the town, and rabble. Here
Bukshish Ali, jail darogah, called out: “It is the ressaldar’s order
that all should be killed;” and immediately cut down Captain (Major)
Skene, to whom he was indebted for his situation under government. An
indiscriminate slaughter of the men, women, and children then commenced;
all were mercilessly destroyed, and their bodies left strewn about the
road, where they remained until the third day, when, by permission of
the same ressaldar, they were all buried in two gravel-pits close by.’
Execrable as this was, it was far less harrowing than the newspaper
narratives which had given rise to the investigation. Captain Pinkney
ascertained that the total number of Europeans thus barbarously murdered
was sixty-seven, of whom just about one half were women and children.
Sir Robert Hamilton caused the ground around the two gravel-pits to be
cleared, and an enclosing wall to be built; he and all the other
officials, on a selected day, attended a funeral-service at the spot,
delivered by the Rev. Mr Schwabe, chaplain to the station; and he also
planned the erection of an obelisk. Strange that India should become the
ground for so many obelisks and crosses erected in memory of Europeans
ruthlessly murdered by natives. One hundred and two years before, in
1756, Suraj-u-Dowlah, after conquering Calcutta from the Company’s
servants, drove a hundred and forty-six adult Europeans, on a sultry
June evening, into a dungeon only twenty feet square; and of those
miserable creatures, a hundred and twenty-three died during the night,
of heat, thirst, pressure, suffocation, and madness. An obelisk was
afterwards set up, to mark this terrible ‘Black Hole of Calcutta.’ And
now, in the middle of the nineteenth century, the English again found
themselves engaged in erecting these damning memorials of native
brutality, at Cawnpore and at Jhansi.
[Illustration:
Obelisk built on the Site of the Black Hole, Calcutta, to commemorate
the Murder of the One Hundred and Twenty-three Englishmen.—From a
Drawing in the India House.
]
Leaving Jhansi and its mournful recollections for a while, we pass over
from the Mahratta territories into Rajpootana; where numerous petty
chieftains kept the territory in a state of much agitation. There were
scarcely any of the mutinied Bengal regiments in that part of India; but
the Kotah Contingent, and other auxiliary corps which had revolted,
sided with some of the chieftains in hostilities against the British. So
far as concerns the operations of the month of March, those of the Kotah
insurgents were the chief that call for attention. We have in former
pages alluded to a ‘Rajpootana Field-force,’ formed of several regiments
sent up from Bombay. The first division of this force set forth from
Nuseerabad on the 10th of March, for service against Kotah. It consisted
of H.M. 95th foot, a wing of the 83d, the 10th Bombay infantry, the
Sinde horse, and some horse and foot artillery. Siege-material of
formidable character accompanied the column; comprising eighteen
field-pieces, of which ten were 8-inch mortars and howitzers, and an
immense supply of ammunition. The second division, that started on the
following day, consisted of H.M. 72d foot, a wing of the 83d, the 1st
Bombay Lancers, a mountain train, Brown’s battery, and an engineering
corps. The 8th Hussars, with detachments of horse and foot artillery,
were afterwards to join the columns. Several of the guns in the
siege-train were drawn by elephants. Brigadier-general Lawrence
accompanied this field-force, but only in a political capacity; the
military command was held by General Roberts. The conquest of Kotah was
looked forward to as a difficult enterprise, not only from the force of
the enemy in men and guns, but from the peculiar position of the town
itself. Kotah is bounded by the deep river Chumbul on one side, and by a
lake on the other; and there was a probability that batteries would have
to be erected on the opposite side of the river. The approach to it by
land from Nuseerabad was also beset by many obstacles. It would be
necessary to traverse the Mokundurra Pass, a long and narrow valley
between two parallel ranges of hills, easily rendered formidable by a
small number of men. It was altogether a larger and more important
operation than the conquest of the numerous petty forts with which
Rajpootana abounded. Many persons in India thought that those forts
might safely be left to themselves; since the hill-chieftains were more
frequently incited by hostility towards each other than towards the
British, and since it was very little better than a waste of power to
pursue them into the wilds and jungles which intersect that part of
India. One favourable circumstance in connection with Kotah was, that
the rajah was faithful, and as much opposed as the British to the
insurgents.
The middle of the month was occupied by the march of Roberts’s force
from Nuseerabad, over a difficult country. Surmounting all obstacles,
the general arrived at Kotah on the 22d of March, and encamped a mile or
two distant, on the north bank of the Chumbul. The rebels were in
possession of the south bank, having with them a powerful array of guns,
many of large calibre. The fort, the palace, and half the city, were
held by the rajah, with Rajpoots and troops from Kerowlie. On the 25th,
a portion of the British, about 300 in number, under Major Heatley,
crossed the river, to aid the rajah at a critical moment. The rebels had
that morning made a desperate attempt to escalade the walls, and drive
the rajah’s troops into their only remaining stronghold, the castle; but
this attempt was frustrated; had it succeeded, the rebels would have
commanded the ferry over the river. Portions of H.M. 83d, and of the
Bombay troops, formed the small force which crossed the river on the
25th. Two days afterwards, 600 men of H.M. 95th, with two 9-pounders,
crossed over. On the 30th General Roberts was able to announce by
telegraph, ‘I this day assaulted the town of Kotah with complete
success, and comparatively trifling loss. No officer killed. The whole
town is in my possession.’ Upwards of fifty guns were captured. The
victory was gained by a clever flank-movement, which turned the enemy’s
position, and rendered their defences useless. This was a point in
tactics which the rebels seldom attended to sufficiently; they
repeatedly lost battles by allowing their flanks to be turned.
Eastward of the Mahratta and Rajpoot territories, there were isolated
bodies of insurgents in the Saugor regions, between the Jumna on the
north and Nagpoor on the south. But General Whitlock, with a field-force
gathered from the Madras presidency, kept these rebels under some
control. His movements, however, scarcely need record here.
The South Mahratta country kept up just so much disturbance as to demand
the vigilant attention of the authorities, without exciting any serious
apprehension. In the month of March there was much of this disturbance,
near the frontier between the two presidencies of Bombay and Madras, at
Belgaum. On the one side, the Bombay government offered a large reward
for the apprehension of three brothers, rebel leaders, Baba Desaee, Nena
Desaee, and Hunmunt Desaee; while the governor of the Madras presidency
put in force a disarming statute on his side of the frontier. One of the
leaders, Hunmunt Desaee, after many contests, was driven, with the wives
and families of others among the insurgents, into a tower on the summit
of a peak in the Coonung range; it was a one-storied structure, with a
ladder leading to an entrance trap-door. Such towers had been used by
the military police in that range, and Hunmunt defended himself here as
long as he could. There were other traitors in this part of the country.
Towards the close of March, Mr Manson, one of the Company’s civil
servants, obtained a clue to a conspiracy in which several natives—Naga
Ramchunder, Balla Bhoplay, Bhow Shrof Chowdry, and others—were
concerned; having for its object the collecting of guns unknown to the
British authorities, and the inciting of other natives to acts of
rebellion. One of these men was the chief of Jamkhundie, one a
money-lender, and two others were Brahmins. The money-lender was
supposed to have assisted the mutineers of Kolapore with pecuniary means
for carrying on their operations. By lodging these mischief-makers in
safe keeping at Belgaum and Satara, preparatory to a trial, the
authorities checked an incipient disturbance.
This little patch of country, inhabited to a considerable extent by the
southern Mahrattas, was the only part of the Bombay presidency south of
the city itself which was in any anxiety concerning the proceedings of
the insurgents. And indeed, northward of the city, there were no
manifestations of rebellion short of the regions around Gujerat and
Rajpootana; where even those who were disposed to be peaceful found
themselves embarrassed and imperiled by the turbulence of their
neighbours. In Gujerat, Sir Richmond Shakespear commenced and steadily
carried on a general disarming of the population; the Guicowar or native
sovereign cordially assisted him, and the two together collected many
guns and thousands of stands of arms. As to the Madras presidency, it
was quite at peace. From Cuttack in the north to Travancore in the
south, there were no rebellious regiments, and few chieftains who
ventured to endanger their safety by disputing the British ‘raj.’ In the
Nagpoor and Saugor territories, belonging rather to the Bengal than to
the Madras presidency, the elements of convulsion surged occasionally,
but not to a very alarming extent. The Nizam’s country was troubled in a
way which shews how desirable it is that orientals should not be tempted
by anarchy or weakness in the governing power. The regular troops were
moderately steady; but the news of mutiny elsewhere excited all the
turbulent elements of the Deccan. Robber chieftains and city ruffians
rose, not so much against the British, as against any who had property
to lose. The town of Mulgate, held by a chieftain who commanded a motley
band of Rohillas and Arabs, resisted the Nizam’s authority for some
time; but it fell, and the leaders were taken prisoner.
This chapter will have shewn that, when the last day of March arrived,
the attention of the military authorities in India was chiefly directed
to those districts which had Azimghur, Bareilly, Calpee, and Jhansi for
their chief cities, and which swarmed with large bodies of rebels ready
to make a desperate resistance. It was left for the months of April and
May to develop the strategic operations against those places.
Notes.
So frequent is the mention, in all matters relating to the local
government of India, of ‘covenanted’ and ‘uncovenanted’ service, and
so peculiar the duties of those covenanted servants who bear or bore
the title of ‘collectors’—that it may be well to sketch briefly the
Company’s remarkable system, so far as it refers to those two
subjects. The collectors and magistrates suffered much and braved
much during the mutiny, owing to their peculiarly intimate relations
with the natives; and their duties deserve on that account a little
attention in the present work. For many reasons it will be
desirable, as in the volume generally, to adopt the past tense in
speaking of this system—bearing in mind, however, that the system
was fully in operation during the mutiny, except when the officials
were actually driven away from their districts.
_’Covenanted’ and ‘Uncovenanted’ Service._—The ‘services’ supported
by the East India Company were of four kinds—civil, military, naval,
and ecclesiastical. The military has already been frequently
noticed; the Company supported a military force of something near
three hundred thousand men, involving various engagements on the one
hand with the British crown, and on the other with native princes.
The naval service was limited to a force of about sixty vessels and
five thousand men, employed chiefly in surveying, coast-guarding,
mail-conveyance, and the prevention of piracy. The ecclesiastical
service, maintained by the Company for their own servants only,
consisted of three Church of England bishops, about a hundred and
forty Protestant clergymen, three Roman Catholic bishops, and about
eighty Roman Catholic priests. The Protestants were liberally
supported; the Roman Catholics simply received a grant, in aid of
larger funds to be derived by them from other quarters. But it was
the civil service that constituted the most remarkable feature in
the Company’s organisation, embracing all the persons engaged in the
collection of revenue or the administration of justice.
The civil service was of two kinds, covenanted and uncovenanted. The
uncovenanted civil servants were very much like _employés_ in other
countries, paid reasonably for their services, but having no
peculiar privileges—no declared provision for life, no claim to
promotion by seniority, no stipulated furlough or leave of absence,
no claimable pension. They comprised Europeans, Eurasians or
half-castes, and natives. Subordinate duties, fiscal and judicial,
were intrusted to them, according to their range of ability and
supposed honesty, as judged by the local governments. The Europeans
in this class were chiefly persons who had gone out to India in some
other capacity, or were sons of officers already in service in
India. The European and Eurasian uncovenanted servants barely
reached three thousand in number. The class was mainly composed of
natives—Mohammedans more generally than Hindoos. The employment of
natives as uncovenanted servants of the Company was commenced by
Lord William Bentinck (1828 to 1835), and steadily increased under
other governors-general: insomuch that the judicial administration
of the lower courts fell almost wholly into the hands of natives.
The humbler offices in the revenue department were also filled by
them. A few of the uncovenanted servants received salaries ranging
from £500 to £800 per annum; but in the greater number of instances
the amount was far lower.
The covenanted servants comprised nominated or favoured persons who,
after receiving a special education in the Company’s seminary at
Haileybury, were subjected to examination in England, and then sent
out to India at the Company’s expense. They entered into a covenant,
prescribed by ancient custom, ‘That they shall obey all orders; that
they shall discharge all debts; and that they shall treat the
natives of India well.’ Until 1853 (when a system of public
competition was established by the charter granted to the Company in
that year), the appointment of persons to this favoured service was
wholly in the patronage of the directors. After a certain amount of
tuition and examination, the young men (’writers,’ as they were
sometimes called) were conveyed to India, where they pursued further
studies, chiefly in oriental languages, at Calcutta, Madras, or
Bombay. While so studying, they received an ‘out-of-employ
allowance.’ At length they commenced employment as ‘assistants’ to
magistrates and collectors in country districts, as soon as they
possessed a certain amount of knowledge of vernacular languages,
criminal law, and revenue law. Their daily duties were partly
magisterial, partly fiscal. After some years’ practice, the
assistant was competent for promotion. He became collector or
magistrate of a district, under regulations differing in the
different presidencies. In Bengal, the offices of judge, magistrate,
and collector were held by three different persons, all
‘covenanted;’ in the other presidencies the offices of magistrate
and collector were held by the same person; in the ‘non-regulation
provinces’ (Punjaub, Nagpoor, Sinde, &c.), all three offices were
held by one person. The local government had a voice in the
selection of persons to fill these offices; but the principle of
promotion by seniority was extensively acted on, and was almost
claimed as a right by the ‘covenanted.’ The salaries paid were very
munificent. The lowest assistant received £500 per annum, and the
amount rose gradually to £10,000 per annum, the salary of a member
of the Supreme Council at Calcutta.
Such were the chief points of difference between the covenanted and
uncovenanted services of the East India Company. It was not so much
a distinction of race, colour, or creed, as a means of favouring
selected persons in England, and of giving those persons a special
education to fit them for civil duties in India.
* * * * *
_Collectors and Collectorates._—We shall next notice in a succinct
way the remarkable duties of such of the covenanted civil servants
as filled the office of collector—especially in those districts
where the collector was also the magistrate. In the Northwest
Provinces, to which the mutiny was mainly confined, the
collector-magistrate of each district was in many matters controlled
by the commissioner of the province in which the district was
situated; but he had in a larger degree than the commissioner an
intimate knowledge of the villages and villagers of India, their
incomes, hopes, fears, wants, and peculiarities; and he became more
deeply involved in anxieties and dangers consequent on the mutiny.
The term ‘collector’ very inadequately expresses the status and
duties of the official so named. So far from being a mere
tax-gatherer, he was a revenue judge, an executive district
authority, with large powers and heavy responsibilities. As
collector and magistrate, he was responsible to two different
departments—to the higher judicial courts for his conduct as a
magistrate, and to the revenue department in all that concerned his
collectorship. He had two sets of assistants, with duties clearly
defined and separated. The magisterial duties being dismissed
without further description, as susceptible of easy comprehension,
we shall dwell only on the collectorship.
The duties of the collector were fivefold. He was collector of
government revenue; registrar of landed property in his district;
revenue judge between landlord and tenant; ministerial officer of
courts of justice; and treasurer and accountant of the district.
None but a man of varied and extensive attainments, united to zeal
and industry, could adequately fulfil so many duties; many of the
great names in the recent years of Indian history are those of men
who laid the foundations for their greatness as collectors. The
districts over which the collectors presided varied greatly in size
and wealth; but in all cases they comprised several thousand
villages each, and yielded revenue varying from one to two hundred
thousand pounds per annum—for the whole of which the collector was
responsible. In the whole of India, the collectorates were somewhat
under a hundred and seventy in number, for the most part identical
with districts, but in a few cases comprising whole provinces newly
annexed; and these collectorates yielded, in 1856, revenue to the
amount of about thirty millions sterling.
The collector-magistrate had generally two assistants, like himself
‘covenanted’ servants of the Company. Besides these there were
‘uncovenanted’ servants, European and native, sufficient in number
for the duties to be rendered. The district was marked out into
sub-districts containing from one to two hundred villages each. The
collector resided at the head-station of the district, with a staff
of clerks, writers, and record-keepers. Each sub-district was under
the revenue management of a responsible native officer, who had
subordinates under him to keep his accounts and conduct the details
of his office. Carrying down the classification still more minutely,
every village in every sub-district had its headman and its native
accountant, who were in intimate correspondence concerning the
revenue of the village.
The chief official of the district, as collector of government
revenue, obtained this revenue mainly from three sources—land-tax,
spirit and drug duty, and stamps. The second and third items were so
small in amount, that many well-wishers of the Company urged the
abandonment of those imposts; and at anyrate only a small share of
the collector’s attention was devoted to them. The land-tax was the
great source of revenue; and until the government of India undergoes
an entire revolution both in spirit and in practice, such must
continue to be the case. So decided was the importance of this tax
compared with all others, that of the thirty millions sterling
raised in 1856, no less than seventeen millions resulted from
land-tax. The land-tax formed the great fund out of which the vast
expenses for the executive government, military and civil, were
mainly paid. Hence the importance of the revenue-collector and his
land-tax duties. The assessment of the land, for the realisation of
the tax, differed in different presidencies, according to the
relations existing between the state, the landowners, the farmers,
and the labourers. In Bengal the revenue was collected in gross from
great and powerful zemindars, the state having little or nothing to
do with the actual cultivators. In Madras no zemindars or great men
were recognised; the state drew the tax from the ryots or
cultivators, each on his own bit of land. In Bombay the Madras
system existed in a modified form. In Oude nothing could be done
till the annexation in 1856, when the peculiar _thalookdaree_
system[156] laid a foundation for many troubles in the following
year. In the Northwest Provinces the assessment depended on the
peculiar village tenures, which had existed from time immemorial,
and according to which the ownership of the soil could not be
interfered with by the state so long as the village paid the
revenue. Great as may have been, and great as were, the differences
between the Hindoo, Mohammedan, and English governments, this
village system maintained its ground century after century. The
tenure of land in these provinces, recognised by the Company as
among those institutions which they wished to respect, were mainly
three in number:
_Zemindaree_—denoting those estates where the property was held
collectively without any territorial division, whether the
owners were one, few, or many.
_Puttidaree_—those estates where the property was partially or
entirely divided, and held separately by the coparceners.
_Bhyacharuh_—estates held by coparcenary communities, where
actual possession had overborne law; it was a kind of
Puttidaree founded on actuality rather than right.
Whichever of these systems prevailed, the Company respected it in
assessing the land-tax; and thus each piece of land was represented
in the tax-books by the name of a particular tax-payer or community
of tax-payers. The actual assessment, the percentage on produce,
depended on circumstances specially ascertained in each district;
but the two guiding principles laid down by the Company, when they
established a revenue-system for the Northwest Provinces were—that
the rate should be light enough to leave a wide margin of profit to
the cultivators; and that it should be fixed without alteration for
a considerable period of years. The collector, knowing how much was
assessed upon every village or every piece of land, was armed with
powers sufficient to enforce payment. Whether the assessment was
‘light’ or not, was a standing controversy between those who
respectively supported the zemindaree, the ryotwaree, and the
village systems. The Company’s advocates generally urged that,
though the ratio of tax to produce seemed heavy, any comparison with
English land-tax would be fallacious; seeing that the villagers and
cultivators in India were not called upon to pay, in addition to
land-tax, any such imposts as excise, tithes, church-rates,
county-rates, poor-rates, or income-tax. The excellences and defects
of the system, however, are not discussed here; we simply describe
the system itself.
The collector, having a definite amount to receive, from a definite
number of villages, represented by a definite number of persons,
could neither increase nor lessen, anticipate nor postpone, the tax,
without special reasons. If a district suffered from drought, the
government often deferred or wholly remitted the tax; but this only
under well-defined circumstances. The collector’s register recorded
all changes in ownership or occupancy by death or private transfer;
and as he knew each year who _ought_ to pay, he was intrusted with
certain powers to enforce payment by imprisonment, distraint of
personal property, annulment of lease, sequestration of profits,
transfer of defaulting share to a solvent shareholder of the same
community, farming of the estate to a stranger, or sale by public
auction.
In most districts, until the time of the Revolt, the collection of
revenue was an easy task, occupying only a portion of the
collector’s thoughts in May and June, November and December. ‘So
complete the machinery,’ said a writer in the _Calcutta Review_, ‘so
prosperous the provinces, so well adjusted the assessment, that the
golden shower fell uninterruptedly; and the collector, who had
without an effort of his own transmitted a royal ransom half-yearly
to the public treasury, was scarcely aware of the financial feat
which he and his subordinates had performed.’ But when a drought, an
inundation, or any great calamity interfered with the growth or
harvesting of the crop, the collector’s duties were most trying and
laborious; seeing that he had to listen to petitions for relief or
delay from hundreds or thousands of villages in his district.
His ordinary duties as a collector of revenue occupied only a
small portion of his time and thoughts. As registrar of landed
property, he kept maps and registers of land, drawn out with a
degree of minuteness scarcely paralleled in any other country in
the world; and these maps and registers were renewed or corrected
annually, to shew the size, position, ownership, and crop of every
cultivated field in the whole district. As revenue judge between
landlord and tenant, he was often called upon to assist the
responsible landowner to collect his rent from the cultivators, or
to assist the cultivator in resisting oppression by the landlord;
it was a duty requiring a knowledge both of law and of revenue
matters. As a ministerial officer of the courts of justice, he had
to put in force, somewhat in the manner of a sheriff, all
decisions of the judge relating to land, transfers of property, or
arrears of land-tax; and his local knowledge often enabled him to
assist the judge in arriving at an equitable decision. As
treasurer and accountant, he took care of the bags of silver coin
in which the land-tax and the other taxes were chiefly paid,
tested and weighed the coin before making up his accounts, paid
monthly stipends to some of the military and civil officers of the
district, kept a minute debtor and creditor account, and
transmitted his accounts and his surplus silver to Calcutta. In
addition to all these duties, the collector, considered as the
European who possessed most knowledge on various subjects in his
district, performed miscellaneous duties scarcely susceptible of
enumeration. ‘Everything that is to be done by the executive, must
be done by him, in one of his capacities; and we find him, within
his jurisdiction, publican [tax-gatherer], auctioneer, sheriff,
road-maker, timber-dealer, enlisting sergeant, sutler, slayer of
wild beasts, wool-seller, cattle-breeder, postmaster, vaccinator,
discounter of bills, and registrar-general—in which last capacity
he has also to tie the marriage-knot for those who object to the
Thirty-nine Articles. Latterly, he has been made schoolmaster of
his district also. Every new measure of government places an extra
straw on the collector’s back. Whatever happens to be the
prevailing hobby, the collector suffers. One day specimens are
called for, for the Exhibitions of London or Paris; the next day,
the cry is for iron and timber for the railway, or poles for the
telegraph.’
[Illustration:
GROUP OF INDIAN ARMS.
1. Matchlock. 2. Head of a Hunting-spear. 3. Potta. 4. Creece. 5.
Knife. 6. Hunting Tulwar. 7. Common Tulwar. 8. Kundeer. 9. Kundeer.
10. Ballagondeeka. 11. Powder-horn. 12. Pouch for balls. 13. Bow.
14. Arrow. 15. Borsee Spear—carried before chiefs, &c. 16. Bottom
end of a Spear. 17. Head of common Spear.
]
-----
Footnote 152:
‘The commander-in-chief prohibits columns from moving to the attack of
forts, whether large or small, without at least two heavy guns, or a
heavy gun and a heavy howitzer. If possible, such columns should
always have mortars also; namely, two 8-inch and two 5½-inch.
Arrangements are to be made by the inspector-general of ordnance to
insure the presence of a proportion of heavy guns, howitzers, mortars,
and cohorns, at all stations where British regiments are quartered.
Wherever there is a possibility of movable columns being organised,
the necessary elephant and bullock draught should be maintained. When
an expedition against a fort is deemed absolutely necessary, and heavy
ordnance cannot be obtained, a special reference is to be made to the
chief of the staff by telegraph. If, however, the station be removed
from the wire, the general officer commanding the division or station
must, of course, exercise a discretionary power; but the
commander-in-chief begs that it may be recollected, as a principle,
that, except in cases of the most absolute necessity, forts are not to
be attacked with light guns only.’
Footnote 153:
Chap. xiv., p. 234.
Footnote 154:
‘A circumstance well worthy of note has taken place during the last
week; it calls for remark, inasmuch as it exposes the peculiar
superstitions of the Hindoo shopkeepers of this country. In the
talooka of Nuseerabad, below the hills which form the western boundary
of Sinde, and not far south of the jaghire of Ghybee Khan, the Sirdar
of the Chandia tribe, there stands the ancient and still important
town of Hamal. It is situated on a mound close to the great Western
Trunk-road, which runs from the town of Dost Allee, in Kumbur, to that
of Gool Mahomed Luggaree; this part of the country is annually flooded
by the hill-torrents, and for this reason all the towns are built on
eminences, and surrounded by strong bunds. About twelve months ago, a
certain shopkeeper of the town went out to his field with his donkey
to work. On returning in the evening he loaded the ass, and was
proceeding homewards, when the animal fell down and died. The Hindoos
of that town consider that if, through any man’s carelessness, the
death of a beast of burden is caused, that man must make a pilgrimage
to the town of Narrainsir, a few miles south of Lucput, in the Runn of
Kutch, and there, shaving his head and performing other numerous
ceremonies, expiate his fault. Consequently, when this unfortunate man
returned home and reported the death of the donkey, he was at once
told that, unless he immediately made the requisite pilgrimage to
Narrainsir, and there expiated his fault, they would neither eat nor
drink with him, nor hold any intercourse whatever with him. As the
poor man thought the ass’s death was in no way brought about by any
fault of his, he appealed to the punchayets (Hindoo juries of five
persons each) of Larkhana, Guerrilla, and Kumbar, other large towns in
the Larkhana district. They returned answer that the punchayet of
Hamal was wrong in its decision, and that they acquitted the man of
all blame as to the cause of the ass’s death. A controversy was at
once raised throughout this part of the country, and it ended in all
the punchayets of the towns of the Katcha country siding with the
punchayet of Hamal, and the punchayets of the towns on the plain near
the river taking part with Larkhana. The dispute came to a climax
during the past week, when the Larkhana punchayet, in the name and
acting for the minor towns near the river, issued a notice that the
Hindoos of these towns would no longer associate with, nor have any
intercourse with those of Hamal, Ghybee Dherah, and other towns of the
Katcha country. This challenge was at once accepted, and the
punchayets of the Katcha country issued a counter-notice, forbidding
all Hindoos of their towns to hold intercourse with those of the
district towns above mentioned; marriages before agreed upon have been
broken off, agencies broken up, partnerships dissolved, and even the
ties of relationship are no longer binding. To such an extent do the
superstitious feelings of these men act upon their social conduct.’
Footnote 155:
Chap. xi., p. 179.
Footnote 156:
Chap. xxi., p. 360.
[Illustration:
Zemindar, Hindoo landowner.
]
CHAPTER XXVII.
DISCUSSIONS ON REBEL PUNISHMENTS.
Before entering on the military struggles that marked the month of
April, it may be desirable to notice the phases of public feeling
concerning the amount of punishment due to the mutineers and rebels in
India. The discussions on this subject undoubtedly influenced the course
of proceeding adopted both by the military and the civil authorities;
although it may not be possible to measure the exact amount of that
influence, or the exact date at which it was felt. Some of the
proceedings of Viscount Canning at Calcutta, in reference to this
matter, belonged to the month of March; some of the discussions in the
imperial parliament, and at the India House, bearing on Canning’s line
of policy, belonged to later months; but it will be useful to give a
rapid sketch, in this place, of the nature of the discussion generally,
and of the remarkable tone given to it by party politics in England. All
reference to the debates concerning the reorganisation of the Indian
government, whether at home or in India itself, may more fittingly be
postponed to a later chapter.
Almost from the first, a large portion of the Anglo-Indian population
cried aloud for most summary and sanguinary vengeance on rebels and
mutineers of all kinds, Mohammedan and Hindoo, towns-people and country
peasants. General Neill was idolised for a time by this class—not so
much because he was a gallant soldier and a skilful commander, as
because he was supposed to be terribly severe in his treatment of
insurgents. This matter has been adverted to in former pages, as well as
the torrents of abuse that were poured upon the governor-general for
‘clemency’—a word used in a mocking and bitter spirit. Many of the
censors afterwards joined the ranks of those who abused the same
governor-general for a policy supposed to be antagonistic to that of
‘clemency.’ The fact is again mentioned here, owing to its connection
with a controversy that gave rise to formidable parliamentary struggles
many months afterwards. The proceedings of four different bodies—the
Calcutta government, the Board of Control, the Houses of Parliament, and
the Court of Directors—must be briefly noticed to shew the course of
this controversy.
At first, when the mutiny was still in its earlier stages, the friends
and relations of those who had suffered barbarous treatment at the hands
of the natives gave utterance to a wild demand for vengeance, springing
not unnaturally from an excited state of feeling. The following, from
one of the Calcutta journals, is a fair example of this kind of writing
in its milder form: ‘Not the least amongst the thousand evils which will
follow in the track of the rebellion is the indurating effect it will
have upon the feelings of our countrywomen when the struggle is over.
There are many hundreds of English ladies who lie down nightly to dream
of horrors too great for utterance; who scarcely converse except upon
one dreadful subject; and who would be found almost as willing as their
husbands and fathers to go out and do battle with the mutineers, _if
they could only insure the infliction of deep and thorough vengeance_.
It is a contest with murderers who are not satisfied with their life’s
blood, that they have to expect daily. Their very servants are perhaps
in league to destroy them. They suffer almost hourly worse than the
pains of death. Many have already died by homicidal hands; but more from
the pangs of starvation and travel, from the agonies of terror, and the
slow process of exhaustion. _And all this while friends and relatives
sigh vainly for the coming of the day of retribution._’ The italicised
passages shew only a very moderate use of the words ‘vengeance’ and
‘retribution,’ but may suffice to indicate the feeling here adverted to.
The Calcutta government, as has been duly recorded in the proper
chapters, from time to time issued orders and proclamations relating to
the treatment which the mutineers were to receive, or which was to be
meted out to non-military natives who should shew signs of
insubordination. There was, as one instance, the line of policy
contested between Mr Colvin and Lord Canning. The former issued, or
intended to issue, a proclamation to the mutineers of the Northwest
Provinces, in which, among other things, he promised that ‘soldiers
engaged in the late disturbances, who are desirous of going to their own
homes, and who give up their arms at the nearest government civil or
military post, and retire quietly, shall be permitted to do so
unmolested;’ whereas Lord Canning insisted that this indulgence or
leniency should not be extended to any regiments which had murdered or
ill-used their officers, or committed cruel outrages on other persons.
Then there were several orders and statutes proclaiming martial law in
the disturbed districts; appointing commissioners to try mutineers by a
very summary process; authorising military officers to deal with rebel
towns-people as well as with revolted sepoys; enabling the police to
arrest suspected persons without the formality of a warrant; making
zemindars and landowners responsible for the surrendering of any
ill-doers on their estates; and other measures of a similar kind. When,
in the month of July, Viscount Canning found it needful to check the
over-zeal of some of the tribunals at Allahabad, who were prone to hang
accused persons without sufficient evidence of their guilt, he was
accused of interference with the righteous demand for blood. It is true,
that these were, in the first instance, merely newspaper accusations;
but as the English public looked to newspapers for the chief part of
their information concerning India, these controversies gave rise to a
very unhealthy excitement; and weeks, or even months, often passed
before the truth could be known—as was strikingly evidenced in the case
of the lieutenant-governor of the Central Provinces, whose supposed
‘clemency’ (in a matter of which, as soon appeared, he knew absolutely
nothing) was held over him as a reproach for nearly four months. In
September appeared a proclamation at Agra, warning the natives of the
possible consequences of any complicity on their parts in the
proceedings of the mutineers. Part of the proclamation ran as follows:
‘The government of these provinces calls on all landowners and farmers,
with their tenantry, and on all well-disposed subjects, to give all
possible assistance to the authorities in bringing those outcasts
(mutineers and rebels) to justice. Landowners and farmers of land,
especially, are reminded of the terms of their engagement not to harbour
or countenance criminals and evil-disposed persons. The government
requires proofs of the fidelity and loyalty of all classes of its
subjects, in recovering the arms, elephants, horses, camels, and other
government property, which have been feloniously taken by the offenders.
All persons are warned against purchasing or bartering for any such
property of the state under the severest penalties; and rewards will be
paid to those who, immediately on obtaining possession of the same,
bring them to the nearest civil or military station.’
So far as concerns the imperial parliament, little took place during the
year 1857 touching on the subject of the present chapter. The opposition
party sought to shew that her Majesty’s ministers were responsible for
the outbreak; some members of both Houses broached their views
concerning the causes of the mutiny; others criticised the mode in which
troops were sent to India; some condemned, others defended, Viscount
Canning; many put forth suggestions concerning the future government of
India; many more sought to overwhelm with guilt the East India Company;
while missionaries, civil servants, Indian judges, aristocratic
officers, favoured commanders, were made subjects of frequent and warm
debate—but the members of the legislature generally held aloof from that
excessive demand for a sanguinary policy towards the insurgents, so much
dwelt on by many of the Anglo-Indians. After passing an act, containing
among other provisions clauses relating to ‘The Punishment of Mutiny and
Desertion of Officers and Soldiers in the Service of the East India
Company,’ parliament was prorogued on the 28th of August. During the
recess, the press was busy on those accusations and reclamations already
adverted to—in turn correcting, and corrected by, the official documents
which from time to time appeared. Commercial troubles having agitated
the country during the autumn, parliament met again on the 3d of
December, for a short session before Christmas. Although the purpose of
meeting was prescribed and limited, the members of the legislature did
not deem it necessary or desirable to remain silent on a subject so
uppermost in men’s thoughts as the mutiny in India. Speeches were made,
motions brought forward, explanations given, and returns ordered, on the
state of the army, the mode of sending over troops, the conduct of the
government, and various other matters bearing on the struggle in the
East. The speech from the throne contained many allusions to that
struggle, but none that bore on the mode of punishing the rebels. The
Earl of Derby, in a speech on the opening-night, sought to discourage
the cry for vengeance raised in many quarters. After urging that England
should deal with the mutineers in justice and not in revenge, he added:
‘For every man taken with arms in his hands there ought to be a
righteous punishment, and that punishment death. For those miscreants
who have perpetrated unmentionable and unimaginable atrocities upon
women, death is too mild a sentence. On them should be inflicted the
heavier punishment—a life embittered by corporal punishment in the first
instance, and afterwards doomed to the most degrading slavery. Be they
Brahmins of the highest caste, they should be forced to undergo the
lowest, most degrading, most hopeless slavery. But, while he would take
this course, he earnestly deprecated the extension of a feeling of
hostility to the whole native population. From letters which he had
seen, he feared that every white man in India who had suffered in any
way by the mutiny came to regard every man with a black face as his
enemy. Now, that was a feeling which should be restrained, if not by
Christianity, at least by motives of sound policy. Measures should be
taken to convince the natives that the English are their masters; but
they must also be convinced that the English are their benefactors. We
should not try to govern India by the sword alone.’ This sentiment was
also well expressed by Mr Mangles, chairman of the East India Company,
at the Haileybury examination on the 7th of December. Addressing the
assembled professors, prizemen, students, and Company’s officers
present, he adverted to the sudden rupture of friendly relations in
India, and added: ‘For many years to come, there must exist strong
mistrust and suspicion, if not more bitter feelings, between those who
rule and those who are subject. It is impossible that it should be
otherwise, after the scenes which have been passed through, the
treacheries and murders—and worse than murders—that have been rife
throughout the land. But, gentlemen, you are bound to struggle with
those feelings and subdue them. It will be your duty to remember that
only a small part, an infinitesimal part, of the population of India
have been engaged in these frightful and scandalous outrages.’ [Here
many striking instances of fidelity were brought to notice.] ‘It would
therefore be most unjust to bring the charge of treachery against the
whole people of India. It will be your duty, under these circumstances,
to struggle against the suspicion and distrust which have been
engendered by recent events, and to endeavour to win the affections of
the people over whom you are called upon to exercise power. If we cannot
govern India in that way, we ought to give up the country and come
away.’
When parliament met for the usual session, in February, a question was
put by the Earl of Ellenborough, concerning the policy intended to be
pursued towards the rebels. Adverting to a rumour of some very wholesale
series of military executions in Central India, he said: ‘Without
questioning the justice of the sentence in that particular case, he
doubted if capital punishment was so efficacious as a severe flogging.
The natives were not afraid of death, but shrank from corporal pain.
Besides, it is quite impossible to hang all the mutineers, and the
continued exhibition of unrelenting severity must inevitably create a
blood-feud between the natives and their European masters.’ Earl
Granville, on the part of the government, replied that no particular
instructions had been sent out to Viscount Canning on this matter,
because the utmost reliance was placed on the justice and firmness of
that nobleman: he added, that he agreed in the opinion that the frequent
spectacle of capital punishment must have the worst possible effect; and
he concluded by stating that the governor-general was directing his
thoughts towards the possibility of transporting some of the evildoers
to the Andaman Islands.
Now occurred a change in political matters which threw Indian
discussions into a new channel. Hitherto, the subject of the punishment
of mutineers had been discussed in parliament with reference rather to
persons than to property. The ministry, however, having been changed on
grounds quite irrespective of Indian affairs, and the Earl of Derby
having succeeded Viscount Palmerston as premier, India was dragged into
the consequences of this change. The Earl of Ellenborough, admitted on
all hands to be a well-informed statesman on Indian matters, however
opinions might differ concerning his temper and prudence, was appointed
president of the Board of Control. When governor-general of India, many
years earlier, he had been in frequent collision with the East India
Company, as represented both by the Court of Directors and by the
Calcutta government; and it was thought probable that his new assumption
of authority in Indian affairs would be marked by something notable and
important. It was so. The singular termination of his ministerial career
was closely and immediately connected with the subject to which this
chapter relates, in a way that may now be briefly narrated.
At first this question of punishment had to be discussed by the new
government in the same manner as before—that is, in relation to the
sanguinary vengeance advocated by many writers of letters and newspaper
articles, especially at Calcutta. On the 18th of March, Mr Rich moved in
the House of Commons for the production of certain papers which he
expected would throw light on this matter, he contended that the conduct
of the army, in the punishment of the insurgents, was merciless and
cruel. He intimated the necessity of requiring the authorities in India
to act strictly up to the instructions of Lord Canning, who, he thought,
deserved honour for his firmness and humanity. The Calcutta journals, he
asserted, recommended that Oude should be made one wide slaughter-house,
in which extermination should be the rule rather than the exception; and
it was but right that the government should at once check this terrible
feeling of sanguinary animosity. Most of the speakers in the debate that
followed agreed in the view taken by Mr Rich; and more than one of them
broached the doctrine that the insurgents in Oude ought not to be
treated like rebel sepoys—seeing that, whether wisely or unwisely, they
were fighting for what they deemed national independence.
During the first half of the month of April, nothing occurred in
parliament involving any very great collision of opinions on this
particular subject; but towards the close of the month a clashing of
views on Oude affairs became manifest to the public. Throughout the
first ten months of the mutiny, while Viscount Palmerston was at the
head of affairs, the opposition party, in both Houses of Parliament,
frequently appeared as advocates for the deposed royal family of Oude,
dwelling on the injustice involved in the deposition. Much of this
advocacy may have been sincere, but much also was mere special pleading;
for the speakers well knew that, if in office, they would not and could
not seek to undo what had been done. No sooner did a change of ministry
take place, than the new occupants of office became much more cautious
in denouncing the ‘annexation of Oude;’ seeing that, if an iniquity at
all, it was one in which the Marquis of Dalhousie, the Calcutta
government, the Court of Directors, the Crown, and both Houses of
Parliament, were all implicated. Every one now saw that the practical
question before the country was—not the rights or wrongs of the
annexation—but the treatment of insurgents engaged in the warlike
struggle. It became known that the Secret Committee of the Court of
Directors had sent a letter to the governor-general in council, dated
the 24th of March, relating to the treatment which it was desirable that
rebels and mutineers should receive. So peculiar and anomalous were the
functions of this Secret Committee, that although nominally belonging to
the Court of Directors, it was little other than the mouthpiece of the
president of the Board of Control. The letter was really from the Earl
of Ellenborough, rather than from any one else.
Before pursuing this narrative, it may be well to say a few words
concerning the organisation and functions of this Secret Committee—one
of the many anomalies connected with our government of India. Mr Arthur
Mills (_India in 1858_) described the relation between the Secret
Committee, the Court of Directors, and the Board of Control, in the
following terms: ‘The Court of Directors meets weekly at the East India
House for the transaction of business, the ordinary details of which are
discharged by three committees—1. Finance and home; 2. Political and
military; 3. Revenue, judicial, and legislative. There is also a “Secret
Committee,” with peculiar functions altogether different from those of
the three ordinary committees. The office of the Secret Committee is
purely ministerial. It receives from India all dispatches on matters
with respect to which secrecy is deemed important—including those which
relate to war, peace, or negotiations with native powers or states
within the limits of the charter, or other states or princes; and
forwards such dispatches to the Board of Control. The Secret Committee
also transmits to India, after signature, dispatches prepared by that
Board, which it is bound to do, under oath, “without disclosing the
same.” The Secret Committee is composed, as prescribed by act of
parliament, of three directors. The court may elect whom they please;
but the chairman, deputy-chairman, and senior member of the court, are
almost invariably appointed. The papers of the Secret Committee are in
charge of the examiner at the East India House, who is clerk to the
committee.... There is also a secret department in the Board of Control,
for the purpose of carrying on written and oral communications with the
Secret Committee of the Court of Directors. The oral communications are
for the most part carried on through the president personally; in the
written communications he is assisted by a senior clerk, and
occasionally by the secretaries of the Board. On the arrival of secret
dispatches from India, the copy intended for the Board is sent to the
senior clerk in the secret department, who prepares a _précis_ of all
the letters and enclosures, which he lays before the president; who
thereupon gives him instructions, oral or written, for the preparation
of an answer, or sometimes drafts one himself. It is then copied in
official form, and transmitted to the Secret Committee of the East India
House.’
The secret dispatch, produced by the authority here described, began by
expressing a hope[157] that, as soon as Lucknow should fall before the
conquering arm of Sir Colin Campbell, the governor-general would feel
himself sufficiently strong to act towards the natives with the
generosity as well as the justice which is congenial to the British
character. The subsequent paragraphs laid down the propositions that it
would be better, except in aggravated instances, to award punishment
such as is usual against enemies captured in regular war, than against
rebels and mutineers—the exceptions being those in which the fighting by
the insurgents ‘exceeded the licence of legitimate hostilities;’ that
the insanity of ten months ought not to blot out the recollection of a
hundred years of fidelity; that the punishment of death had been far too
frequently awarded; and that the governor-general ought sternly to
resist the entreaties of those who would urge him to the adoption of a
sanguinary policy.
The 6th of May was the date on which the battle may be said to have
begun in parliament, on the policy to be pursued towards Oude. Mr
Bright, in the House of Commons, asked the ministers whether there was
any authenticity in a certain proclamation concerning Oude, said to have
been issued by Viscount Canning; whether, if authentic, it had been
issued in accordance with any directions from the home government; and,
if not so sanctioned, what steps the government intended to take in
relation to it? These questions came upon the House generally by
surprise, as indicating a revelation of things hitherto hidden; and it
was then for the first time made public, by the minister who replied to
these questions—that the government had, three weeks before, received a
dispatch containing a copy of the proclamation adverted to; that the
matter was immediately taken into consideration by the government; that
a _secret_ dispatch had been sent off, stating the views of the
government on the matter; and that there would be no objection to
produce both the proclamation and the dispatch. This announcement was
the forerunner of a storm, in which the passion of party was strongly
mixed up. On the 7th, in the House of Lords, the Earl of Ellenborough
moved for the production of certain papers, analogous to those ordered
by the other House on the preceding night; and then arose a debate
whether Viscount Canning had really issued the proclamation he intended;
whether it was a proper proclamation to issue; whether it was right that
the Earl of Ellenborough should reprimand Viscount Canning in so
imperious a way as he was accused of doing; whether the secret dispatch
containing that reprimand should have been kept so entirely concealed
from the Court of Directors; whether it should have been sent out to
Calcutta at the time it was; and whether a so-called _secret_ dispatch
ought to make its appearance among parliamentary papers, unrelieved by
any comments on it by Viscount Canning. There was unquestionably
something strange in the mode of proceeding; for the dispatch, although
not made known to the Court of Directors until the morning of the 7th,
had been communicated to certain members of both Houses on the 6th. Earl
Granville urged that, if the government wished to get rid of Viscount
Canning, the usual course might have been adopted for so doing; but that
it was neither just nor generous to keep him in office, and yet give
publicity to such insulting censure on him. The Earls of Derby and
Ellenborough replied that it was not intended to dismiss Viscount
Canning, or even to censure him; but to induce him to make such
modifications in his proposed proclamation as would render the policy
adopted in Oude less severe.
It now becomes necessary to attend to this much-canvassed proclamation
itself, before noticing the further debates concerning it.
The proclamation in question, and the explanations bearing on it, were
dated at a period when, from the absence of an electric telegraph
between England and India, they could not of course be known in the
former country. On the 3d of March, while at Allahabad, paying anxious
attention to the daily telegrams received from Oude, Viscount Canning
sent a proclamation and an explanatory letter to that province, relating
to the treatment to be meted out to rebels.[158] Although Sir Colin
Campbell commanded the army of Oude, and conducted the military
operations, Sir James Outram was chief-commissioner of the province; and
on his shoulders rested, at that time, all that could be effected in the
way of civil government. The proclamation was to be at once a sentence,
a warning, and a threat, addressed to the inhabitants of Oude. It
announced that Lucknow, after months of anarchy, was now again in
British hands; it dwelt on the fact that many of the citizens, even
those who had shared the bounty of the government, had joined the
insurgents; and it declared, that the day of retribution for evildoers
had arrived. It proceeded to name six rajahs, thalookdars, and
zemindars, who had remained faithful amid great temptation, and who were
not only to retain their estates, but were to receive additional
rewards. It promised a proportionate reward to all other chieftains who
could prove that they had been loyal. With these exceptions, the whole
proprietary right to the soil of Oude was declared to be forfeited to
the British crown—subject only to such indulgences as might, as a matter
of _favour_, be conceded to individuals, conditional on their immediate
submission to the supreme authority, their surrendering of arms, and
their steady assistance in the maintenance of order and discipline; and
conditional, also, on their innocence of shedding the blood of
Englishmen and Englishwomen in the cruel outrages which had taken place.
The stringent and startling clause in this proclamation was that which
related to the confiscation: declaring that, with the few specified
exceptions, ‘the proprietary right in the soil of the province is
confiscated to the British government, which will dispose of that right
in such manner as it may seem fitting.’ In the letter to Sir James
Outram accompanying this draft of a proclamation, Viscount Canning
stated that the proclamation was not to be issued until Lucknow had been
fully conquered by Sir Colin Campbell; and that, when so issued, it was
to be addressed only to the non-military inhabitants of Oude, without in
the slightest degree offering pardon or lenity to rebel sepoys. The
proclamation was spoken of as a very indulgent one; seeing that it
promised an exemption, almost general, from the penalties of death and
imprisonment, to Oudian chieftains and others who had gone against the
government; the confiscation of estates was treated as a merciful
diminution of punishment, rather than as a severe measure of justice.
Sir James Outram was to exercise his judgment as to the mode and the
time for issuing the proclamation, in the English, Hindee, and Persian
languages. He was supplied with suggestions, rather than strict
instructions, how to deal with those Oudians who had been inveterate
opponents of the government, but without being concerned in actual
murder; how to regard those who had fought in the insurgent ranks, but
shewed a willingness to surrender their arms; and how to draw a line
between the chieftains on the one hand and their less responsible
retainers on the other.
Such being the general character of the proposed proclamation and its
accompanying letter, we proceed with the debate.
After the discussions on Friday the 7th of May, the conduct of the
government underwent much discussion out of parliament; the supporters
of Viscount Canning contending that the publication of the secret
dispatch was unfair to that nobleman, even if the dispatch itself were
defensible. On the 10th, the Earl of Shaftesbury gave notice of a
resolution condemnatory of the publication; and Mr Cardwell gave notice
of a similar resolution in the House of Commons. In the course of an
irregular discussion, it appeared that the government had not received a
single official dispatch from Viscount Canning since that which
contained the draft of his proposed proclamation, and they were quite in
the dark whether the proclamation had been issued, altered or unaltered.
It also became known that the _late_ president of the Board of Control,
Mr Vernon Smith, had received a letter from Viscount Canning, stating
that the proclamation would require an explanatory dispatch, which he
had not had time to prepare.
On the next day, March 11th, parliament was surprised by an announcement
that the Earl of Ellenborough, without consulting his colleagues, had
resigned into the Queen’s hands his seals of office as president of the
Board of Control. Amid the courteous expressions of regret on the part
of the other ministers, at losing so important a coadjutor, it soon
became evident that the publication of the secret dispatch had emanated
from the Earl of Ellenborough, without the knowledge or consent of the
Earl of Derby and the cabinet. He found that he had drawn them into
trouble; and he resolved to take the whole blame on himself—resigning
office to shield others from censure. There was a generosity in this
which touched his colleagues. The Earl of Derby candidly admitted that
there were parts of the secret dispatch which he could not quite
approve, and that the publication of it was indefensible; but that he
deeply regretted the resignation of the Earl of Ellenborough.
This will be the proper place in which to notice the celebrated dispatch
fraught with such important consequences. On the 24th of March, after
Viscount Canning’s proclamation had been penned, but long before any
news concerning it could reach England, the Secret Committee wrote to
him on the subject of the treatment of the rebels generally. The letter
was virtually from the Earl of Ellenborough; although, on account of the
absurd system of double government, it professed to emanate from a
committee sitting in Leadenhall Street. The general character of this
letter was noticed in a recent paragraph, and the letter itself is given
in Note G; it may therefore be passed without further notice here. When,
on the 12th of April, a draft-copy of Viscount Canning’s proposed
proclamation reached England, the Earl of Ellenborough wrote the
much-discussed ‘secret dispatch,’ purporting, as before, to come from
the Secret Committee of the Court of Directors. A few days elapsed
before the writing, and a few more before the forwarding, of this
document. The earl[159] expressed his apprehension that the proposed
proclamation would raise such a ferment in Oude as to render
pacification almost impossible. He declared his belief that the mode of
settling the land-tenure when the British took possession of Oude had
been in many ways unjust, and had been the chief cause of the general
and national character of the disaffection in that province. He asserted
that the Oudians would view with dismay a proclamation which cut them
off, as a nation, from the ownership of land so long cherished by them;
and would deem it righteous to battle still more energetically than
before against a government which could adopt such a course of policy.
He went through a process of argument to shew that the Oudians regretted
the dethronement of their native king; that their regret ought to be at
least respected; that they had never, as a nation, acknowledged British
suzerainty; that they ought not to be treated as rebels in the same
sense as the inhabitants of those parts of India which had long been
under British control; and that the conflict in which they had engaged
should on this account be regarded rather as legitimate war than as
rebellion. The haughty and stinging portions of the dispatch were
contained in the fifteenth and two following clauses or paragraphs; in
which the earl, addressing the greatest British functionary in India,
said: ‘Other conquerors, when they have succeeded in overcoming
resistance, have excepted a few persons as still deserving of
punishment; but have, with a generous policy, extended their clemency to
the great body of the people. You have acted upon a different principle.
You have reserved a few as deserving of special favour, and you have
struck with what they will feel as the severest of punishment the mass
of the inhabitants of the country. We cannot but think that the
precedents from which you have departed will appear to have been
conceived in a spirit of wisdom superior to that which appears in the
precedent you have made.’
[Illustration:
East India House.
]
Such was the celebrated secret dispatch, the writing and promulgation of
which led to the resignation of the Earl of Ellenborough. That
resignation produced an exciting controversy in and out of parliament.
As the offender, the president of the Board of Control, had sacrificed
himself, was it necessary or desirable to make the ministry generally
responsible for his supposed or alleged misdeeds? Party considerations
speedily became mixed up with the discussion of this question. The Whigs
had recently been displaced by the Conservatives, under circumstances
that occasioned much irritation; and each party availed itself of the
India controversy as a handle to be employed against the other. On the
one side it was contended that Viscount Canning deserved praise rather
than censure, for his untiring attention to the affairs of India during
a troubled period; that, even if his proposed proclamation were
injudicious, it was not right to publish the secret dispatch relating
thereto, until he had explained the reasons for framing his
proclamation; and that the ministers ought not to be shielded from blame
simply on account of the resignation of their colleague. On the other
hand, the ministers endeavoured to shew that this resignation ought to
be taken into account; and when this failed, they took up the cause of
the Oudians, contending that the inhabitants of that province were in a
different category from the other natives of India.
When the great debates on this subject came on in both Houses, on the
14th of May, the ministers dwelt forcibly on the conduct of Mr Vernon
Smith, who had received a letter or letters from Viscount Canning, which
he ought, in the interests of the public, to have communicated to the
government, but which he shewed only to members of his own party. It was
urged—and the argument made a great impression both in and out of
parliament—that if the Earl of Ellenborough had known of Viscount
Canning’s intention to send home an explanation concerning the intent
and scope of the proclamation, it might possibly have led to a
modification of the secret dispatch, or even to an abandonment of it. In
the House of Lords, the case against the government was argued by Lords
Shaftesbury, Argyll, Somerset, Cranworth, Grey, Newcastle, and
Granville; while the arguments on the other side were maintained by
Lords Ellenborough, Derby, Carnarvon, Chelmsford, and Donoughmore. The
Earl of Shaftesbury had couched his resolution in such a form[160] as he
thought was calculated to insure Viscount Canning fair-play whenever his
intentions and proceedings should be really known. Without undertaking
to defend the proclamation, in the absence of any proof whether that
document had or had not undergone modification, he contended that the
dispatch passed on the governor-general a cruel and unmerited censure;
that this so-called ‘secret’ dispatch was evidently intended by its
writer to be a public one, administering rebuke that should be known to
all the world; that its publication was perilous, even seditious,
inasmuch as it encouraged the people of Oude to persevere in rebellion,
and virtually absolved them from all blame for their past conduct. The
Earl of Ellenborough, in reply, defended every word of the dispatch; he
insisted that it would be impossible to govern India peacefully even for
a day, if the proclamation were acted on in its full spirit. He cared
not for office; he resigned because he had unintentionally embarrassed
his colleagues, not because he regretted any part of his conduct. The
Earl of Derby, and other members of the cabinet, described the
resolutions as a party manœuvre to overthrow the government; claimed an
acquittal on the plea that their colleague had taken all the blame of
the publication to himself; and complained that the governor-general had
not sent one single letter to the new government, explanatory of his
plans and motives. When the debate was ended, the result shewed a very
close division—there being contents, 159, non-contents, 168; giving a
majority of 9 for ministers.
Far more exciting and influential was the debate in the Commons on the
same night. From the day when Mr Cardwell gave notice of his
resolutions, the case was regarded as a serious one for the ministers;
seeing that he was a distinguished member of an independent party in the
House, and would be able to bring a large accession to the regular
opposition votes. The very fact of the Earl of Ellenborough having
resigned, seemed to afford proof that the publication of the dispatch,
if not the writing of it, was disapproved by some of the ministers, and
would weaken them in the approaching debate. Mr Cardwell’s
resolutions,[161] like those of the Earl of Shaftesbury, did not bind
the House to any approval of the much-talked-of proclamation, whether
issued or unissued; they related only to the unfairness of the dispatch
in the absence of further news from India, and to the still greater
unfairness of making the reproof contained in that dispatch patent to
all the world. The members of the Whig opposition, and all who sided
with them in the debate, adhered pretty closely to this line of
argument; but the ministers and their supporters travelled much further.
They felt that the only justification for the dispatch and its
publication was to be found in the proclamation; and they therefore gave
the proclamation as black a character as it could well receive. Viscount
Canning was abused in round terms as a tyrant and spoliator; and those
who supported him were accused of being influenced purely by factious
motives in bringing forward the resolutions. The attack against the
government was maintained by Mr Cardwell, Lord John Russell, Mr Vernon
Smith, Mr Lowe, Colonel Sykes, and others, and resisted by the
solicitor-general, Lord Stanley, Mr Baillie, &c. The debate was
adjourned to the 17th, when it became evident that many of the
independent members intended to support the government—partly because
they disapproved of the Canning proclamation; partly because they
suspected the Whigs of an intention to make this Indian question a
stepping-stone to a return to office; and partly because they condemned
the conduct of the late president of the Board of Control, in
withholding Canning’s letter. This last-named circumstance told very
seriously against the Whig party; the Conservatives made the most of it,
and won over many adherents from among the independent members. Again
was the debate adjourned, to the 18th. It now became still more evident
that the division-list would present an aspect far different from that
at first expected; the prophesied majority for the resolutions gradually
fell, and the ministers began to look confidently to a decision in their
favour. A new element had entered into the case. If the Derby ministry
would have resigned office when beaten, there was a sufficient number of
independent members ready to carry the motion against them; but as there
was a threat of a dissolution, and as many seats would be endangered by
a general election, self-interest became mixed up with patriotism.
Another adjournment took place, to the 20th, on which day the House was
addressed by Sir James Graham, Mr Bright, Sir R. Bethell, Mr Labouchere,
and other members of influence. The current of debate set in very much
in favour of the government. It transpired that many eminent men in
India—including Sir James Outram, Sir John Lawrence, General Mansfield,
and General Franks—had all in various ways expressed an opinion that
Lord Canning’s proclamation, if issued in the form originally intended,
would be productive of some mischief in Oude.
This, therefore, will be a convenient place in which to notice the
officially recorded opinions of Outram on the subject—the only ones
which were presented before the House in a formal and undoubted manner.
The documents received from India shewed that Sir James entertained many
misgivings concerning the proclamation and its probable tendency. The
proclamation and its accompanying letter being sent to him from
Allahabad, he replied on the 8th, in a communication[162] pointing out
to Viscount Canning the paragraphs which appeared to him mischievous. He
declared his belief that there were not a dozen landowners throughout
the whole of Oude who had not in some way or other assisted the rebels
during the past struggle; and that, therefore, there would be hardly any
exceptions to the sweeping confiscation proposed by the
governor-general. He asserted most distinctly his conviction that, as
soon as the proclamation should be made public, nearly all the chiefs
and thalookdars would retire to their domains, and prepare for a
desperate resistance. He expressed an opinion that the landowners had
been very unjustly treated in the land-settlement after the annexation;
that, apart from this, their sympathy with the rebels was an exceedingly
natural feeling, under the peculiar circumstances of Oude; that it was
not until the mutiny was many weeks old that they turned against us;
that they ought to be regarded rather as honourable enemies than as
rebels; that they would be converted into relentless enemies if their
lands were confiscated, maintaining a guerrilla war which would ‘involve
the loss of thousands of Europeans by battle, disease, and exposure;’
but that if their lands were insured to them, they would probably be
more attached to British rule than ever they had yet been. It is evident
that Sir James Outram had already discussed this subject with the
governor-general, for he apologises for ‘once more’ urging his views
upon his lordship. A brief reply[163] was immediately sent to this
letter, proposing a very slight increase of leniency in the treatment of
the landowners, but leaving the general spirit of the proclamation
untouched. Later in the month, the governor-general replied more at
length to the arguments of Sir James. He admitted[164] that the
inhabitants of Oude were far differently placed from those of Bengal and
the Northwest Provinces, in respect to allegiance to the British crown;
both because the annexation had been recent, and because it had been no
voluntary act on the part of the Oudians. But he would not admit that,
on those grounds, the rebel thalookdars should be treated so indulgently
as Outram proposed. He urged that exemption from death, transportation,
and imprisonment, was a great boon, sufficiently marking the treatment
of the Oudians from that of other natives. Without entering on the
question whether the settlement of the land-claims had been unjust, he
offered his reasons for thinking that that matter had not had much to do
with the complicity of the thalookdars in the rebellion. He attributed
this complicity mainly to ‘the repugnance which they feel to suffer any
restraint of their hitherto arbitrary powers over those about them; to a
diminution of their importance by being brought under equal laws; and to
the obligation of disbanding their armed followers, and of living a
peaceful and orderly life.’ He maintained that if Sir James’s suggestion
were acted on, the rebels would be treated, not merely as honourable
enemies, but as enemies _who had won the day_; and that this would be
accepted by the natives as a confession of fear and weakness,
encouraging them to regard rebellion as likely to be a profitable game.
In short, Viscount Canning insisted on his proclamation being maintained
in its chief features.
It was impossible that such a letter as that of Sir James Outram could
fail, when made known, to exert a considerable influence in the House of
Commons. The resemblance between it and the Earl of Ellenborough’s
dispatch was very close, except in relation to discourteous and haughty
language, which Outram neither did nor could use. On the 21st of May,
after five nights’ debate, marked by speeches from almost all the
eminent men in the House, the contest ended in a kind of drawn battle.
Influenced by a great variety of motives, the opponents of the
government urged upon Mr Cardwell the withdrawal of his resolutions.
They did not wish to be compelled to vote. Some had been impressed by
the recorded opinion of Outram, and the rumoured opinions of Lawrence
and other eminent men in India; some disliked party tactics, even
against their opponents; some were afraid of a general election, if
their votes should lead to a dissolution of parliament. All the leaders
of the Whig party joined in a wish to withdraw the resolutions; and this
was done. The affair had, however, been so managed throughout as to give
a good deal of triumph to the Conservative government, and to strengthen
that government for the rest of the session.
What was the ultimate fate of the much-condemned proclamation, will
remain to be shewn in a later page. Two further documents relating to
this matter are given in Notes I and K.
Notes.
The official documents referred to in this chapter are of so much
importance, in reference to the political history of the Indian
Revolt, and to the opinions entertained by public men concerning the
feelings of the natives, that it may be well to present the chief of
them in full. Owing to the length of time necessary for the
transmission of letters between England and India, two or more of
these documents were crossing the ocean at the same time, in
opposite directions, and therefore could not exactly partake of the
nature of question and answer. We shall attempt no other
classification than that of placing in one group the documents
written in India; and in another those written in London—observing,
in each group, the order of dates.
A.
The first document here given is a letter dictated by Viscount
Canning when at Allahabad, and signed by his secretary, Mr
Edmonstone. It was addressed to Sir James Outram, in his capacity of
chief-commissioner of Oude, and was written at a time when the fall
of Lucknow was soon expected:
‘ALLAHABAD, _March 3, 1858_.
‘SIR—I am directed by the Right Honourable the Governor-general, to
enclose to you a copy of a proclamation which is to be issued by the
chief-commissioner at Lucknow, as soon as the British troops under
His Excellency the Commander-in-chief shall have possession or
command of the city.
‘2. This proclamation is addressed to the chiefs and inhabitants of
Oude only, and not to the sepoys.
‘3. The governor-general has not considered it desirable that this
proclamation should appear until the capital is either actually in
our hands or lying at our mercy. He believes that any proclamation
put forth in Oude in a liberal and forgiving spirit would be open to
misconstruction, and capable of perversion, if not preceded by a
manifestation of our power; and that this would be especially the
case at Lucknow—which, although it has recently been the scene of
unparalleled heroism and daring, and of one of the most brilliant
and successful feats of arms which British India has ever
witnessed—is still sedulously represented by the rebels as being
beyond our power to take or to hold.
‘4. If an exemption, almost general, from the penalties of death,
transportation, and imprisonment, such as is now about to be offered
to men who have been in rebellion, had been publicly proclaimed
before a heavy blow had been struck, it is at least as likely that
resistance would have been encouraged by the seeming exhibition of
weakness, as that it would have been disarmed by a generous
forbearance.
‘5. Translations of the proclamation into Hindee and Persian
accompany this dispatch.
‘6. It will be for the chief-commissioner in communication with His
Excellency the Commander-in-chief, to determine the moment at which
the proclamation shall be published, and the manner of disseminating
it through the province; as also the mode in which those who may
surrender themselves under it shall be immediately and for the
present dealt with.
‘7. This last question, considering that we shall not be in firm
possession of any large portion of the province when the
proclamation begins to take effect, and that the bulk of our troops,
native as well as European, will be needed for other purposes than
to keep guard through its districts—is one of some difficulty. It is
clear, too, that the same treatment will not be applicable to all
who may present themselves.
‘8. Amongst these there may be some who have been continuously in
arms against the government, and who have shewn inveterate
opposition to the last, but who are free from the suspicion of
having put to death or injured Europeans who fell in their way.
‘9. To these men their lives are guaranteed and their honour; that
is, in native acceptation—they will neither be transported across
sea, nor placed in prison.
‘10. Probably the most easy and effectual way of disposing of them,
in the first instance, will be to require that they shall reside in
Lucknow under surveillance and in charge of an officer appointed for
that purpose.
‘11. Their ultimate condition and place of residence may remain to
be determined hereafter, when the chief-commissioner shall be able
to report fully to the governor-general upon the individual
character and past conduct of each.
‘12. There will be others who, although they have taken up arms
against the government, have done so less heartily, and upon whom,
for other causes, the chief-commissioner may not see reason to put
restraint. These, after surrendering their arms, might be allowed to
go to their homes, with such security for their peaceable conduct as
the chief-commissioner may think proper to require.
‘13. One obvious security will be that of making it clearly
understood by them, that the amount of favour which they shall
hereafter receive, and the condition in which they shall be
re-established, will be in part dependent upon their conduct after
dismissal.
‘14. The permission to return to their homes must not be considered
as a reinstatement of them in the possession of their lands, for the
deliberate disposal of which the government will preserve itself
unfettered.
‘15. There will probably be a third class, less compromised by acts
of past hostility to the government, in whom the chief-commissioner
may see reason to repose enough of confidence to justify their
services being at once enlisted on the side of order, towards the
maintenance of which in their respective districts they might be
called upon to organise a temporary police.
‘16. The foregoing remarks apply to the thalookdars and chiefs of
the province. As regards their followers who may make submission
with them, these, from their numbers, must of necessity be dismissed
to their homes. But before this is done, their names and places of
residence should be registered, and they should receive a warning
that any disturbance of the peace or resistance of authority which
may occur in their neighbourhood, will be visited, not upon the
individual offenders alone, but by heavy fines upon the villages.
‘17. I am to observe that the governor-general wishes the
chief-commissioner to consider what has been above written as
suggestions rather than instructions, and as indicating generally
the spirit in which his lordship desires that the proclamation
should be followed up, without tying down the action of the
chief-commissioner in matters which may have to be judged under
circumstances which cannot be foreseen.
‘18. There remains one more point for notice.
‘19. The proclamation is addressed to the chiefs and inhabitants of
Oude, not to mutineers.
‘20. To the latter, the governor-general does not intend that any
overture should be made at present.
‘21. But it is possible that some may surrender themselves, or seek
terms, and it is necessary that the chief-commissioner should be
prepared to meet any advances from them.
‘22. The sole promise which can be given to any mutineer is, that
his life shall be spared; and this promise must not be made if the
man belongs to a regiment which has murdered its officers, or if
there be other _primâ facie_ reason to suppose that he has been
implicated in any specially atrocious crime. Beyond the guarantee of
life to those who, not coming within the above-stated exception,
shall surrender themselves, the governor-general cannot sanction the
giving of any specific pledge.
‘23. Voluntary submission will be counted in mitigation of
punishment, but nothing must be said to those who so submit
themselves which shall bar the government from awarding to each such
measure of secondary punishment as in its justice it may deem
fitting.—I have, &c.,
(Signed) ‘G. F. EDMONSTONE.
_’Allahabad, March 3, 1858.’_
B.
The proclamation referred to in the above letter ran as follows:
‘PROCLAMATION.
‘The army of His Excellency the Commander-in-chief is in possession
of Lucknow, and the city lies at the mercy of the British
government, whose authority it has for nine months rebelliously
defied and resisted.
‘This resistance, begun by a mutinous soldiery, has found support
from the inhabitants of the city and of the province of Oude at
large. Many who owed their prosperity to the British government, as
well as those who believed themselves aggrieved by it, have joined
in this bad cause, and have ranged themselves with the enemies of
the state.
‘They have been guilty of a great crime, and have subjected
themselves to a just retribution.
‘The capital of their country is now once more in the hands of the
British troops.
‘From this day it will be held by a force which nothing can
withstand, and the authority of the government will be carried into
every corner of the province.
‘The time, then, has come at which the Right Honourable the
Governor-general of India deems it right to make known the mode in
which the British government will deal with the thalookdars, chiefs,
and landholders of Oude, and their followers.
‘The first care of the governor-general will be to reward those who
have been steadfast in their allegiance at a time when the authority
of the government was partially overborne, and who have proved this
by the support and assistance which they have given to British
officers.
‘Therefore the Right Honourable the Governor-general hereby declares
that
‘Drigliejjie Singh, Rajah of Bulrampore;
‘Koolwunt Singh, Rajah of Pudnaha;
‘Rao Hurdeo Buksh Singh, of Kutiaree;
‘Kasheepershaud, Thalookdar of Sissaindee;
‘Zuhr Singh, Zemindar of Gopaul Kheir; and
‘Chundeeloll, Zemindar of Moraon (Baiswarah),
are henceforward the sole hereditary proprietors of the lands which
they held when Oude came under British rule, subject only to such
moderate assessment as may be imposed upon them, and that those
loyal men will be further rewarded in such manner and to such extent
as, upon consideration of their merits and their position, the
governor-general shall determine.
‘A proportionate measure of reward and honour, according to their
deserts, will be conferred upon others in whose favour like claims
may be established to the satisfaction of the government.
‘The governor-general further proclaims to the people of Oude that,
with the above-mentioned exceptions, the proprietary right in the
soil of the province is confiscated to the British government, which
will dispose of that right in such manner as it may seem fitting.
‘To those thalookdars, chiefs, and landholders, with their
followers, who shall make immediate submission to the
chief-commissioner of Oude, surrendering their arms and obeying his
orders, the Right Honourable the Governor-general promises that
their lives and honour shall be safe, provided that their hands are
unstained with English blood murderously shed.
‘But, as regards any further indulgence which may be extended to
them, and the condition in which they may hereafter be placed, they
must throw themselves upon the justice and mercy of the British
government.
‘To those among them who shall promptly come forward and give to the
chief-commissioner their support in the restoration of peace and
order, this indulgence will be large, and the governor-general will
be ready to view liberally the claims which they may thus acquire to
the restitution of their former rights.
‘As participation in the murder of Englishmen and Englishwomen will
exclude those who are guilty of it from all mercy, so will those who
have protected English lives be specially entitled to consideration
and leniency.
‘By order of the Right Honourable the Governor-general of India.
‘G. F. EDMONSTONE,
_Secretary to the Government of India_.’
C.
Sir James Outram, not fully satisfied with this proclamation,
directed his secretary, Mr Couper, to write as follows to Mr
Edmonstone:
‘CAMP, CHIMLUT, _March 8, 1858_.
‘SIR—I am directed to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, No.
191, dated 3d inst., enclosing a proclamation to be issued to the
landholders, chiefs, and inhabitants of Oude, upon the fall of the
capital.
‘2. In this proclamation a hereditary title in their estates is
promised to such landholders as have been steadfast in their
allegiance, and, with these exceptions, the proprietary right in the
soil of the province is confiscated.
‘3. The chief-commissioner desires me to observe that, in his
belief, there are not a dozen landowners in the province who have
not themselves borne arms against us, or sent a representative to
the durbar, or assisted the rebel government with men or money. The
effect of the proclamation, therefore, will be to confiscate the
entire proprietary right in the soil; and this being the case, it
is, of course, hopeless to attempt to enlist the landowners on the
side of order; on the contrary, it is the chief-commissioner’s firm
conviction that as soon as the chiefs and thalookdars become
acquainted with the determination of the government to confiscate
their rights, they will betake themselves at once to their domains,
and prepare for a desperate and prolonged resistance.
‘4. The chief-commissioner deems this matter of such vital
importance, that, at the risk of being deemed importunate, he
ventures to submit his views once more, in the hope that the Right
Hon. the Governor-general may yet be induced to reconsider the
subject.
‘5. He is of opinion that the landholders were most unjustly treated
under our settlement operations, and even had they not been so, that
it would have required a degree of fidelity on their part quite
foreign to the usual character of an Asiatic, to have remained
faithful to our government under the shocks to which it was exposed
in Oude. In fact, it was not until our rule was virtually at an end,
the whole country overrun, and the capital in the hands of the rebel
soldiery, that the thalookdars, smarting as they were under the loss
of their lands, sided against us. The chief-commissioner thinks,
therefore, that they ought hardly to be considered as rebels, but
rather as honourable enemies, to whom terms, such as they could
without loss of dignity accept, should be offered at the termination
of the campaign.
‘If these men be given back their lands, they will at once aid us in
restoring order; and a police will soon be organised with their
co-operation, which will render unnecessary the presence of our
enormous army to re-establish tranquillity and confidence.
‘But, if their life and freedom from imprisonment only be offered,
they will resist; and the chief-commissioner foresees that we are
only at the commencement of a guerrilla war for the extirpation,
root and branch, of this class of men, which will involve the loss
of thousands of Europeans by battle, disease, and exposure. It must
be borne in mind that this species of warfare has always been
peculiarly harassing to our Indian forces, and will be far more so
at present, when we are without a native army.
‘6. For the above reasons, the chief-commissioner earnestly requests
that such landholders and chiefs as have not been accomplices in the
cold-blooded murder of Europeans may be enlisted on our side by the
restoration of their ancient possessions, subject to such
restrictions as will protect their dependents from oppression. If
his lordship agree to this proposition, it will not yet be too late
to communicate his assent by electric telegraph before the fall of
the city, which will probably not take place for some days. Should
no such communication be received, the chief-commissioner will act
upon his present instructions, satisfied that he has done all in his
power to convince his lordship that they will be ineffectual to
re-establish our rule on a firm basis in Oude.—I have, &c.,
(Signed) ‘G. COUPER,
‘_Secretary to Chief-commissioner_.
‘_Chief-commissioner’s Office, Camp, Chimlut, March 8._’
D.
Mr Edmonstone, on the part of Viscount Canning, wrote the following
brief reply, suggesting an additional clause to the proclamation,
and promising a more detailed communication at a future time:
‘ALLAHABAD, _March 10, 1853_.
‘SIR—Your secretary’s letter of the 8th instant was delivered to me
at an early hour this morning, by Captain F. Birch, and it will
receive a detailed reply in due course.
‘Meanwhile, I am desired by the Right Honourable the
Governor-general to subjoin a clause which may be inserted in the
proclamation (forwarded with my letter, No. 191, of the 3d instant),
after the paragraph which ends with the words, “justice and mercy of
the British government.”
‘“To those amongst them who shall promptly come forward, and give to
the chief-commissioner their support in the restoration of peace and
order, this indulgence will be large, and the governor-general will
be ready to view liberally the claims which they may thus acquire to
a restitution of their former rights.”
‘2. This clause will add little or nothing to your discretionary
power, but it may serve to indicate more clearly to the thalookdars
the liberal spirit in which the governor-general is prepared to
review and reciprocate any advances on their part.
‘3. It is expected that you will find means to translate this
additional clause into the vernacular languages, and that you will
be able to have copies of the proclamation, so amended, prepared in
sufficient numbers for immediate use. If more should be required,
the magistrate of Cawnpore will lithograph them on your requisition.
‘4. It is very important, as you will readily see, that every copy
of the vernacular version of the proclamation sent to you, with my
letter of the 3d instant, should be carefully destroyed.—I have,
&c.,
(Signed) ‘G. F. EDMONSTONE,
‘_Secretary, Government of India, with the
Governor-general_.
‘_Allahabad, March 10, 1858._’
E.
It was not until after a lapse of three weeks that the promised
detailed reply was sent to Sir James Outram, in the following terms:
‘ALLAHABAD, _March 31, 1858_.
‘SIR—In replying at once on the 10th inst. to your secretary’s
letter of the 8th, in which you urged reasons against the issue of
the proclamation to the thalookdars and landholders of Oude, which
had been transmitted to you by the Right Hon. the Governor-general,
my answer was confined to communicating to you the addition which
his lordship was willing to make to that proclamation, without
entering into the general questions raised in your letter. The
governor-general desires me to express his hope that you will not
have supposed that the arguments adduced by you were not fully
weighed by him, or that your opinion upon a subject on which you are
so well entitled to offer one, has not been received with sincere
respect, although he was unable to concur in it.
‘2. I am now directed by his lordship to explain the grounds upon
which the course advocated in your letter—namely, that such
landholders and chiefs as have not been accomplices in the
cold-blooded murder of Europeans should be enlisted on our side by
the restoration of their ancient possessions, subject to such
restrictions as will protect their dependents from oppression—is, in
the opinion of the governor-general, inadmissible.
‘3. The governor-general entirely agrees with you in viewing the
thalookdars and landholders of Oude in a very different light from
that in which rebels in our old provinces are to be regarded. The
people of Oude had been subjects of the British government for
little more than one year when the mutinies broke out; they had
become so by no act of their own. By the introduction of our rule
many of the chiefs had suffered a loss of property, and all had
experienced a diminution of the importance and arbitrary power which
they had hitherto enjoyed; and it is no marvel that those amongst
them who had thus been losers should, when they saw our authority
dissolved, have hastened to shake off their new allegiance.
‘4. The governor-general views these circumstances as a palliation
of acts of rebellion, even where hostility has been most active and
systematic. Accordingly, punishment by death or imprisonment is at
once put aside by the proclamation in the case of all who shall
submit themselves to the government, and who are not murderers; and
whilst confiscation of proprietary rights in the land is declared to
be the general penalty, the means of obtaining more or less of
exemption from it, and of establishing a claim to restitution of
rights, have been pointed out, and are within the reach of all
without injury to their honour. Nothing more is required for this
than that they should promptly tender their adhesion, and help to
maintain peace and order.
‘5. The governor-general considers that the course thus taken is one
consistent with the dignity of the government, and abundantly
lenient. To have followed that which is suggested in your
secretary’s letter would, in his lordship’s opinion, have been to
treat the rebels not only as honourable enemies, but as enemies who
had won the day.
‘In the course of the rebellion, most of the leaders in it, probably
all, have retaken to themselves the lands and villages of which they
were deprived, by the summary settlement which followed the
establishment of our government in Oude. If upon the capture of
Lucknow by the commander-in-chief, before our strength had been seen
or felt in the distant districts, and before any submission had been
received or invited from them, the rights of the rebel chiefs to all
their ancient possessions had been recognised by the government, it
is not possible that the act would not have been viewed as dictated
by fear or weakness. It would have led the people of Oude, and all
who are watching the course of events in that province, to the
conclusion that rebellion against the British government cannot be a
losing game; and although it might have purchased an immediate
return to order, it would not assuredly have placed the future peace
of the province upon a secure foundation.
‘6. You observe, indeed, that the landholders were most unjustly
treated under our settlement. The governor-general desires me to
observe that if this were unreservedly the case, or if the
proceedings of the commissioners by which many of the thalookdars
were deprived of portions of their possessions had been generally
unjust, he would gladly have concurred in your recommendation, and
would have been ready, at the risk of any misinterpretation of the
motives of the government, to reinstate the thalookdars at once in
their old possessions. But it is not so. As a question of policy,
indeed, the governor-general considers that it may well be doubted
whether the attempt to introduce into Oude a system of village
settlement in place of the old settlement under thalookdars was a
wise one; but this is a point which need not be discussed here. As a
question of justice, it is certain that the land and villages taken
from the thalookdars had, for the most part, been usurped by them
through fraud or violence.
‘7. That unjust decisions were come to by some of our local officers
in investigating and judging the titles of the landowners is, the
governor-general fears, too true; but the proper way of rectifying
such injustice is by a re-hearing where complaint is made. This, you
are aware, is the course which the governor-general is prepared to
adopt, and to carry out in a liberal and conciliatory spirit. It is
a very different one from proclaiming that indiscriminate
restitution of all their ancient possessions is at once to be
yielded to the landowners.
‘8. That the hostility of the thalookdars of Oude who have been most
active against the British government has been provoked, or is
excused, by the injustice with which they have been treated, would
seem to be your opinion.
‘But I am to observe, that there are some facts which deserve to be
weighed before pronouncing that this is the case.
‘9. No chiefs have been more open in their rebellion than the rajahs
of Churda, Bhinga, and Gonda. The governor-general believes that the
first of these did not lose a single village by the summary
settlement, and certainly his assessment was materially reduced. The
second was dealt with in a like liberal manner. The Rajah of Gonda
lost about 30 villages out of 400; but his assessment was lowered by
some 10,000 rupees.
‘10. No one was more benefited by the change of government than the
young Rajah of Naupara. His estates had been the object of a civil
war with a rival claimant for three years, and of these he was at
once recognised as sole proprietor by the British government, losing
only six villages out of more than a thousand. His mother was
appointed guardian, but her troops have been fighting against us at
Lucknow from the beginning.
‘11. The Rajah of Dhowrera, also a minor, was treated with equal
liberality. Every village was settled with his family; yet these
people turned upon Captain Hearsey and his party, refused them
shelter, pursued them, captured the ladies, and sent them into
Lucknow.
‘12. Ushruf Bux Khan, a large thalookdar in Gonda, who had long been
an object of persecution by the late government, was established in
the possession of all his property by us; yet he has been strongly
hostile.
‘13. It is clear that injustice at the hands of the British
government has not been the cause of the hostility which, in these
instances at least, has been displayed towards our rule.
‘14. The moving spirit of these men and of others amongst the chiefs
of Oude must be looked for elsewhere; and, in the opinion of the
governor-general, it is to be found mainly in the repugnance which
they feel to suffer any restraint of their hitherto arbitrary powers
over those about them, to a diminution of their importance by being
brought under equal laws, and to the obligation of disbanding their
armed followers, and of living a peaceful and orderly life.
‘The penalty of confiscation of property is no more than a just one
in such cases as have been above recited; and although
considerations of policy and mercy, and the newness of our rule,
prescribe a relaxation of the sentence more or less large according
to the features of each case, this relaxation must be preceded by
submission, and the governor-general cannot consent to offer all,
without distinction, an entire exemption from penalty, and the
restoration of all former possessions, even though they should not
have been guilty of the murder of Europeans.—I have, &c.,
(Signed) ‘G. F. EDMONSTONE,
‘_Secretary to the Government of India,
with the Governor-general_.
‘_Allahabad, March 31, 1858._’
F.
The following document, though not pertaining to the affairs of
Oude, may usefully be given here, bearing as it does on the
treatment proposed to be adopted towards mutineers and rebels. It
was written, in the name of Viscount Canning, by the secretary to
the government of the Northwest Provinces, and was addressed to the
functionaries of the disturbed province of Rohilcund:
‘AGRA, _April 28, 1858_.
‘SIR—I am directed to communicate to you the general principles
which the Right Honourable the Governor-general desires to see
followed by all civil and other officers who will exercise judicial
or magisterial powers in Rohilcund, on the re-entry of British
troops into that province.
‘2. The condition of Rohilcund has been, in some respects, peculiar.
The progress of the Revolt in the interior has until lately suffered
little check. The people, left to themselves, have in many quarters
engaged actively in hostilities against each other; but direct
opposition to British authority has been mainly confined to the
several Sudder towns, to the frontier on the Ganges, and to the
expeditions against Nynee Tal.
‘3. Under these circumstances, his lordship considers it just to
distinguish, by a widely differing treatment, the simple bearing of
arms, or even acts of social violence committed at a period when the
check of lawful government was removed, from acts directly involving
treason against the state, or a deliberate defiance of its
authority. Excepting instances of much aggravation, it is not the
wish of government that public prosecutions should be set on foot on
account of offences of the former class.
‘4. Further, in respect of treason and defiance of British
authority, his lordship desires that criminal proceedings shall be
taken only against leaders, and against such persons, whether high
or low, as have distinguished themselves by activity and rancour
against the government, or by persistence in opposition to its
authority after the advance of troops and the re-occupation of
stations. The governor-general will admit to amnesty all other
classes, even though they have borne arms on the side of the rebels,
provided that they tender an early and complete submission. But
continuance in opposition will exclude from pardon.
‘5. The governor-general has reason to believe that an impression
exists in Rohilcund that the Mohammedan population, as such, is to
be proscribed and crushed. It is likely that the rumour has been
raised and fostered by the rebel leaders to excite apprehension and
mistrust of the government. His lordship desires that every
appropriate occasion may be taken to disabuse the people of this
gross error. Such suspected rebels as may be brought to trial will
be tried each by his own acts. Each will stand or fall by the line
of conduct which he shall be proved to have followed. The government
will maintain, as it has always maintained, a strict impartiality in
its administration. Equal justice will be shared by all its
subjects, whether Hindoos or Mohammedans. You will make public these
views, and instruct the chief district officers to make them widely
known, in such manner as may appear to be most effectual.
‘6. It will be your care, in accordance with the injunctions of
his lordship’s orders, embodied in the circular order dated the
19th February, to bring forward, for early notice by the
governor-general, the several examples of conspicuously faithful
conduct exhibited by many of the inhabitants of Rohilcund, under
circumstances of peculiar difficulty.—I have, &c.,
‘W. MUIR,
‘_Sec. to Govt. NW. P._’
G.
We now transfer attention to four of the documents written in
London. The first was nominally from the ‘Secret Committee,’ really
from the Earl of Ellenborough, and was suggested by the state of
affairs in India during the second half of the month of February:
‘_The Secret Committee of the Court of Directors of the East India
Company, to the Governor-general of India in Council, March 24,
1858._
‘The telegram from Calcutta, dated the 22d ult., which arrived this
morning, conveys intelligence of the concentration of the force
under the commander-in-chief, and of that under Jung Bahadoor, upon
Lucknow; and we trust we may indulge the expectation that, ere this,
that city has been evacuated by the rebels, and that no considerable
corps remains united against us in the field.
‘2. If this happy result should have been attained, it will be very
satisfactory to us to learn that you have deemed yourselves
sufficiently strong to be enabled to act towards the people with the
generosity, as well as the justice, which are congenial to the
British character.
‘3. Crimes have been committed against us which it would be a crime
to forgive; and some large exceptions there must be, of the persons
guilty of such crimes, from any act of amnesty which could be
granted; but it must be as impossible, as it would be abhorrent from
our feelings, to inflict the extreme penalty which the law might
strictly award upon all who have swerved from their allegiance.
‘4. To us it appears that, whenever open resistance shall have
ceased, it would be prudent, in awarding punishment, rather to
follow the practice which prevails after the conquest of a country
which has defended itself to the last by desperate war, than that
which may perhaps be lawfully adopted after the suppression of
mutiny and rebellion, such acts always being excepted from
forgiveness or mitigation of punishment as have exceeded the licence
of legitimate hostilities.
‘5. While we may be unable to forget the insanity which, during the
last ten months, has pervaded the army and a large portion of the
people, we should at the same time remember the previous fidelity of
a hundred years, and so conduct ourselves towards those who have
erred as to remove their delusions and their fears, and
re-establish, if we can, that confidence which was so long the
foundation of our power.
‘6. It would be desirable that, in every case, the disarming of a
district, either by the seizure of arms or by their surrender,
should precede the application to it of any amnesty; but there may
be circumstances which would render expedient a different course of
proceeding. Upon these exceptional cases, you and the officers
acting under your orders must decide.
‘7. The disarming of a district having been effected, with
exceptions, under your licence, in favour of native gentlemen, whose
feelings of honour would be affected by being deprived of the
privilege of wearing arms, and of any other persons in whom you may
confide, we think the possession of arms should be punished in every
case by a severe penalty; but unless the possession of arms should
be combined with other acts, leading to the conclusion that they
were retained for the perpetration of crimes, that penalty should
not be death. Of course the possession of arms by Englishmen must
always remain lawful.
‘8. Death has of late been but too common a punishment. It loses
whatever terror it might otherwise have when so indiscriminately
applied; but, in fact, in India there is not commonly a fear of
death, although there ever must be a fear of pain.
‘9. In every amnestied district, the ordinary administration of the
law should as soon as possible be restored.
‘10. In carrying these views into execution, you may meet with
obstruction from those who, maddened by the scenes they have
witnessed, may desire to substitute their own policy for that of the
government; but persevere firmly in doing what you may think right;
make those who would counteract you feel that you are resolved to
rule, and that you will be served by none who will not obey.
‘11. Acting in this spirit, you may rely upon our unqualified
support.’
H.
Three or four weeks afterwards, was written the ‘secret dispatch’
which gave rise to so vehement a debate in parliament:
‘_April 19, 1858._
‘Our letter of the 24th of March 1858 will have put you in
possession of our general views with respect to the treatment of the
people in the event of the evacuation of Lucknow by the enemy.
‘2. On the 12th inst., we received from you a copy of the letter,
dated the 3d of March, addressed by your secretary to the secretary
to the chief-commissioner in Oude, which letter enclosed a copy of
the proclamation to be issued by the chief-commissioner as soon as
the British troops should have command of the city of Lucknow, and
conveyed instructions as to the manner in which he was to act with
respect to different classes of persons, in execution of the views
of the governor-general.
‘3. The people of Oude will see only the proclamation.
‘4. That authoritative expression of the will of the government
informs the people that six persons, who are named as having been
steadfast in their allegiance, are henceforward the sole hereditary
proprietors of the lands they held when Oude came under British
rule, subject only to such moderate assessment as may be imposed
upon them; that others in whose favour like claims may be
established will have conferred upon them a proportionate measure of
reward and honour; and that, with these exceptions, the proprietary
right in the soil of the province is confiscated to the British
government.
‘5. We cannot but express to you our apprehension that this decree,
pronouncing the disinherison of a people, will throw difficulties
almost insurmountable in the way of the re-establishment of peace.
‘6. We are under the impression that the war in Oude has derived
much of its popular character from the rigorous manner in which,
without regard to what the chief landholders had become accustomed
to consider as their rights, the summary settlement had, in a large
portion of the province, been carried out by your officers.
‘7. The landholders of India are as much attached to the soil
occupied by their ancestors, and are as sensitive with respect to
the rights in the soil they deem themselves to possess, as the
occupiers of land in any country of which we have a knowledge.
‘8. Whatever may be your ultimate and undisclosed intentions, your
proclamation will appear to deprive the great body of the people of
all hope upon the subject most dear to them as individuals, while
the substitution of our rule for that of their native sovereign has
naturally excited against us whatever they may have of national
feeling.
‘9. We cannot but in justice consider that those who resist our
authority in Oude are under very different circumstances from those
who have acted against us in provinces which have been long under
our government.
‘10. We dethroned the King of Oude, and took possession of his
kingdom, by virtue of a treaty which had been subsequently modified
by another treaty, under which, had it been held to be in force, the
course we adopted could not have been lawfully pursued; but we held
that it was not in force, although the fact of its not having been
ratified in England, as regarded the provision on which we rely for
our justification, had not been previously made known to the King of
Oude.
‘11. That sovereign and his ancestors had been uniformly faithful to
their treaty engagements with us, however ill they may have governed
their subjects.
‘12. They had more than once assisted us in our difficulties, and
not a suspicion had ever been entertained of any hostile disposition
on their part towards our government.
‘13. Suddenly the people saw their king taken from amongst them, and
our administration substituted for his, which, however bad, was at
least native; and this sudden change of government was immediately
followed by a summary settlement of the revenue, which, in a very
considerable portion of the province, deprived the most influential
landholders of what they deemed to be their property—of what
certainly had long given wealth, and distinction, and power to their
families.
‘14. We must admit that, under these circumstances, the hostilities
which have been carried on in Oude have rather the character of
legitimate war than that of rebellion, and that the people of Oude
should rather be regarded with indulgent consideration, than made
the objects of a penalty exceeding in extent and in severity almost
any which has been recorded in history as inflicted upon a subdued
nation.
‘15. Other conquerors, when they have succeeded in overcoming
resistance, have excepted a few persons as still deserving of
punishment, but have, with a generous policy, extended their
clemency to the great body of the people.
‘16. You have acted upon a different principle. You have reserved a
few as deserving of special favour, and you have struck with what
they will feel as the severest of punishment the mass of the
inhabitants of the country.
‘17. We cannot but think that the precedents from whom you have
departed will appear to have been conceived in a spirit of wisdom
superior to that which appears in the precedent you have made.
‘18. We desire that you will mitigate in practice the stringent
severity of the decree of confiscation you have issued against the
landholders of Oude.
‘19. We desire to see British authority in India rest upon the
willing obedience of a contented people; there cannot be contentment
where there is general confiscation.
‘20. Government cannot long be maintained by any force in a country
where the whole people is rendered hostile by a sense of wrong; and
if it were possible so to maintain it, it would not be a
consummation to be desired.’
I.
The Court of Directors, before the secret dispatch became known to
them, adopted courteous language in the following letter of
instructions sent to Viscount Canning, referring to an earlier
communication:
‘_May 5, 1858._
‘1. You will have received, by the mail of the 25th of March, a
letter from the secret committee, which has since been laid before
us, respecting the policy which it becomes you to pursue towards
those natives of India who have recently been in arms against the
authority of the British government.
‘2. That letter emphatically confirms the principles which you have
already adopted, as set forth in your circular of the 31st of July
1857, by impressing upon you the propriety of pursuing, after the
conquest of the revolted provinces, a course of policy distinguished
by a wise and discriminating generosity. You are exhorted to temper
justice with mercy, and, except in cases of extreme criminality, to
grant an amnesty to the vanquished. In the sentiments expressed by
the secret committee we entirely concur. While there are some crimes
which humanity calls upon you to punish with the utmost severity,
there are others of a less aggravated character, which it would be
equally unjust and impolitic not to pardon and to forget.
‘3. The offences with which you will be called upon to deal are of
three different kinds. Firstly, high crimes, instigated by malice
prepense, and aggravated by treachery and cruelty. Secondly,
offences the results rather of weakness than of malice, into which
it is believed that many have been drawn by the contamination of
example, by the fear of opposing themselves to their more powerful
countrymen, or by the belief that they have been compromised by the
acts of their associates, rather than by any active desire to
embarrass the existing government. And, thirdly, offences of a less
positive character, amounting to little more than passive connivance
at evil, or at most to the act of giving such assistance to the
rebels as, if not given, would have been forcibly extorted, and
which in many cases it would have been death to refuse to bodies of
licentious and exasperated mutineers.
‘4. It is the first only of these offences, the perpetrators of
which, and their accomplices, it will be your duty to visit with the
severest penalty which you can inflict; and it is, happily, in such
cases of exceptional atrocity, that you will have the least
difficulty in proving both the commission of the offence and the
identity of the offender. In the other cases you might often be left
in doubt, not only of the extent of the offence committed, but of
its actual commission by the accused persons; and although we are
aware that the retribution which might be righteously inflicted upon
the guilty may be in some measure restricted by too much nicety of
specification, and that, in dealing with so large a mass of crime,
it is difficult to avoid the commission of some acts of individual
injustice, we may still express our desire that the utmost exertion
may be made to confine, within the smallest possible compass, these
cases of uncertain proof and dubious identity, even though your
retributary measures should thus fall short of what in strict
justice might be inflicted.
‘5. As soon as you have suppressed the active hostility of the
enemy, your first care will be the restoration of public confidence.
It will be your privilege when the disorganised provinces shall no
longer be convulsed by intestine disorder, to set an example of
toleration and forbearance towards the subject people, and to
endeavour by every means consistent with the security of the British
empire in the east, to allay the irritation and suspicion, which, if
suffered to retain possession of the minds of the native and
European inhabitants of the country, will eventually lead to nothing
less calamitous than a war of races.
‘6. In dealing with the people of Oude, you will doubtless be moved
by special considerations of justice and of policy. Throughout the
recent contest, we have ever regarded such of the inhabitants of
that country as—not being sepoys or pensioners of our own army—have
been in arms against us as an exceptional class. They cannot be
considered as traitors or even rebels, for they had not pledged
their fidelity to us, and they had scarcely become our subjects.
Many, by the introduction of a new system of government, had
necessarily been deprived of the maintenance they had latterly
enjoyed; and others feared that the speedy loss of their means of
subsistence must follow from the same course. It was natural that
such persons should avail themselves of the opportunity presented by
the distracted state of the country, to strike a blow for the
restoration of the native rule, under which the permitted
disorganisation of the country had so long been to them a source of
unlawful profit. Neither the disbanded soldiers of the late native
government, nor the great thalookdars and their retainers, were
under any obligation of fidelity to our government for benefits
conferred upon them. You would be justified, therefore, in dealing
with them as you would with a foreign enemy, and in ceasing to
consider them objects of punishment after they have once laid down
their arms.
‘7. Of these arms they must for ever be deprived. You will
doubtless, in prosecution of this object, address yourself in the
first instance to the case of the great thalookdars, who so
successfully defied the late government, and many of whom, with
large bodies of armed men, appear to have aided the efforts of the
mutinous soldiery of the Bengal army. The destruction of the
fortified strongholds of these powerful landholders, the forfeiture
of their remaining guns, the disarming and disbanding of their
followers, will be amongst your first works. But, whilst you are
depriving this influential and once dangerous class of people of
their power of openly resisting your authority, you will, we have no
doubt, exert yourself by every possible means to reconcile them to
British rule, and encourage them, by liberal arrangements made in
accordance with ancient usages, to become industrious
agriculturists, and to employ in the cultivation of the soil the men
who, as armed retainers, have so long wasted the substance of their
masters and desolated the land. We believe that these landholders
may be taught that their holdings will be more profitable to them
under a strong government, capable of maintaining the peace of the
country, and severely punishing agrarian outrages, than under one
which perpetually invites, by its weakness, the ruinous arbitration
of the sword.
‘8. Having thus endeavoured, on the re-establishment of the
authority of the British government in Oude, to reassure the great
landholders, you will proceed to consider, in the same spirit of
toleration and forbearance, the condition of the great body of the
people. You will bear in mind that it is necessary, in a transition
state from one government to another, to deal tenderly with existing
usages, and sometimes even with existing abuses. All precipitate
reforms are dangerous. It is often wiser even to tolerate evil for a
time, than to alarm and to irritate the minds of the people by the
sudden introduction of changes which time can alone teach them to
appreciate, or even, perhaps, to understand. You will be especially
careful, in the readjustment of the fiscal system of the province,
to avoid the imposition of unaccustomed taxes, whether of a general
or of a local character, pressing heavily upon the industrial
resources and affecting the daily comforts of the people. We do not
estimate the successful administration of a newly acquired province
according to the financial results of the first few years. At such a
time we should endeavour to conciliate the people by wise
concessions, and to do nothing to encourage the belief that the
British government is more covetous of revenue than the native ruler
whom it has supplanted.’
K.
The last document here given is a letter of instructions from the
Court of Directors, kind and courteous towards the governor-general,
but evidently conveying an opinion that the proposed proclamation,
unless modified and acted on with caution, would be too severe for
the purpose in view:
‘_Political Department, 18th of May (No. 20) 1858._
‘1. The secret committee has communicated to us the
governor-general’s secret letter, dated 5th March (No. 9) 1858, with
its enclosures, consisting of a letter addressed to the
chief-commissioner of Oude, dated 3d of March, and of the
proclamation referred to therein, which was to be issued by Sir
James Outram to the chiefs and inhabitants of Oude as soon as the
British troops should have possession or command of the city of
Lucknow.
‘2. We have also received communication of the letter addressed to
your government by the secret committee, under date the 19th of
April last, on the subject of the draft of proclamation.
‘3. Our political letter of the 5th of May has apprised you of our
strong sense of the distinction which ought to be maintained between
the revolted sepoys and the chiefs and people of Oude, and the
comparative indulgence with which, equally from justice and policy,
the insurgents of that country (other than sepoys) ought to be
regarded. In accordance with these views, we entirely approve the
guarantee of life and honour given by the proposed proclamation to
all thalookdars, chiefs, and landholders, with their followers, who
should make immediate submission, surrender their arms, and obey the
orders of the British government, provided they have not
participated in the murder “of Englishmen or Englishwomen.”
‘4. We are prepared to learn that in publicly declaring that, with
the exception of the lands of six persons who had been steadfast in
their allegiance, the proprietary right in the soil of the province
was confiscated to the British government, the governor-general
intended no more than to reserve to himself entire liberty of
action, and to give the character of mercy to the confirmation of
all rights not prejudicial to the public welfare, the owners of
which might not, by their conduct, have excluded themselves from
indulgent consideration.
‘5. His lordship must have been well aware that the words of the
proclamation, without the comment on it which we trust was speedily
afforded by your actions, must have produced the expectation of much
more general and indiscriminate dispossession than could have been
consistent with justice or with policy. We shall doubtless be
informed, in due course, of the reasons which induced the
governor-general to employ those terms, and of the means which, we
presume, have been taken of making known in Oude the merciful
character which we assume must still belong to your views. In the
meantime, it is due to the governor-general that we should express
our entire reliance that on this, as on former occasions, it has
been his firm resolution to shew to all whose crimes are not too
great for any indulgence, the utmost degree of leniency consistent
with the early restoration and firm maintenance of lawful authority.
‘We accordingly have to inform you, that on receiving communication
of the papers now acknowledged, the Court of Directors passed the
following resolution:
‘“Resolved—That in reference to the dispatch from the secret
committee to the governor-general of India, dated the 19th ult.,
with the documents therein alluded to, and this day laid before the
Court of Directors, this court desires to express its continued
confidence in the governor-general, Lord Canning, and its conviction
that his measure for the pacification of Oude, and the other
disturbed districts in India, will be characterised by a generous
policy, and by the utmost clemency that is found to be consistent
with the satisfactory accomplishment of that important object.”—We
are, &c.
(Signed)
‘F. CURRIE,
W. J. EASTWICK,
&c. &c.
‘_London, May 18, 1858._’
[Illustration:
Ganges Transport Boat.
]
-----
Footnote 157:
See Note G, at the end of the chapter.
Footnote 158:
See notes A and B, at the end of the chapter; where many of the
documents here referred to are printed in full.
Footnote 159:
See Note H.
Footnote 160:
‘1. That it appears, from papers laid upon the table of this House,
that a dispatch has been addressed by the Secret Committee of the
Court of Directors, to the governor-general of India, disapproving a
proclamation which the governor-general had informed the court he
intended to issue after the fall of Lucknow.
‘2. That it is known only from intelligence that has reached this
country, by correspondence published in newspapers, that the intended
proclamation has been issued, and with an important modification, no
official account of this proceeding having yet been received; that
this House is still without full information as to the grounds upon
which Lord Canning had acted, and his answer to the objections made to
his intended proclamation in the dispatch of the Secret Committee
cannot be received for several weeks.
‘3. That, under these circumstances, this House is unable to form a
judgment on the proclamation issued by Lord Canning, but thinks it
right to express its disapprobation of the premature publication by
her Majesty’s ministers of the dispatch addressed to the
governor-general; since this public condemnation of his conduct is
calculated to weaken the authority of the governor-general of India,
and to encourage those who are now in arms against this country.’
Footnote 161:
‘That this House, whilst it abstains from expressing any opinion on
the policy of any proclamation which may have been issued by the
governor-general of India with relation to Oude, has seen with great
and serious apprehension that her Majesty’s government have addressed
to the governor-general of India, through the Secret Committee of the
East India directors, and have published, a dispatch condemning in
strong terms the conduct of the governor-general. And this House is of
opinion that such a course upon the part of her Majesty’s government
must tend, under the present circumstances of India, to produce a most
prejudicial effect, by weakening the authority of the
governor-general, and encouraging further resistance on the part of
those who are still in arms against us.’
Footnote 162:
See Note C.
Footnote 163:
See Note D.
Footnote 164:
See Note E.
[Illustration:
JUNG BAHADOOR, of Nepaul.
]
CHAPTER XXVIII.
MILITARY OPERATIONS IN APRIL.
The British officers and soldiers in India looked forward, not without
anxiety, to a hot-weather campaign in the summer of 1858. Much
disappointment was felt, too, in England, when necessity for such a
campaign became manifest. Persons in all ranks had fondly hoped that,
when Sir Colin Campbell had spent two or three months in preparing for
the siege of Lucknow, he would be enabled so to invest that city as to
render the escape of the mutineers impossible; and that in conquering
it, the heart of the rebellion would be crushed out. The result did not
answer to this expectation. Lucknow was conquered; but the prisoners
taken could be reckoned simply by dozens; nearly all the rebels who were
not killed escaped into the provinces. It is true that they were now a
dispersed body instead of a concentrated army; but it is also true that,
in abandoning Lucknow, they would retire to many towns and forts where
guns could be found, and where a formidable stand might be made against
British troops. Let the summer approach, and the ratio of advantages on
the two sides would be changed in character. Hot weather may affect the
sepoy, but it affects him relatively less than the Englishman. It is
heart-breaking work to a gallant soldier to feel his bodily strength
failing through heat, at a time when his spirit is as heroic as ever.
The rebels were astute enough to know this. The lithe Hindoo, with
supple limbs and no superfluous flesh, can make great marches—especially
when he retreats. His goods and chattels are few in number; his
household arrangements simple; and it costs him little time or thought
to shift his quarters at a short notice, in a period of peace. During
war or rebellion, when he becomes a soldier, his worldly position is
even more simple than before. A man who can live upon rice, parched
corn, and water, and to whom it is a matter of much indifference whether
he is clothed or not, has a remarkable freedom of movement, requiring
little intricacy of commissariat arrangements. The English, during the
war of the mutiny, had ample means of observing this mobility of the
native rebel troops, and ample reasons for lamenting its consequences.
If this were so during the winter, it would be still more decidedly the
case during a hot-weather campaign, when exhaustion and _coups de
soleil_ work so terribly on the European constitution. It was this
consideration, as we have said, that gave rise to much disappointment,
both in India and in England, when the real sequel of the siege of
Lucknow became apparent. The disappointment resolved itself in some
quarters into adverse criticism on Sir Colin Campbell’s tactics; but
even those who deemed it wise and just to postpone such criticism, could
not postpone their anxiety when they found that the rebels, fleeing from
Lucknow, assumed such an attitude elsewhere as would render a summer
campaign necessary.
The long sojourn of the commander-in-chief in and near the Oudian
capital, and the frequent communications between him and the
governor-general, told of serious and weighty discussions concerning the
policy to be pursued. Rumours circulated of an antagonism of plans; of
one project for leaving the rebels unmolested until after the hot season
should have passed, and of another for crushing them in detail before
they could succeed in recombining. But whatever might have been the
rumours, the policy adopted followed the latter of these two courses.
The army of Lucknow, broken up into divisions or columns, was set again
to work, to pursue and defeat those insurgents who kept the field with a
pertinacity little expected when the mutiny began. So much of those
operations as took place during the month of April, it is the purpose of
this chapter to narrate; but a few words may previously be said
concerning the state of affairs in Bengal, more dependent on Calcutta
than on the army of Oude or the commander-in-chief.
The fact has already been adverted to that the supreme government, amid
all the anxiety of the rebellion in the northwest, began in the spring
of the year to take measures for the better protection of Lower Bengal.
That province, the most important in the whole of India, had been very
little affected by the mutiny, chiefly because there were few Mohammedan
leaders inclined to become rebels; but the authorities could not close
their eyes to the facts that the province was very insufficiently
defended, and that any successful revolt there would be more disastrous
than in other regions. So long as the delta of the Ganges remained in
British hands, there would always be a base of operations for
reconquering Upper India, if necessary; but that delta once lost, the
services of a Clive, backed by a large army from England, would be again
needed to recover it. A plan was therefore formed for locating five or
six thousand European troops in Bengal, quartered at Calcutta, Dumdum,
Chinsura, Barrackpore, Dinapoor, Benares, and one or two other places.
It became very seriously contested whether any native army whatever
would be needed in the province. The Bengalees are peaceful, and have
few ambitious chieftains among them; hence, it was argued, a few
thousand British troops, and a few hundred seamen of the Naval Brigade,
would suffice to protect the province. There were ‘divisional
battalions’ of native troops still at certain stations, as a sort of
military police; but the regular Bengal native army had been
extinguished, or had extinguished itself. So useful had a few hundred
seamen become, that their employment led to many such suggestions as the
following—‘Wherever these seamen are, there is a feeling of absolute
security at once from external attack and internal treachery. Bengal has
now been nearly twelve months without a native army, and within that
twelve months they have never once been missed. Why not retain this
security? Why not strike off Bengal from the provinces to be occupied by
a native force, and render our improvised force a permanent institution?
A company of European sailors would be a nucleus for the armed police in
each division. Why not keep them up as such, give them permanent
allowances, recruit them primarily from the same useful class? There can
be no want of men when once such a permanent opening is known. They
would not only protect the great cities, and double the physical force
on which all authority must ultimately rest, but act as a permanent
check on the divisional battalions. We want such a check. These men may
be as faithful as the sepoys have been false, as attached to Europeans
as the sepoys have proved themselves hostile; but there can never be any
proof of the fact. Let us not again trust armed natives without the
precautions we take in our ships against our own sailors—a check by a
different body.’ All such considerations necessarily resolved themselves
into a much larger inquiry, to be conducted deliberately and
cautiously—how ought the army of India to be re-constituted?
Semi-barbarous tribes in many instances took advantage of the disturbed
state of British influence in India, to make inroads into districts not
properly belonging to them; and it sometimes happened that the
correction of these evildoers was a very difficult matter. Such an
instance occurred in the month now under notice. On the borders of
Assam, at the extreme northeast corner of India, were a wild mountain
tribe called Abors, who had for some time been engaged in a system of
marauding on the Assam side of the frontier. Captain Bivar, at
Debrooghur, set forth to punish them, taking with him a mixed force of
sailors and Goorkhas. The Abors retreated to their fastnesses, and Bivar
attempted to follow them; but this was an unsuccessful manœuvre. The
Abors brought down many of his men by poisoned arrows, and maimed others
by rolling down stones upon them from the rocks; a portion of their
numbers, meanwhile, making a circuit, fell upon the baggage-boats, and
captured the whole of the baggage. Captain Bivar and his companions
suffered many privations before they safely got back to Debrooghur.
These, however, were minor difficulties, involving no very serious
consequences. Throughout the northeast region of India there were few
‘Pandies,’ few sepoys of Hindustani race; and thus the materials for
rebellion were deprived of one very mischievous ingredient.
The Calcutta authorities found it necessary to make stringent rules
concerning ladies and children; and hence some of the magistrates and
collectors, the representatives of the Company in a civil capacity in
the country districts, were occasionally placed in troublesome
circumstances by family considerations during times of tumult. From the
first, the Calcutta government had endeavoured, by every available
means, to prevent women and children from going to the scenes of danger:
knowing how seriously the movements of the officers, military and civil,
would be interfered with by the presence of helpless relatives during
scenes of fighting and tumult. One of the magistrates, in Western
Bengal, was brought into difficulty by disobedience to this order. His
wife entreated that she might come to him at his station. She did so.
Shortly afterwards a rumour spread that a large force of the enemy was
approaching. The lady grew frightened, and the husband anxious. He took
her to another place, and was thereby absent from his post at a critical
time. The government suspended him from office for disobeying orders in
having his wife at the station, and for quitting his district without
leave at a time when his presence was imperatively needed.
One other matter may be mentioned here, in connection with the local
government, before proceeding to the affairs of Oude and the northwest.
The Calcutta authorities shared with the Court of Directors, the English
government, and the House of Commons, the power of rewarding or
honouring their troops for good services; the modes adopted were many;
but amid the controversies which occasionally arose concerning military
honours, medals, promotions, and encomiums, it was made very manifest
during the wars of the mutiny that the Victoria Cross, the recognition
of individual valour, was one of the most highly valued by the soldiery,
both officers and privates. The paltriness of the bits of metal and
ribbon, or the tastelessness of the design, might be abundantly
criticised; but when it became publicly known that the Cross would be
given _only_ to those who had shewn themselves to be brave among the
brave, the value of the symbol was great, such as a soldier or sailor
could alone appreciate. From time to time notices appeared in the
_London Gazette_, emanating from the War-office, giving the utmost
publicity to the instances in which the Victoria Cross was bestowed. The
name of the officer or soldier, the regiment or corps to which he
belonged, the commanding officer who had made the recommendation, the
dispatch in which the deed of bravery was recorded, the date and place
of that deed, the nature of the deed itself—all were briefly set forth;
and there can be little doubt that the recipients of the Cross would
cherish that memorial, and the _Gazette_ notice, to the end of their
lives. Incidental notices of this honorary testimonial have been
frequently made in former chapters; and it is mentioned again here
because of its importance in including officers and privates in the same
category. Thus, on the 27th of April, to give one instance, the _London
Gazette_ announced the bestowal of the Victoria Cross on
Lieutenant-colonel Henry Tombs, of the Bengal artillery; Lieutenant
James Hills, of the same corps; Lieutenant William Alexander Kerr, of
the 24th Bombay native infantry; Sergeant John Smith, of the Bengal
Sappers and Miners; Bugler Robert Hawthorne, of the 52d foot;
Lance-corporal Henry Smith, of the same regiment; Sergeant Bernard
Diamond, of the Bengal horse-artillery; and Gunner Richard Fitzgerald,
of the same corps. Sergeant Smith and Bugler Hawthorne, it will be
remembered, assisted poor Home, Salkeld, and Burgess in blowing up the
Cashmere Gate at Delhi; unlike their heroic but less fortunate
companions, they lived to receive the Victoria Cross.[165]
Let us now pass to the stormy northwest regions. Beginning with Lucknow
as a centre, it will be convenient to treat of Sir Colin’s arrangements
at that place, and then to notice in succession the operations of his
brigadiers in their movements radially from that centre, so far as they
were connected with the month of April.
That portion of the army which remained in Lucknow found the month of
April to open with a degree of heat very distressing to bear. A
temperature of 100° F., under the shade of a tent, was not at all
unusual. When the wind was calm, the pressure of temperature was not
much felt; but the blowing of a hot wind was truly terrible—not only
from the heat itself, but from the clouds of dust laden with particles
of matter of the most offensive kind. Every organ of sense, every nerve,
every pore, was distressed. And it was at such a time that a commander
was called upon to plan, and officers and soldiers to execute, military
operations with as much care and exactitude as if under a cool and
temperate sky. There were putrefying bodies yet unburied in the
vicinity, pools of recently dried blood in the streets and gardens, and
abominations of every kind in this city of palaces: how these affected
the air, in a temperature higher than is ever known in England, may be
imperfectly, and only imperfectly, conceived.[166]
The last chapter told in what way the treatment of the Oude rebels
engaged the attention of the imperial legislature, and what were the
violent discussions to which that subject gave rise. In this place it
will only be necessary to state that, long before Viscount Canning
came to hear the views of the two Houses of Parliament, he found it
necessary to determine, if not the policy itself, at least the names
of those who would have the onerous task of re-establishing civil
government in the distracted province. Mr Montgomery, who, as judicial
commissioner of the Punjaub, had rendered admirable service to Sir
John Lawrence, was selected by the governor-general to fill the office
of chief-commissioner of Oude—aided by a staff of judicial and
financial commissioners, civil and military secretaries,
deputy-commissioners, commissioners of divisions, deputy-commissioners
of districts, and other officers. It was believed that he combined the
valuable qualities of sagacity, experience, firmness, and
conciliation. Oude was to be parcelled out into four divisions, and
each division into three districts. The intention was, that as soon as
any part of the province was brought into some degree of order by Sir
Colin and his brigadiers, Montgomery should take it in hand, and bring
it to order in relation to judicial and revenue affairs. Large powers
were given to him, in relation to ‘proclamations’ and everything else;
and it remained for time to shew the result.
While on this subject, it may be well to advert to the conduct and
position of one particular native of Oude. During many months the line
of policy pursued by the influential Oudian landowner, Rajah Maun
Singh, was a subject of much anxiety among the British authorities.
His power in Oude was very considerable, and it was fondly hoped or
wished that he might prove faithful in mutinous times. This hope was
founded on two kinds of evidence, positive and negative—proofs that he
had often befriended the poor European fugitives in the hour of
greatest need, and that on many occasions he had _not_ injured the
British when he might easily have done so. Nevertheless it was
impossible to get rid of the impression that he was ‘playing fast and
loose;’ reserving himself for whichever party should gain the
ascendency in the Indian struggle. So much importance was attached in
England to this rajah’s conduct, that the House of Commons ordered the
production of any documents that might throw light upon it. The papers
produced ranged over a period of six months. So early as June 1857,
when the mutiny was only six or seven weeks old, Mr Tucker,
commissioner of Benares, wrote to Maun Singh concerning the relations
between him and the British government—acknowledging the steadiness of
the rajah in maintaining the district of Fyzabad in a peaceful
condition, so far as he could, and assuring him that it would be good
policy for him to continue in the same path. He told him that although
England was engaged in a war with China, and had only just concluded
one with Persia, and that moreover her Hindustani troops had proved
faithless, she would undoubtedly triumph over all opposition from
within and without, and would equally remember those who had been true
and those who had been false to her—to reward the one and punish the
other. It was a letter of thanks for the past, and of warning for the
future. During the same month, Maun Singh was in correspondence with
Mr Paterson, magistrate of Goruckpore, giving and receiving friendly
assurances, and impressing the magistrate with a belief in his sincere
desire to remain faithful to the British government during a time of
trouble. In the middle of July he was in correspondence with Mr
Wingfield, British political agent with the Goorkha force at that time
in the Goruckpore district. Maun Singh, it may here be remarked, had
suffered severely in his estate, by the land-settlement made when the
Company took possession of Oude; he had suffered, whether rightly or
wrongly; and the Calcutta authorities were naturally anxious to know
whether his losses had converted him into a rebel. He wrote to Mr
Wingfield, promising to adhere faithfully to a course of friendliness
towards the English. Mr Wingfield recommended the government to trust
Maun Singh, to supply him with a certain amount of funds, and to
believe that he was able and willing to keep the districts of Fyzabad
and Sultanpore tolerably free from anarchy. He added: ‘All I see and
hear of Maun Singh makes me think him stanch up to this moment. He has
exerted himself in every way to protect the women and children that
were left at Fyzabad, and to place them in safety. He sent four
sergeants’ wives and seven children to this place; but we cannot
expect him to sacrifice himself for us. He has doubtless already made
himself obnoxious to the rebels by his open adhesion to our cause; and
if fortune goes against us at Lucknow, instead of being able to render
us any assistance, he will himself have to take shelter here.’ The
Calcutta government authorised Mr Wingfield to thank Maun Singh for
his actions and his promises, and to assist him with money to a
certain prescribed amount. In August a letter was sent to the rajah
himself by the government, thanking him for what he had done, and
urging him to a continuance in the same course. Many months
afterwards, the Calcutta authorities had again to discuss this
subject. During the autumn, Maun Singh’s former promises had been a
good deal belied. He had been in and near Lucknow during the period
when Havelock, Outram, and Campbell were engaged in warfare at that
city; and it was more than suspected that he had aided the insurgents.
True, he was a man who, having something of the feelings of a
gentleman, rather succoured than persecuted hapless fugitives who were
powerless for aught save suffering; but his proceedings in other ways
were not satisfactory. When Outram commanded in the Residency, shut up
with Havelock and Inglis, he exchanged many communications with the
rajah, but to no satisfactory end. During the winter, rumours reached
Maun Singh that the governor-general, regarding him as a traitor in
spite of his many promises, intended to deprive him of his estates, as
a punishment. He wrote a reproachful letter to Mr Brereton, the
magistrate at Goruckpore—complaining that this was a poor reward for
his services; that he went with his family to Lucknow because he was
threatened by insurgents at Fyzabad; but that throughout the various
sieges at Lucknow he never joined the rebels in attacking the British.
Among various letters from the officials, were two which shewed that
Mr Wingfield had greatly modified his former favourable opinion of the
Fyzabad rajah. On the 2d of February he wrote: ‘Maun Singh is not the
man to be selected as an object of clemency. He has not the excuse of
having been hurried into insurrection by the force of example, the
impetuosity of his feelings, or even regard for his personal safety.
He withstood all these trials; for it was on mature reflection, and
after weighing all the chances on either side, that he chose that of
rebellion. As long as he thought the success of the insurrection was
but transient, and that our government would speedily recover its
position, he professed loyalty, and even supported us; but when he
heard that the Goorkhas were not to march through Fyzabad, and that
Havelock had been obliged to abandon his design of relieving the
Residency and to retire on Cawnpore, he thought our case hopeless, and
joined what appeared the triumphant side. He has now found out his
mistake, and wishes to turn again.’ Again, on the 12th of February Mr
Wingfield wrote: ‘On Maun Singh’s conduct I look with some distrust,
which his letter does not tend to remove. Our Fyzabad news-writer,
whose information has invariably proved correct, reports that the
rajah has had an interview with some of the sepoy officers, and agreed
to their proposal to invade this (Goruckpore) district, and moved
three of his guns down to the Ghat. It would be quite consistent with
his known character for duplicity to infer that, while aiding the
insurgents, he is trying to keep well with us.’ The double-dealer had,
indeed, his hands full of employment; for he had been sounding Sir
James Outram at the Alum Bagh, before he applied to the Goruckpore
authorities, at the very time that he had on hand some sort of
negotiation with the rebels. He succeeded so far as this—that no party
liked absolutely to throw him off. Mr Wingfield, in writing to the
government, candidly admitted that, inscrutable and unreliable as Maun
Singh was, matters would have gone worse for the British in Oude if he
had not been there. ‘It must be admitted that his neutrality up to the
present time has paralysed the plans of the insurgents, and has made
him the object of their indignation. Had he declared himself openly
against us, the district of Goruckpore would long ago have been
invaded.’ On the 16th of February the governor-general sent orders
from Allahabad, as to the mode in which any overtures from Maun Singh
should be received. He directed that the rajah should be thanked for
the humanity he had shewn towards individuals; reminded that strong
suspicions were entertained of his complicity with the rebels;
threatened with a full and searching inquiry into his past conduct;
and recommended to submit himself—without any other conditions than a
promise of his life and honour—to the British authorities. But Maun
Singh did not follow this advice—he remained throughout the spring
months balancing and trimming between loyalty and disloyalty.
Reverting to the state of affairs at Lucknow, it may here be observed
that the commander-in-chief remained in that city until the middle of
April. There was nothing Napoleonic, nothing rapid, in his movements
after the conquest; but those who knew him best knew that he was
organising plans of operation for all his brigadiers, and on all sides
of the Oudian capital. So thoroughly was he master of his own secrets,
and of his correspondence with the governor-general, that very little
concerning his plans were known until the very day of operation. Even
the higher officers had little but conjecture to rest upon; while the
mere retailers of gossip were sorely puzzled for materials. It may be
that the excessive publicity of the details of the Crimean war had
rendered military authorities uneasy, and tended to render them chary of
giving information of their plans in any subsequent wars. During the
second week in the month, Sir Colin Campbell took a rapid gallop to
Allahabad—a long distance and a somewhat perilous ride in such a
disturbed state of the country; but he was not a man to care for
distance or for danger, as personally affecting himself. He had many
weighty questions to settle with Viscount Canning; and as the
governor-general could not or would not go to the commander, the
commander went to the governor-general. The result of the interview was
the departure of Sir Colin Campbell himself, as well as his generals,
for active service in districts distant from Lucknow.
It will be desirable to trace the movements of the generals and
brigadiers singly before noticing those of the commander-in-chief and
his head-quarters.
And first, for Sir James Outram. This eminent man, the second in
influence among the military commanders in India, quitted Lucknow nearly
at the same time as many other officers; but on a different mission.
When that city was conquered, Outram at once became supreme authority
there, as chief-commissioner of Oude. He collected round him a civil
staff, and proceeded to enrol a police, establish police-stations, and
restore order in the city. From these duties, however, he was summoned
away. His services were needed at Calcutta. The supreme council in that
city generally contained one military officer among its members, to
advise on matters pertaining to war. General Low, who had for some time
filled that position, retired to England; and Outram was chosen to
supply his place. Personally, it was well that Sir James should quit the
camp for a while, after half a year’s incessant military employment in
Oude; and professionally, it was desirable that the council at Calcutta
should have the benefit of his assistance, in any plans for the
reorganisation of the Indian army—a most important matter, towards which
the attention of the authorities was necessarily much directed. Sir
James did not forget his old companions-in-arms. As soon as he reached
Calcutta, he gave orders that copies of one of the newspapers should be
regularly sent to the hospitals of six of the British regiments at
Cawnpore, Meerut, Lucknow, and Benares; he knew how irksome are the
hours in a sick-room, and how joyfully a few books or journals are
hailed in such a place.
The lines of operation marked out for the other generals naturally bore
relation to the real or supposed position of the insurgent forces. The
rumours which reached head-quarters concerning the concentration of
rebel leaders in Rohilcund, even making allowance for exaggerations,
told of a somewhat formidable organisation. Among the best-known names
included in the list were Khan Bahadoor Khan, Nena Sahib, Fuzul Huq,
Waladid Khan, and the Nawab of Furruckabad. Khan Bahadoor Khan was chief
ruler; and he appears to have organised something like a regular
government, with dewans, moonshees, naibs, darogahs, kotwals, nazims,
and military commanders. Nena Sahib was there as a sort of distinguished
refugee; as were also two shahzadas or princes of the royal family of
Delhi. Nena Sahib is supposed to have arrived at Bareilly in Rohilcund,
after Sir Colin’s great victory at Lucknow, with four hundred troopers,
and to have taken up his abode in the fine large native school-room
built by the British in that city. One among many bazaar reports was,
that Khan Bahadoor Khan began to entertain misgivings concerning the
ultimate success of his rebel policy; but that Nena Sahib, acting on his
fears, insisted that a drawing back would be ruinous. Another rumour,
having much probability to recommend it, was to the effect that Nena
Sahib looked to Central India, the region of Gwalior, Kotah, and Indore,
as the field in which his own personal success might ultimately be best
insured, on account of his great influence among the Mahrattas of that
region; and it was supposed that, failing of success in Oude and
Rohilcund, he would endeavour to cross the Ganges and the Jumna into
Bundelcund and Central India. Hence one of the points of policy on the
side of the commander-in-chief, was to guard those great rivers at as
many ghats or passing-places as possible—in the hope that, confined to
Oude and Rohilcund, the rebels might be crushed; and in the fear that,
scattered over Central India, they might again become powerful. Whether
his forces were sufficiently numerous for this duty, was one of the many
questions that pressed upon Sir Colin Campbell. The trite saying of an
enemy ‘not knowing when they were beaten,’ was many times revived by the
British officers in those days; the mutineers seldom gained a victory;
but on the other hand, they were not much disheartened by defeat; they
retreated, only to collect and fight again; and thus the British troops
seldom felt that a victory would give an unquestionably permanent
advantage.
Of the leaders who had taken part in the conquest of Lucknow, Jung
Bahadoor, the Nepaulese chieftain—as has been shown in a former
chapter—went to Allahabad with a body-guard, to hold an interview with
the governor-general. The rest of the Goorkha contingent retraced their
steps by slow degrees towards their Nepaulese home. So late as the 22d
of April, the main body of Goorkhas were no further from Lucknow than
Nawabgunge, a town on the banks of the Gogra, northeast of the capital
of Oude. On that day, they marched to Sutturgunje, and on the 23d to
Durriabad. This town had a fort which might have made a stout
resistance, but there were no rebel troops at hand to put the matter to
proof. After remaining at Durriabad two days, the Goorkhas marched on
the 25th to Shugahgunje, on the 26th to Mobarrukgunje, and on the 27th
to Durabgunje—all of them places on or near the banks of the Gogra, on
the route towards Fyzabad. Resting two days at Durabgunje, they marched
on the 29th to Ayodha or Oude, the ancient Hindoo capital, afterwards
supplanted by the Mohammedan Fyzabad, just at hand—which Fyzabad was in
its turn supplanted by Lucknow. On the last day of the month, the
Goorkhas were on one side of the river Gogra at Fyzabad, and a body of
rebels on the other—each intently watching the other, but without
fighting. Maun Singh was at that time at Fyzabad, friendly to the
British. Little satisfaction appears to have been derived by any party
from this co-operation of the Goorkhas with the British. In the
preceding July and August, when Havelock was straining every nerve to
bring a small force up to Lucknow, and when Inglis was contending
against stupendous difficulties in that city—in those months, there was
an army of three or four thousand Goorkhas near the eastern frontier of
Oude, badly commanded and insufficiently employed. Why they were not
pushed on to Lucknow, as an auxiliary force, was known only to the
authorities; but, in its effect, this inactivity of the Goorkhas called
forth much adverse criticism. Again, during the six months from the
beginning of September to the beginning of March, the assistance from
Nepaul was not of such a character as had been hoped by those who knew
that the Goorkhas enlisted in the Sirmoor and Kumaon battalions were
really brave and efficient troops, and who expected that Jung Bahadoor’s
Goorkhas would prove to be men of the same stamp. Why the aid rendered
was so small, was a politico-military question, on which very little
information was afforded. When, at last, a really large Nepaulese army
entered Oude, its movements were so slow that Sir Colin began the siege
of Lucknow without its aid; and when the siege was over, the army began
to march back again, without participating further in the war. This was
a very impotent result; and the Nepaulese episode was by no means a
brilliant one in the history of the wars of the mutiny. So far as
concerns the march during the month of April, from Lucknow towards the
Nepaul frontier, it may be remarked that the Goorkhas dreaded the
approaching hot weather, that their number of sick was very large, and
that the carts for their baggage were so enormous in number as greatly
to impede their movements.
[Illustration:
Goorkha Havildar or Sergeant.
]
Another of the generals concerned in the siege of Lucknow, Sir Edward
Lugard, was intrusted by the commander-in-chief with service in a region
infested by Koer Singh—the chieftain whose name had been so closely
associated with the Dinapoor mutiny and the ‘disaster at Arrah,’ in the
preceding summer. This rebel had worked round nearly in a circle—not
metaphorically, but topographically. He had marched at the head of
insurgents south and southwest from Arrah, then west into Bundelcund,
then north into the Doab and Oude; and now it was his fortune to be
driven east and southeast back to his old quarters in the neighbourhood
of Arrah.
Before Lugard could cross the frontier into the provinces eastward of
Oude, it was found necessary to bring smaller forces to bear upon bodies
of rebels infesting those provinces, and threatening to command the
region between the rivers Goomtee and Gogra. The city of Azimghur was in
this way greatly indebted to the gallant exertions of Lord Mark Kerr.
This officer, immediately on the arrival of news that Azimghur was beset
by the enemy, started off from Benares on the 2d of April, with 450 men
of H.M. 13th regiment and Queen’s Bays, and two 6-pounder guns. Though
impeded by a train of three hundred bullock-carts laden with ammunition,
Kerr pushed forward with such rapidity that he arrived in the
neighbourhood of Azimghur on the third day after quitting Benares. Here
he was opposed by three or four thousand rebels, comprising a large
proportion of sepoys of the too celebrated Dinapoor brigade. The rebels
were commanded with some skill by a subadar of one of the mutinied
regiments. They occupied a position of considerable strength, on the
right and left sides of the main road; their right resting on a strong
village, and their left protected by a ditch and embankment. Lord Mark
succeeded in dislodging those of the enemy who were immediately in his
front; but while thus engaged, his convoy in the rear was attacked by
eight hundred rebels, who were with great difficulty beaten off, at the
expense of the life of Captain Jones, who was guarding the convoy.
Overcoming all resistance, Lord Mark succeeded in reaching a point near
Azimghur, and remained there until the arrival of Lugard’s column from
Lucknow. This portion of the rebels did not return to the city after the
action, but retired in good order, taking their guns and baggage with
them.
Azimghur, however, needed the assistance of a larger force than Kerr
could bring against it; for Koer Singh, with a formidable band of
rebels, had to be contended against, in a region containing many large
towns. Sir Edward Lugard, placed by Sir Colin Campbell in command of a
column destined for service in this region, started from Lucknow during
the last week in March; but the destruction of a bridge over the Goomtee
at Sultanpore greatly delayed his progress, and compelled him to take a
circuitous route by Jounpoor, which city he did not reach till the 9th
of April. His column was a strong one; comprising three regiments of
infantry, three of Sikh horse, a military train, three batteries of
horse-artillery, and seven hundred carts full of warlike stores. On the
evening of the 10th, he marched out from Jounpoor, to encounter Gholab
Hossein, one of the rebel chuckladars or leaders. The enemy did not stay
to fight, but retreated precipitately. They required close watching,
however; for while Sir Edward was on the march from Jounpoor to
Azimghur, a large rebel force got into his rear, and attempted to
re-enter Jounpoor. This caused him to modify his plan, and to disperse
the rebels before proceeding to Azimghur. In this he succeeded, but lost
the services of Lieutenant Charles Havelock, nephew of the distinguished
general. The gallant young officer, at the commencement of the mutiny,
had been adjutant of the 12th Bengal native irregular cavalry, and was
thrown out of employment by the revolt of that regiment. He then went as
a volunteer with his uncle, and was for nine months more or less engaged
in the operations in and around Lucknow. When Lugard left the army of
Oude, and took command of the column whose operations are here being
recorded, young Havelock accompanied him, holding a command in a Goorkha
battalion. It was while Lugard was dispersing the rebels near Jounpoor,
that the lieutenant was killed by a shot from a hut in an obscure
village.
Sir Edward, resuming his march towards Azimghur, reached that city at
length on the 15th, somewhat vexed at the numerous delays that had
occurred on his journey. On his arrival at the bridge of boats which
crossed the small river Tons at that city, he encountered a portion of
Koer Singh’s main army. They fought well, and with some determination;
and it was not without a struggle that he defeated and dispersed them.
Mr Venables, the civilian who had gained so high a reputation for
courage during the earlier mutinous proceedings in the district, was
wounded on this occasion. The East India Company had reason to be proud
of its civilians, for the most part, during the troubles; Mr Venables
was only one among many who nobly distinguished themselves. After this
battle at the bridge, it soon became evident, as in many other
instances, that the rebels had been too quick for their pursuers. Koer
Singh and the main body of his force were quitting Azimghur on the one
side just when Lugard entered it on the other; the fighting was merely
with the rear guard, and all the rest of the insurgents marched off
safely. As it was by no means desirable that they should escape to work
mischief elsewhere, Sir Edward, on the 16th, sent off Brigadier Douglas
in pursuit of them, with the 37th and 84th regiments, some cavalry and
artillery. Lugard himself proposed to encamp for a while at Azimghur.
We have now for a time to leave Sir Edward Lugard, and to notice the
unsatisfactory result of the operations which he initiated. The town of
Arrah was destined to be the scene of another discomfiture of British
troops, as mortifying if not as disastrous as that which occurred early
in the mutiny, and inflicted by the same hand—Koer Singh. When this
indefatigable rebel was driven out of Azimghur, he separated from some
of the other chieftains, at a point which he believed would enable him
to cross the Ganges into the district of Shahabad, where Arrah would be
near at hand. He marched with two thousand sepoys and a host of rabble.
Brigadier Douglas pursued him with great rapidity, marching a hundred
miles in five days of great heat; he came up with the rebels at Bansdeh,
defeated them, and drove them to Beyriah, Koer Singh himself being
wounded. On the 21st, a portion of Douglas’s force again came up with
the enemy while in the act of crossing the Ganges at Seoporeghat in the
Ghazeepore district. It appeared that Koer Singh had cleverly outwitted
Colonel Cumberlege, who, with two regiments of Madras cavalry, was
endeavouring to aid Douglas in crushing him at a particular spot. Koer
Singh did not wait to be crushed, but swiftly and silently marched to
the Ganges at a spot not guarded by Cumberlege. When Douglas’s troops
came up, they killed a few of the rebels, and captured two guns, six
elephants, and much ammunition and treasure—but the interception had not
been prompt enough; for Koer Singh and the greater part of his force had
safely crossed to the right bank of the river. The remainder of
Douglas’s column came up on the evening of this day, quite worn out with
their long march, and needing some days’ rest. Koer Singh, although
beaten first by Lugard and then by Douglas, had baffled them both in
reference to a successful flight; and now it was his fortune (though
wounded) to baffle a third British officer. The rebels reached Koer
Singh’s hereditary domain of Jugdispore. The town of Arrah was at that
time occupied by 150 men of H.M. 35th foot, 150 of Rattray’s Sikhs, and
50 seamen of the Naval Brigade—the whole under Captain Le Grand. This
officer, hearing of the approach of the rebels, and knowing that small
bodies had often defeated large armies during the course of the war,
sallied forth to prevent the march of Koer Singh to Jugdispore, or else
to disturb him at that place. He found them posted in a jungle. They
were nearly two thousand in number, but dispirited, and without guns. Le
Grand’s small force, with the two 12-pounder howitzers, encountered the
enemy about two miles from Jugdispore, at daylight on the 23d. After an
ineffectual firing of the howitzers, a bugle-call threw everything into
confusion. Whether Le Grand, fearing to be surrounded, sounded a
retreat, or whether some other signal was misinterpreted, it appears
certain that his force fell into inextricable confusion; they abandoned
guns and elephants, and fled towards Arrah, followed by numbers of the
enemy, who shot and cut down many of them. The 35th suffered terribly;
two-thirds of their number were either killed or wounded, including
Captain Le Grand himself, Lieutenant Massey, and Dr Clarke. This
mortifying calamity, in which the unfortunate Le Grand is said to have
disobeyed instructions given by the superior officer of the district,
gave rise to much bitter controversy. The 35th was one of those
regiments of which the colonel was an old man, shattered in health, and
not well fitted to head his troops in active service. It was also, in
the heat of controversy, brought as a charge against him that he was a
martinet in matters of discipline, and kept his soldiers in red cloth
and pipe-clayed belts under the tremendous heat of an Indian sun. The
charges, in this as in many similar cases, may have been overwrought;
but all felt that the 35th had not behaved in such a way as English
troops are wont to behave when well commanded—and hence the inference
that they were _not_ well commanded.
A new series of operations became necessary as a consequence of this
disaster near Jugdispore. The news hastened the movements of Brigadier
Douglas, who on the 25th crossed the Ganges at Seenaghat, and pushed on
the 84th foot and two guns towards Jugdispore. It was, however, not till
the month of May that that jungle-haunt of rebels was effectually
cleared out. Meanwhile a little had been doing at another spot in the
same region. When, after the action at the bridge of Azimghur, Koer
Singh’s force divided into three, one of these divisions, with several
horse-artillery guns, marched towards Ghazeepore. Brigadier Gordon, at
Benares, at once ordered two companies of H.M. 54th to proceed to
Ghazeepore by hasty marches, half the number being carried on elephants
or in ekahs. It was hoped that these troops, coming in aid of small
numbers of royal troops, European cavalry, Madras cavalry, and two
6-pounder guns, already at Ghazeepore, would suffice to protect that
important city from the rebels; and this hope was realised. Considerably
to the northwest, between Goruckpore and the Oude frontier, Colonel
Rowcroft maintained a small force, with which from time to time he
repelled attacks made by the enemy. On the 17th of April, when at
Amorah, his camp was attacked by three thousand rebels; the attack was
not effectually resisted without eight hours’ hard fighting. The sepoys,
almost for the first time in the war, endeavoured to resist a cavalry
charge in British fashion, by kneeling in a line with upturned bayonets;
but a corps of Bengal yeomanry cavalry made the charge with such
impetuosity that the enemy were overthrown and a victory gained.
Such, in brief, was the general character of the operations eastward of
Oude. We have next to touch upon those of Sir Hope Grant, in Oude
itself.
This gallant general, as colonel of a cavalry regiment, had commenced
his share in the war as a subordinate to one or more brigadiers; but he
had since proved himself well worthy of the command of a column under
his own responsibility. When Sir Colin Campbell parcelled out among his
chief officers various duties consequent on the flight of the insurgents
from Lucknow, a column or division was made up, to be commanded by Sir
Hope Grant, to look after such of the rebels as had taken a northerly
direction. His column consisted of H.M. 38th foot, one battalion of the
Rifle Brigade, a regiment of Sikhs, H.M. 9th Lancers (Hope Grant’s own
regiment), a small body of reliable native cavalry, two troops of
horse-artillery, and a small siege and mortar train. It was known or
believed that the Moulvie of Fyzabad had collected a force near Baree,
about thirty miles north of Lucknow; and that the Begum of Oude, with
several cart-loads of treasure, had fled for concealment to Bitowlie,
the domain of a rebel named Gorhuccus Singh. To what extent Sir Hope
Grant would be able to capture, intercept, or defeat the rebels in the
service of these leaders, was a problem yet to be solved. He set out
from Lucknow on the 11th of April, with Brigadier Horsford as his second
in command. In the first three days the troops marched to Baree, on the
Khyrabad road; and then was experienced one of the perplexities of the
campaign. Every brigadier or divisional general was painfully impressed
with the danger of moving in a country where the mass of the population
was unfriendly. In many provinces the towns-people and villagers were
for the most part disposed, if not to aid the British, at least to hold
aloof; but the fact could not be concealed that the Oudians generally
were in a rebellious state of feeling, and would gladly have aided to
cut off the resources of Sir Colin’s lieutenants. It was merely one
among many examples, when Sir Hope Grant set out towards the Gogra, in
hopes to overtake the Begum and her fleeing forces; his column or
field-force was accompanied by no less than 6000 hackeries or vehicles
of various kinds, forming a line of nearly twenty miles; and it was
essentially necessary, while assuming the offensive in front, that the
flanks and rear of this immense train should be protected—a difficult
duty in a hostile country. Scarcely had Grant approached near Baree,
when the cavalry of the Moulvie’s rebel force got into his rear, and
attempted to cut off the enormous baggage-train. Sir Hope was too good a
general to be taken by surprise; but his rear-guard found enough to do
to repel the attack made upon them, and to protect the enormous
baggage-train. This done, and some horse-artillery guns captured, Sir
Hope Grant resumed his march. Turning eastward from Baree, he marched
towards the Gogra, in the hope of intercepting the flight of the Begum
of Oude, her paramour Mummoo Khan, and a large force of rebels. On the
15th he reached Mohamedabad, on this route; and on the 17th he halted at
Ramnuggur for a few days, while a strong reconnoitring party set forth
to ascertain if possible the exact position and strength of the rebels.
The news obtained was very indefinite, and amounted to little more than
this—that the Begum and Mummoo Khan were retreating northward with one
large force, and the Moulvie westward with another; but that it would
not be very easy to catch either, as the sepoys were celebrated for
celerity of movement during a retreat. Sir Hope Grant dispersed various
bodies of rebels, and disturbed the plans of the Begum and the Moulvie;
but he returned to Lucknow towards the close of the month without having
caught either of those wily personages, and with many of his troops laid
prostrate by the heat of the sun.
[Illustration:
GHAZEEPORE.
]
We turn now towards the west or northwest, on the Rohilcund side of
Oude. It has already been mentioned, that after the fall of Lucknow,
many of the rebel leaders fled to Rohilcund, with the hope of making a
bold stand at Bareilly, Shahjehanpoor, Moradabad, and other towns in
that province. Khan Bahadoor Khan, the self-appointed chief of Bareilly,
was nominally the head of the whole confederacy in this region; but it
depended on the chapter of accidents how long this leadership would
continue. At any rate, Sir Colin Campbell saw that he could not allow
this nest of rebels to remain untouched; Bareilly must be conquered, as
Delhi and Lucknow had been. The veteran commander probably mourned in
secret the necessity for sending his gallant troops on a long march,
into a new field of action, with a sun blazing on them like a ball of
fire; but seeing the necessity, he commanded, and they obeyed. His plan
of strategy comprised a twofold line of action—an advance of one column
northwestward from Lucknow; and an advance of another southeastward from
Roorkee; the two columns to assist in clearing the border districts of
Rohilcund, and then to meet at Bareilly, the chief city of the province.
We will notice first the operations of the force on the northeast
border.
Brigadier Jones, with the Roorkee field-force, commenced operations in
the eastern part of Rohilcund, about the middle of April. His force
consisted of H.M. 60th Rifles, the 1st Sikh infantry, Coke’s Rifles, the
17th Punjaub infantry, the Moultan Horse, with detachments of artillery
and engineers. The force numbered three thousand good troops in all, and
was strengthened by eight heavy and six light guns. Major (now
Brigadier) Coke, whose Punjaub riflemen had gained for themselves so
high a reputation, commanded the infantry portion of Jones’s column. The
column marched from Roorkee on the 15th, and made arrangements for
crossing to the left bank of the Ganges as soon as possible. A large
number of the enemy having intrenched themselves at Nagul, about sixteen
miles below Hurdwar on the left bank, Jones made his dispositions
accordingly. He determined to send his heavy guns and baggage to the
ghat opposite Nagul; while his main body should cross at Hurdwar, march
down the river on the other side, and take the intrenchment in flank.
This plan was completely carried out by the evening of the 17th—Nagul
being taken, the enemy driven away with great loss, and the whole column
safely encamped on that side of the Ganges which would afford easier
access to the hot-bed of the rebels at Bareilly. Four days afterwards,
Brigadier Jones encountered the Daranuggur insurgent force near Nageena
or Nuggeena, on the banks of a canal. The insurgents maintained a fire
for a time from nine guns; but Jones speedily attacked them with his
cavalry, outflanked them, charged, captured the guns and six elephants,
and put the enemy speedily to flight, after very considerable loss.
Jones’s killed and wounded were few in number; but he had to regret the
loss of Lieutenant Gostling, who was shot through the heart while
heading some of the troops. The brigadier resumed his march. Luckily for
British interests, Mooradabad was not so deeply steeped in rebellion as
Bareilly; and the Rajah of Rampore, not far distant, was faithful so far
as his small power would extend. The benefit of this state of affairs
was felt at the time now under notice. Feroze Shah, one of the Shahzadas
or princes of Delhi in league with the Bareilly mutineers, marched on
the 21st of April towards Mooradabad, to demand money and supplies. He
was refused; and much fighting and pillage resulted as consequences.
Brigadier Jones’s column came up opportunely; he entered Mooradabad on
the 26th, checked the plundering, drove out the rebels, captured many
insurgent chieftains, and re-established the confidence of the
towns-people. At the end of the month, Jones was still in Mooradabad or
its neighbourhood, ready for co-operation in May with another column
which we must now notice.
While Jones had been thus occupied, Bareilly and the rebels were
threatened on the other side by the Rohilcund field-force. During the
first two or three weeks after the conquest of Lucknow, Sir Colin
Campbell was engaged in various plans which did not permit of the
immediate dispatch of troops to Rohilcund; but on the 7th of April
several regiments began to assemble at the Moosa Bagh, to form a small
special army for service in that province. Why they were not despatched
earlier, was one of the many problems which the commander-in-chief kept
to himself. On the 9th this minor army, the Rohilcund field-force, set
out, with General Walpole as its commander, and Brigadier Adrian Hope at
the head of the infantry. The distance from Lucknow to Bareilly, about
fifteen marches, was through a region so ill provided with roads that
few or no night-marches could be made; it was necessary to have the aid
of daylight to avoid plunging into unforeseen difficulties and dangers.
As a consequence, the troops would be exposed to the heat of an Indian
sun during their journey, and had to look forward to many trials on that
account. Not the least among the numerous perplexities that arose out of
the defective state of the roads, was the difficulty of dragging the
guns which necessarily accompanied such a force; cavalry and infantry
were, in all such cases, inevitably delayed by the necessity of waiting
until the ponderous pieces of ordnance could arrive.[167]
Walpole’s field-force, resting at night under shady groves, it was hoped
might reach Bareilly about the 24th of the month; and this was the more
to be desired, seeing that Rohilcund, from its position in relation to
numerous rivers, becomes almost impassable as soon as the rains set
in—about the end of May or the beginning of June. Marching onward in
accordance with the plan laid down, Walpole came on the 14th of April to
one of the many forts which have so often been mentioned in connection
with the affairs of Oude. The name of the place, situated about fifty
miles from Lucknow, and ten from the Ganges, was variously spelled
Rhodamow, Roodhamow, Roer, and Roowah; but whatever the spelling, the
fort became associated in the minds of the British troops with more
angry complainings than any other connected with the war; since it was
the scene of a mortifying repulse which better generalship might have
avoided, and which was accompanied by the death of a very favourite
officer. Rhodamow was a small fort or group of houses enclosed by a high
mud-wall, loopholed for musketry, provided with irregular bastions at
the angles, and having two gates. It was a petty place, in relation to
the largeness of the force about to attack it—nearly six thousand men.
While marching through the jungle towards Rohilcund, Walpole heard that
fifteen hundred insurgents had thrown themselves into this fort of
Rhodamow; but the number proved to be much smaller. He attacked it with
infantry without previously using his artillery, and without (as it
would appear) a sufficient reconnaissance. He sent on the 42d
Highlanders and the 4th Punjaub infantry to take the fort; but no sooner
did the troops approach it than they were received by so fierce and
unexpected a fire of musketry, from a concealed enemy, that not only was
the advance checked, but the gallant Brigadier Adrian Hope was killed at
the head of his Highlanders. The troops could not immediately and
effectually reply to this fire, for their opponents were hidden behind
the loopholed wall. Everything seems to have been thrown into confusion
by this first fatal mistake; the supports were sent up too late, or to
the wrong place; and the exasperated troops were forced to retire, amid
yells of triumph from the enemy. The heavy guns were then brought to do
that which they ought to have done at first; they began to breach the
wall, but the enemy quietly evacuated the fort during the night, with
scarcely any loss. Besides Adrian Hope, several other officers were
either killed or wounded, and nearly a hundred rank and file. During
this mortifying disaster, in which the Highlanders were particularly
unfortunate in the loss of officers, Quartermaster Sergeant Simpson, of
the 42d, displayed that daring spirit of gallantry which so endears a
soldier to his companions. When the infantry had been recalled from the
attack, Simpson heard that two officers of his regiment had been left
behind, dead or wounded in the ditch outside the wall. He rushed out,
seized the body of Captain Bromley, and brought it back amid a torrent
of musketry; setting forth again, he brought in the body of Captain
Douglas in a similar way, and he did not cease until seven had been thus
brought away—to be recovered if only wounded, to be decently interred if
dead. It was a day, however, the memory of which could not be sweetened
by any such displays of gallantry, or by many subsequent victories; the
men of the two Highland regiments felt as if a deep personal injury had
been inflicted on them by the commander of the column. Sir Colin
Campbell, when the news of this untoward event reached him, paid a
marked compliment to Adrian Hope in his dispatch. ‘The death of this
most distinguished and gallant officer causes the deepest grief to the
commander-in-chief. Still young in years, he had risen to high command;
and by his undaunted courage, combined as it was with extreme kindness
and charm of manner, had secured the confidence of his brigade in no
ordinary degree.’ Viscount Canning, in a like spirit, officially
notified that ‘no more mournful duty has fallen upon the
governor-general in the course of the present contest than that of
recording the premature death of this distinguished young commander.’
General Walpole pursued his march, and had a successful encounter on the
22d with a large body of the enemy at Sirsa. His cavalry and artillery
attacked them so vigorously as to capture their guns and camp, and to
drive them over the Ramgunga in such haste as to leave them no time for
destroying the bridge of boats at that place. This achievement was
fortunate, for it enabled Walpole on the 23d to transport his heavy guns
quickly and safely over the Ramgunga at Allygunje. A few days after
this, he was joined by the commander-in-chief, whose movements we must
next notice.
It was immediately after Sir Colin Campbell’s return from his interview
with the governor-general at Allahabad, that he withdrew from Lucknow
all the remaining troops, except those destined for the defence of that
important city, and for the re-establishment of British influence in
Oude. He formed an expeditionary army, which he headed himself—or
rather, the army set forth from Lucknow to Cawnpore, and the
commander-in-chief joined it at the last-named place on the 17th of
April. The result of the conference at Allahabad had been, a
determination to march up the Doab to Furruckabad, and to attack the
Rohilcund rebels on a side where neither Jones nor Walpole could well
reach them. The heat was great, the rivers were rising, and the rains
were coming in a few weeks; and it became now a question whether the
movements from Lucknow as a centre had or had not been too long delayed.
Sir Colin with his column—for, being a mere remnant, it was too small a
force to designate an army—took their departure from Cawnpore on the
18th, leaving that city in the hands of a small but (at present)
sufficient body of troops. On the 19th he advanced to Kilianpore, on the
20th to Poorah, and on the 21st to Urrowl—marching during early morn,
and encamping in the hotter hours of the day. The day’s work commenced,
indeed, so early as one o’clock in the morning; when the elephants and
camels began to be loaded with their burdens, the equipage and tents
packed up, and the marching arrangements completed. Between two or three
o’clock, all being in readiness, away went infantry, cavalry, artillery,
engineers, commissariat, and a countless host of natives, horses,
camels, elephants, bullocks, and vehicles—covering an area of which the
real soldiers occupied but a very small part. They marched or rode till
about six o’clock; when all prepared for breakfast, and for a hot day
during which little active exertion was possible without imminent danger
of _coup de soleil_. Sir Colin’s train of munition and supplies was
enormous; for, in addition to the usual baggage of an army, he had to
take large commissariat supplies with him. The villagers held aloof in a
manner not usual in the earlier stages of the mutiny, and in other parts
of India; they did not come forward to engage in a traffic which would
certainly have been profitable to them, in selling provisions to the
army. Whether this arose from inability or disinclination, was a matter
for controversy; but the fact itself occasioned embarrassment and
uneasiness to a commander who had to drag with his army a huge train of
animals and vehicles filled with food. The enormous number of natives,
too, that accompanied the force, with their wives and families, exerted
its usual cumbrous effect on the movements of the troops; so that the
fighting-men themselves bore but a minute fractional ratio to the living
and dead accompaniments of the column. It is useless to complain of
this. An army of five thousand, or any other number, of British troops
_must_ have a large train of native attendants, to contend against the
peculiarities of Indian climate and Indian customs. Mr Russell, marching
with this portion of the late ‘Army of Oude,’ said: ‘If the people we
see around us, who are ten or twelve to one as compared with us in this
camp, were—not to arm and cut our throats, or poison us, or anything of
that kind—but simply bid us a silent good-bye this night, and leave us,
India would be lost to us in a day. It requires only that, and all the
power of England could not hold the eastern empire. We could not even
strike our tents without these men to-morrow. We are dependent on
them—even the common soldier is—for the water we drink and the meals we
eat, for our transport, for all but the air we breathe; and the latter,
it must be admitted, is not improved by them sometimes. The moment that
such a thing becomes possible as a popular desertion, through patriotic
or any other motives, from the service of the state, it becomes
impossible to hold India except upon sufferance. It is the rupee,
self-interest, and the necessities of a population trained to follow
camps, which afford guarantees against such a secession—unlikely enough
indeed in any nation, and scarcely possible in any war.... We are, in
fact, waging war against Hindoos and Mussulmans by the aid and with the
consent of other Hindoos and Mussulmans, just as Alexander was able to
beat Porus by the aid of his Indian allies; and no European or other
state can ever rule in India without the co-operation and assistance of
a large proportion of the races which inhabit the vast peninsula.’
Sir Colin marched on the 22d to Meerun-ke-serai, near the ruins of the
ancient city of Canouje; on the 23d to Gosaigunje; and on the 24th to
Kamalgunje—approaching each day nearer to Furruckabad. Every day’s
camping-ground was selected near the Ganges, both for the sake of
salubrity, and to check if possible the passage of rebel bands over the
river from Oude into the Doab. On the 25th the column reached
Furruckabad, or rather the adjacent English station of Futteghur.
General Penny came from a neighbouring district to confer with the
commander-in-chief on matters connected with the Rohilcund campaign, and
then returned to the column or brigade which he commanded. Futteghur had
regained a part of its former importance, as the place where most of the
artillery-carriages and sepoy-clothing were made, and where vast
quantities of timber and cloth had fallen as spoil to the enemy.
The sojourn at Futteghur was very brief. The electric telegraph had been
busy transmitting information to and from Allahabad; and as Sir Colin’s
plans were already made, he lost no time in putting them in execution.
The main plan comprised four movements—Campbell from Futteghur, Walpole
from Lucknow, Jones from Roorkee, and Penny from Puttealee; all intended
to hem the rebels into the middle of Rohilcund, and there crush them.
The marches of Walpole and Jones have already been noticed; Penny was to
march his column towards Meerunpore Muttra, between Shahjehanpoor and
Bareilly, after crossing the Ganges near Nudowlee; while the
commander-in-chief was to enter Rohilcund directly from Futteghur. In
the middle of the night between the 26th and 27th his column, elephants
and guns and all, crossed the Ganges by the bridge of boats, and entered
the province which was to be a scene of hostilities. After a few hours
the column reached the river Ramgunga, which it crossed by the bridge of
boats fortunately secured by Walpole as the fruit of his victory at
Allygunje; and soon afterwards the commander-in-chief effected a
junction with Walpole, at Tingree near the Ramgunga. No very long time
for repose was allowed; stern work was to be done, and the sooner
commenced, the less would it be checked by heat and prohibited by rains.
A march of a few hours brought the now united columns to Jelalabad—one
of many places of that name in India. It was a fort which had lately
been occupied by a small body of matchlockmen, who had precipitately
abandoned it when news of Sir Colin’s approach reached them. A small
village lay near, and was governed by the fort. The Moulvie of Fyzabad
was believed to have intended to make a stand at this place, but to have
abandoned it for a larger stronghold at Shahjehanpoor. On the 29th, a
further approach was made to Kanth. Each day was pretty well like that
which preceded it—the same early marching, camping, and resting, and the
same struggle with the camp-followers, who, however closely watched,
pertinaciously plundered the villages through or near which they
passed—thereby terrifying and exasperating all villagers alike, whether
friendly or unfriendly to the British. This system of plunder by the
camp-followers was one of the greatest troubles to which the generals of
the several columns were exposed; severe punishments were threatened,
but all in vain.
It was on the last day of the month that Sir Colin Campbell and General
Walpole arrived at Shahjehanpoor; and then it was to learn that the wily
and active Moulvie had again outmanœuvred them. The plan had been to
draw a cordon more and more closely round the rebels at Shahjehanpoor
and Bareilly, and thus to catch them as in a trap. But the Moulvie would
not enter the trap. He held Shahjehanpoor, with a considerable force of
men and guns, as long as he deemed it safe, and then escaped just at the
right moment. It was well to regain Shahjehanpoor, after that place had
been eleven months in the hands of rebels; but it was vexing to learn
that the Moulvie had retreated towards Oude—the very province where his
presence was least desired by the British. Nena Sahib, it was also
ascertained, had quitted Shahjehanpoor a few days earlier, and just
before leaving, had ordered the government buildings to be destroyed, in
order that the British troops might find no shelter when they arrived.
This cowardly, ruthless, but active and inventive chieftain succeeded in
his aim in this matter; there were few roofed buildings left, and the
encampment had to be effected under a tope of trees, with earthen
intrenchments thrown up around.
It is evident, from this summary of Rohilcund affairs, that the
operations against the rebels in that province did not advance far
during the month of April, as concerns any effective crushing of the
rebellion. The insurgents were beaten wherever met with; but their
ubiquity and vitality greatly puzzled Sir Colin and his brigadier; and
it remained to be seen how far the month of May would witness the
re-establishment of British authority in Rohilcund and Oude. Some of the
columns and field-forces had penetrated from the east and south as far
as Shahjehanpoor, others from the west and northwest as far as
Mooradabad; but Bareilly, the chief city in Rohilcund, had not been
reached by any of them at the end of April.
Few events caused more regret in the army at this period than the death
of Captain Sir William Peel, the gallant seaman who had earned so high a
reputation as commander of the Naval Brigade. After his wound, received
at Lucknow, he was carried in a doolie or litter to Cawnpore; and when
at that station he gradually became able to walk about slowly by the aid
of a stick. He soon, however, exhibited symptoms of small-pox, which,
acting on a system at once ardent and debilitated, proved fatal. He died
at Cawnpore after Sir Colin Campbell’s force had departed from that
place towards Futteghur; and thus the Queen and the country lost the
services of an eminent son of an eminent statesman. Every one felt the
justice of the special compliment paid to this gallant naval officer by
the governor-general, in the official order issued immediately on the
receipt of the news of Peel’s death.[168] Throughout the Crimean,
Persian, and Indian wars, the British navy had been engaged in less
fighting than many of its ardent members wished; and it was therefore
all the more incumbent on the authorities to notice the exertions of
naval brigades when on shore.
Throughout the extent of the Upper Doab, the British officers found much
difficulty in maintaining a fair stand against the rebels. Not that
there were large bodies of trained sepoys in the field, as in the
regions just described, and in Central India; but there were numerous
chieftains, each at the head of a small band of followers, ready to
harass any spot not protected by English troops. Brigadier Penny, in
command of a field-force organised at Delhi, was watching the district
between that city and the Ganges—ready to put down insurgents wherever
he could encounter them, and hoping to assist the commander-in-chief in
Rohilcund. Another column, under Brigadier Seaton, controlled the region
around Futteghur before Sir Colin reached that place; and he, like
Penny, Jones, Walpole, Hope Grant, Lugard, and all the other commanders
of sections of the army, found an active watchfulness of the enemy
necessary. One among Seaton’s engagements in the month of April may be
briefly noticed. On the 6th, when evening had darkened into night, he
marched from Futteghur to attack a body of rebels concerning whom he had
received information. He took with him about 1400 men—comprising 600 of
H.M. 82d under Colonel Hall, 400 Sikhs under Captain Stafford, 150
cavalry under Lieutenant St John, and 200 of the Futteghur
mounted-police battalion under Lieutenant de Kantzow—together with five
guns under Major Smith. After marching all night, Seaton came up with
the enemy at seven in the morning, at a place called Kankur. The enemy’s
force was very large, though not well organised, and included nearly a
thousand troopers well mounted and armed. After an artillery-fire on
both sides, and a sharp fire from Enfield rifles, the 82d rushed
forward, entered the village, and worked terrible execution. The rebels
fled, abandoning their camp, ammunition, and stores; together with
papers and correspondence which threw light on some of the hitherto
obscure proceedings of the mutineers. The rebel Rajah of Minpooree was
the chief leader of the insurgents, and with him were Ismael Khan and
Mohson Ali Khan.
The Minpooree district was much troubled by this rebellious rajah; but
as Futteghur on the one side, and Agra on the other, were now in English
hands, the rebels were more readily kept in subjection. Agra itself was
safe, and so was the main line of road thence through Muttra to Delhi.
One of the few pleasant scenes of the month, at Delhi, was the awarding
of honour and profit to a native who had befriended Europeans in the
hour of greatest need. Ten months before, when mutiny was still new and
terrible, the native troops at Bhurtpore rose in revolt, and compelled
the Europeans in the neighbourhood to flee for their lives. The poor
fugitives, thirty-two in number—chiefly women and children—roamed from
place to place, uncertain where they might sleep in peace. On one day
they arrived at the village of Mahonah. Here they met with one Hidayut
Ali, a ressaldar (troop-captain), of a regiment of irregular cavalry
which had mutinied at Mozuffernugger; he was on furlough or leave of
absence at his native village, and did not join his mutinous companions.
He received the fugitives with kindness and courtesy, fed them
liberally, gave them a comfortable house, renewed their toil-worn
garments, posted village sentries to give notice of the approach of any
mutineers, disregarded a rebuke sent to him by the insurgents at Delhi,
formed the villagers into an escort, and finally placed the thirty-two
fugitives in a position which enabled them safely to reach Agra. This
noble conduct was not forgotten. In April the commissioner held a grand
durbar at Delhi, made a complimentary speech to Hidayut Ali, presented
him with a sword valued at a thousand rupees, and announced that the
government intended to bestow upon him the jaghire or revenues of his
native village.
Good-fortune continued to mark the wide and important region of the
Punjaub, in the absence of any of those great assemblages of rebels
which so distracted the provinces further to the southeast. Nevertheless
Sir John Lawrence found a demand on him for unceasing watchfulness. The
longer the struggle continued in Hindostan and Central India, the more
danger was there that the Punjaubees, imbibing an idea that the British
were weak, would encourage a hope of regaining national independence.
There was also a grave question involved in the constitution of the
native army. When the troubles began in the month of May, and when
Canning was beset with so many difficulties in his attempt to send up
troops from Calcutta, John Lawrence came to the rescue in a manner
deserving the lasting gratitude of all concerned in the maintenance of
British rule in India. He felt a trusty reliance that the inhabitants of
the Punjaub, governed as he (aided by Montgomery, Cotton, Edwardes, and
other energetic men) had governed them, would remain faithful, and would
be willing to accept active service as soldiers in British pay. His
trust was well founded. He sent to Delhi those troops, without which the
conquest of the city could not have been effected; and he continued to
raise regiment after regiment of Sikhs and Punjaubees—equipping,
drilling, and paying a number so large as to constitute in itself a
powerful army. But there would necessarily be a limit to this process.
The Sikhs were faithful so far; but what if they should begin to feel
their power, and turn to a national object the arms which had been given
to them to fight in the British cause? Not many years had elapsed since
they had fought fiercely at Moultan and Lahore, Sobraon and
Chillianwalla, Moodkee and Ferozshah, against those very English whom
they were now defending; and it was at least possible, if not probable,
that dreams of reconquest might occupy their thoughts. Sir John Lawrence
brought to an end his further raising of regiments; and there can be
little doubt that the governor-general and the commander-in-chief
appreciated the motives by which he had been influenced. In political
affairs the Punjaub was very active; for not only did Lawrence become
chief authority over a larger region than before, but many of his
assistants were taken away from him. When Sir James Outram went to
Calcutta as a member of the supreme council, Mr Montgomery was appointed
chief-commissioner of Oude, and took with him many of the most
experienced civilians from Lahore to Lucknow. This necessitated great
changes in the _personnel_ of the Punjaub civil service, the
commissionerships and sub-commissionerships of districts, &c.
Peshawur, the most remote portion of Northwest India, was throughout the
period of the Revolt more troubled by marauding mountaineers than by
revolted sepoys. Very few Hindoos inhabited that region; the population
was mostly Mussulman, especially among the hills; and these followers of
Islam had but little sympathy with those in Hindostan Proper. The
disturbances, such as they were, were of local character. In April, it
became necessary to visit with some severity certain tribes which
throughout the winter had been engaged in rebellion and rapine. General
Cotton and Colonel Edwardes, two of the most trusted officers in the
Indian army, collected a column at Nowsherah for service against the
hill-men; and at the close of the month there were nearly four thousand
men in rendezvous, ready for service. It comprised detachments of H.M.
81st and 98th foot; of the 8th, 9th, and 18th Punjaub infantry; of other
native infantry; of the 7th and 18th irregular cavalry; of the Guide
cavalry; and of various artillery and engineer corps. On the 28th of the
month, Cotton was at a place among the hills called Mungultana, a
stronghold of some of the frontier fanatics. The place was easily taken,
and the insurgents dispersed; as they were at Jelemkhana, Sitana, and
other places, soon afterwards; but it was hard work for the troops, over
very bad roadless tracks in hot weather.
[Illustration:
Fort of Peshawur.
]
It was a strange but hopeful sign that, amid all the sanguinary
proceedings in India—the ruthless barbarities of some among the sepoys
and rebels, and the military retributions wrought by the British—amid
all this, the peaceful, civilising agency of railways was steadily
though slowly advancing. A recent chapter shewed that the grand
trunk-railway was extended into the Doab, the very hot-bed of
insurrection, during the month of March: the engineers, mechanics, and
labourers having been accustomed to resume their operations as soon as
the insurgents were driven away from any spot where the works were in
progress. In the Madras and Bombay presidencies, little affected by
rebellion, various railways were gradually advancing; and now, in the
month of April, the province of Sinde was to have its heyday of railway
rejoicing. In an earlier portion of the volume,[169] a brief account was
given of the schemes, present and prospective, for supplying India with
railways. Among those was one for a line, 120 miles in length, from
Kurachee to Hydrabad in Sinde: expected, if no difficulties intervened,
to be finished towards the close of 1859. This was to be one link in a
vast and extensive chain, if the hopes of its projectors were ever
realised. Kurachee is not at the mouth of the Indus; but it has an
excellent harbour, in which large merchantmen can cast anchor; and
engineers were enabled to shew that a little over one hundred miles of
railway would connect this port with the Indus at a point above the
delta of that river, and just where Hydrabad, the chief city of Sinde,
is situated. Such a railway would, in fact, bear a remarkably close
analogy to that in Egypt, from Alexandria to Cairo—each connecting a
seaport with a capital, and avoiding delta navigation much impeded by
shallows and shifting sands. From Hydrabad there are 570 miles of Indus
available for river-steaming up to Moultan, in the Punjaub. From that
city a railway would be planned through Lahore to Umritsir, where a
junction would be formed with the grand trunk-line, and thus Kurachee
connected with Calcutta by rapid means of travel—a great scheme, worthy
of the age and the country. It could, however, only have small
beginnings. On the 29th of April, the first sod of the ‘Sinde Railway’
was turned at Kurachee. It would be well if all rejoicings were based on
such rational grounds as those which marked that day in the young
Alexandria of Western India. Mr Frere, commissioner of Sinde, presided
over the ceremonies. All was gaiety. The 51st regiment lent its aid in
military pomp; and all the notabilities of the place—political,
military, naval, clerical, commercial, and engineering—were gathered
together. And not only so; but the lookers-on comprised many of those
who well marvelled what a railway could be, and how a carriage could
move without visible means of draught or propulsion—Parsees, Hindoos,
Beloochees, Sindians, Afghans, Punjaubees—all were there, with their
picturesque garments, and their little less picturesque native vehicles.
How the officiating dignitary turned the sod and wheeled the barrow; how
the band played and the people cheered; how the chief personages
celebrated the event by a dinner; how, at that dinner, a triumphant
specimen of confectionary was displayed, comprising sweetmeat Kurachees,
Calcuttas, rivers, mosques, ghats, temples, wheelbarrows, pick-axes,
rails, locomotives, bridges, tunnels—need not be told: they belong to
one remarkable aspect of modern European and American society, which
becomes doubly interesting when exhibited among the less active, more
sensuous orientals.
We now turn to that stormy, unsettled region southwest of the Jumna,
comprising Bundelcund, Central India, and Rajpootana.
Probably no commander had a series of more uninterrupted successes
during the wars of the mutiny than Sir Hugh Rose. Looking neither to
Calcutta nor to the Punjaub, for aid, but relying on the resources of
the Bombay presidency, he gradually accumulated a force for service in
Central India which defeated the rebels wherever they were met with. We
have seen that, in January, Sir Hugh was busily engaged in defeating and
dispersing rebels at Ratgurh, and in various parts of the district
between Bhopal and Saugor. We find him in February relieving the British
garrison which had for so many months been shut up within the fort of
the last-named city, and then clearing a vast range of country in the
direction of Jhansi. Lastly, we have seen how, after subduing a district
in which rebellious Mahrattas were very numerous, he approached nearer
and nearer to Jhansi during the early weeks of March; that he arrived
within a short distance of that city on the 21st of that month, with the
second brigade of the Central India field-force; that the rebels
fortified the walls of the town, and shut themselves up within the town
and fort; that the mutinied sepoys and rebel Bundelas in the place were
computed at eleven or twelve thousand; that the Ranee of Jhansi had left
her palace to seek greater safety in the fort; that Rose’s first brigade
joined him on the 25th; and that he then commenced the siege in a
determined manner. From this point, the narrative of Sir Hugh’s
operations may be carried into the following month.
Before the first week in April had terminated, this distinguished
general had gained very considerable advantages over the enemy. At
daybreak on the first of the month, his force encountered an army of the
enemy outside the walls of Jhansi, and completely defeated them. The
rebels were commanded by a Mahratta chieftain, Tanteea Topee, a relative
of Nena Sahib, who had marched thither in the hope of being able to
relieve his brother rebels shut up within the beleaguered city. Sir Hugh
divided his force into two parts—one to continue the siege, and the
other to meet Tanteea Topee in the field. The rebels, including among
their number two regiments of the traitorous Gwalior Contingent, fought
desperately; but Rose succeeded in turning their left flank with
artillery and cavalry, breaking up their array, and putting them to
flight. It was a severe contest, for the rebels defended themselves
individually to the last, even when their order of battle was broken.
Rose pursued them to the river Betwah, and captured all their guns and
ammunition. During the pursuit, they endeavoured to check him by setting
the jungle on fire; but his cavalry and horse-artillery, nothing
daunted, galloped through the flames, and kept close at the heels of the
fugitives. The whole line of retreat became strewed with dead bodies;
and it was estimated that the day’s sanguinary work had cost the enemy
not less than fifteen hundred men.
This battle was followed by a result more favourable than Sir Hugh had
ventured to hope. The ranee, shut up within Jhansi, well knew that
Tanteea Topee was hastening to her assistance; for there was everywhere
an intercommunication between the insurgents too close for the British
to baffle. She knew of his approach, and hoped that he would be able to
defeat and drive away the besiegers; but the battle of the Betwah
dismayed her, and the result was very favourable to the British. In
arranging for the siege, Sir Hugh divided his infantry into four
detachments, two on the right and two on the left. H.M. 86th, and the
25th Bombay infantry, soon gained the walls, some by breach and others
by escalade. Lieutenant Dartnell of the 86th, who was foremost in the
assault, narrowly escaped being cut to pieces directly he entered the
place. These two regiments were on the left attack. The attack on the
right was less successful, owing to the use of defective ladders; the
troops were for some time exposed to a murderous fire; but at length
they entered the place, and joined their companions near the ranee’s
palace. A discovery was now made. The ranee had evacuated the place
during the night, with such of her troops as could break through the
cordon which Rose endeavoured to draw round Jhansi. In the endeavour of
the garrison to escape, the slaughter was terrible; insomuch that,
during the storming of the fort and the pursuit of the garrison, more
than three thousand of the rebels were laid low, besides the fifteen
hundred during the battle. Much of this slaughter was within the city
itself; for the towns-people were believed to have favoured the rebels,
and the soldiers took severe vengeance before their officers could check
the bloodshed. All this stern fighting could not be carried on without
loss on the part of the British. Sir Hugh had to lament the fall of
Lieutenant-colonel Turnbull, Captain Sinclair, Lieutenants Meicklejohn
and Park, and Dr Stack, besides a number of non-commissioned officers
and privates. The evacuation of the place in so sudden a way greatly
lessened his chance of loss, for its defence might have been long
continued. ‘Jhansi,’ he said in his telegraphic dispatch, ‘is not a
fort, but its strength makes it a fortress; it could not have been
breached; it could only have been taken by mining and blowing up one
bastion after another.’
After this signal defeat of the rebels at Jhansi, the victorious army of
Sir Hugh gradually prepared to move towards Calpee, a town on the Jumna,
on the line of road from Jhansi to Cawnpore. Symptoms appeared to shew
that a struggle would take place at this spot. Two rebel leaders made
renewed exertions to regain lost ground in that region. The chief of
these was Tanteea Topee, lately defeated at Jhansi; he had with him two
mutinied infantry regiments, seven hundred cavalry, a large following of
Ghazees or fanatics, and twelve guns. The other was Ram Rao Gobind, who
had the command of three thousand rabble and four guns. These two
leaders resolved to act on some common plan; and Sir Hugh Rose equally
resolved to defeat them. Nevertheless this gallant officer had much need
for careful planning long after he was master of Jhansi. He had a large
number of sick and wounded, whose safety it would be necessary to
provide for; and the roads around that city were still infested with
remnants of the Kotah rebels and the Chanderee garrison. He himself
remained at Jhansi until such time as he could resume his march without
danger to those left behind; but he gave active employment to portions
of his force. About the middle of the month he sent Major Orr with a
column from Jhansi across the Betwah to Mhow, to clear that part of the
country of rebels, and afterwards to join Rose and the main body of the
force on the road to Calpee; the major had many small encounters with
the rajahs of Bampore and Shagurh, and with detached parties of rebels.
Some days afterwards, on the 21st, Sir Hugh despatched Major Gall, with
detachments of cavalry and artillery, to a point on the Calpee road, to
watch the enemy and aid Major Orr if necessary. Gall, besides other
minor engagements, captured a fort belonging to the Rajah of Sumpter;
the rebels in it proved to be disguised mutineers of the 12th Bengal
native infantry, who fought desperately until all were killed. Sir Hugh,
with his first brigade and head-quarters, did not take his departure
from Jhansi until the 25th. He marched ten miles that day to Boregaum,
on the Calpee road, and resumed his progress on subsequent days. His
second brigade was soon to follow him—with the exception of detachments
of the 3d Bombay Europeans, the 24th Bombay native infantry, and
artillery, left under the charge of Colonel Liddell to protect Jhansi
and the sick and wounded. Rumours reached Sir Hugh that four of the
rebel leaders—the Ranee of Jhansi, Tanteea Topee, the Rajah of Shagurh,
and the Rajah of Bampore—with seven thousand men and four guns, intended
if possible to intercept him, and prevent his march to Calpee. To what
result all these manœuvres on both sides led, was left to the month of
May to determine.
While these operations were going on in and near the Jhansi district,
General Whitlock, with a column of Madras troops, was engaged a little
further eastward, in a district of Bundelcund having Banda for its chief
town. He was frequently in contact with large or small bodies of rebels.
One of these struggles took place on the 19th of April, when he
encountered a force of seven thousand insurgents headed by the Nawab of
Banda. Whitlock defeated the Nawab, captured Banda, killed five hundred
of the enemy, and took several guns. After this victory, he gradually
worked his way towards Calpee, to aid in Rose’s operations.
The city of Saugor remained in a somewhat peculiar condition during the
spring months—secure itself, but surrounded by a disturbed district. The
European residents were living in cantonments, sufficiently protected by
troops left there by General Whitlock after he relieved the place early
in February. These troops were neither stationary nor idle; the vicinity
was swarming with rebels and malcontents, whom it was necessary to check
by frequent pursuit and defeat. Those two exceptions to the generally
mutinous condition of the Bengal native army, the 31st and 42d
regiments, still remained in and near Saugor—or such portions of them as
had not become tainted by insubordination. Divided into small
detachments, they assisted the European and Madras troops in keeping
open the line of communication between Saugor and the district marked by
the victorious operations of Sir Hugh Rose.
Turning to the Mahratta and Rajpootana states, we find that, on the 2d
of April, a large body of rebels, many thousands in number, with ten
guns, crossed the Parbuttee river at Copoind into Scindia’s Gwalior
territory. They were fleeing from Kotah, where a British force had
severely handled them. Scindia still remained true to his alliance. Many
of his officers, each with a small force, opposed the rebels at
different points, drove them back across the river, and overturned many
of their guns and wagons in the stream. The rebels, accompanied by large
numbers of women and children, made their way by other routes towards
Bundelcund.
Kotah, just mentioned, was closely connected with the insurgent and
military operations in Rajpootana. It will be remembered[170] that in
the month of March General Roberts, commanding the Rajpootana
field-force, marched from Nuseerabad towards Kotah, accompanied by
Richard Lawrence as political representative; that many difficulties had
to be surmounted on the march; that Kotah was reached on the 22d; and
that Roberts captured that place just before the end of the month,
defeating a large body of rebels, and obtaining possession of an
extensive store of ordnance and ammunition. After this victory, Roberts
remained a long time at Kotah. Many other places would have welcomed his
appearance; but there were doubts how far Kotah could safely be left,
seeing that the neighbourhood was in a very disaffected state. The Kotah
rebels, on the other hand, were greatly disconcerted at the news of the
fall of Jhansi, which interfered with their plans and hopes. They had
been camping for a while at Kularus, on the road from Gwalior to Bombay,
but began now to move off towards the south. Captain Mayne, with some of
Scindia’s troops, was at that place on the 11th of April, and found that
the Kotah rebels, about four thousand strong, with six guns, had joined
the rebel Rajah of Nirwur, six miles distant. Captain Mayne was
preparing to watch and follow them, but the troops at his command
consisted of only a few hundred men, and he could do little more than
reconnoitre. Later in the month, General Roberts organised a column to
look after the rebels at Goonah, Chupra, and other places. The column
consisted of H.M. 95th foot, the 10th Bombay native infantry, a wing of
the 8th hussars, a wing of the 1st lancers, and a troop of
horse-artillery; and it started from Kotah for active service on the
24th. Thus the month of April passed away; Roberts himself remaining at
Kotah; while some of his officers, each with a detachment of the
Rajpootana field-force, were engaged in chastising bodies of rebels in
the turbulent region on the border of the Rajpoot and Mahratta
territories. Like Sir Hugh Rose at Jhansi, he had to consider how his
conquered city would fare if he quitted it.
The province of Gujerat, lying as it does between Rajpootana and Bombay,
was narrowly watched by the government of that presidency; and as one
precaution, all the inhabitants were disarmed. On the 8th of April, a
field-force, comprising about a thousand men of all arms, left Ahmedabad
to conduct the disarming. Another column of about the same strength was
preparing to march from the same station about a week later. It was
expected that the difficulties of the troops would arise, not so much
from the opposition of the natives, as from the gradually increasing
heat of the weather.
Southward of Bombay there was still, as in the earlier months of the
year, just so much of insubordination as to need careful watching on the
part of the government, but without presenting any very alarming
symptoms. The small Mahratta state of Satara was a little troubled. Two
officers of the recently deposed rajah, his commander-in-chief and his
commandant of artillery, were detected in treasonable correspondence
with Nena Sahib. One of them, having been found guilty, was sentenced to
be hanged; the indignity struck with horror one imbued with high-caste
notions, and he asked to be blown away from a gun as a more noble death;
this was refused; and under the influence of dismay and grief, he made a
confession which afforded a clue to a further conspiracy. There was much
in these southern Mahrattas which puzzled the authorities. To what
extent the natives were bound into a brotherhood by secret compact, the
English never could and never did know. Much comment was excited by an
occurrence at Kolapore, where two native officers were blown away from
guns, on conviction of being concerned in the mutiny and rebellion. It
was remembered that those very men had sat on courts-martial which
condemned numbers of their fellow-mutineers to the same punishment which
was their own ultimate doom. One of the principal witnesses against them
was a colleague whom they had sentenced to death, but who escaped by
making a confession which implicated them. Many others, however,
condemned by the court of which these two men were members, died without
making a similar confession, although it was believed that they also
might have implicated their judges.
Note.
_Native Police of India._—So peculiar was the position of the native
police of India—as a medium between the military and the civilians,
and between the government and the people—that it may be desirable
to say a few words on the organisation of that body. All parties
agreed that this organisation was defective in many points, and
numerous reforms were suggested; but the Revolt found the police
system still in force unreformed. The information here given is
obtained chiefly from a dispatch sent from the India House about six
months before the Revolt began, at a time when few or none saw the
dark shadow that was hovering over our eastern empire.
In Bengal, each district was subdivided into smaller jurisdictions,
each having its local police. The police were charged with duties
both preventive and detective. They were prohibited from inquiring
into cases of a petty nature; but complaints in cases of a more
serious character were usually laid before the police
_darogah_—whose duties were something more than those of an English
police superintendent, something less than those of an English
magistrate. The darogah was authorised to examine the complaints
brought before him, to issue process of arrest, to summon witnesses,
to examine the accused, and to forward the case to the magistrate or
collector-magistrate, or submit a report of his proceedings,
according as the evidence seemed to warrant the one or the other
course.
In the Northwest Provinces the native revenue-officers called
_tehsildars_ were, at the discretion of the government, invested
with the powers of police darogahs; whereas in Bengal the revenue
service was kept wholly distinct from the police or magisterial.
In the Madras presidency, the duties ordinarily performed in Bengal
by the police darogahs were, even more generally than in the
Northwest Provinces, performed by the tehsildar; indeed it was a
recognised part of the system that the tehsildar and the darogah
were the same person. This double function carried with it an
increase of power. The Madras tehsildar-darogah was authorised, not
only to inquire into petty cases (which the Bengal darogah was
prohibited from doing), but also to proceed in certain specified
instances to judgment, sentence, and the infliction of punishment.
In the Bombay presidency, the revenue and police functions were,
until a recent period, combined in the same way as in Madras. The
tehsildars, besides their revenue duties, were authorised in their
police capacity to investigate all complaints of a criminal nature,
and to exercise a penal jurisdiction in respect of certain petty
offences. Within a few months before the Revolt, however, a change
was made in the organisation. A new officer, a superintendent of
police, was placed under the magistrate. The magistrate, confining
himself for the most part to judicial and administrative matters,
left to his superintendent of police the control of the executive
police and the command of the entire stipendiary body, with the
initiative in the prevention and detection of crime. To aid this
superintendent in the supervision of the district police, there was
placed in each police division an officer called joint-police
_amildar_; whose duties, in regard to the preservation of the public
peace and the investigation of serious crimes, were nearly similar
to those of the Bengal darogah, but without including any power of
punishing even for the most trivial offences.
It thus appears that, apart from the penal powers exercised by the
Madras district police, the Bengal _darogah_, the Madras
_tehsildar_, and the Bombay _amildar_, all acted to a certain extent
judicially when engaged in investigating crimes of a serious nature.
They examined the parties and the evidence, and they formed a
judgment on the case to the extent of deciding whether it was one
for the immediate arrest of the accused and transmission to the
magistrate, or otherwise.
No doubt the founders of this police system anticipated beneficial
results from it; but those results were not obtained. It was very
inefficient for the detection of crime, and almost useless for
prevention. There were defects both in organisation and in
procedure. The police force attached to each division was too much
localised and isolated; and the notion of combination between any
separate parts of it, with a view of accomplishing extensive police
objects, was seldom entertained. Although unable to check crime to
the extent intended and hoped for, the police were very unscrupulous
in their mode of wielding their authority, and bore a very general
character for oppression and corruption. The great source of
mischief was found to be, the want of efficient control and
overlooking. The native police had a proneness to oriental modes of
administering justice, in which bribery and barbarity perform a
great part: this tendency required to be constantly checked by
Europeans; and if the magistrate or collector-magistrate found his
time too fully occupied to exercise this supervision, the police
wrought much mischief, and brought the English ‘raj’ into disfavour.
Where the district was smaller than usual, or where the magistrate
was more than commonly zealous and active, the police were found to
be more efficient through more supervision. Whenever it was found
necessary to grapple effectually with any particular crimes, such as
_thuggee_ or _dacoitee_, the ordinary police proved to be wholly
useless; an entirely separate instrumentality was needed. Besides
the want of effective supervision, the native police were underpaid,
and had therefore an excuse for listening to the temptations of
bribery.
In the dispatch already adverted to, written by the Court of
Directors, a course of improvement was pointed out, without which
the native police, it was affirmed, could not rise to the proper
degree of efficiency. The suggestions were briefly as follows: To
separate the police from the administration of the land-revenue, in
those provinces where those duties had been customarily united; in
order that the native officer should not be intrusted with double
functions, each of which would interfere with the other. To subject
all the police to frequent visit and inspection, that they might
feel the influence of a vigilant eye over them. To relieve the
collector-magistrate from this addition to his many duties, by
appointing in each district a European officer with no other duty
than that of managing the police of the district, subject to a
general superintendent of police for each presidency. To increase
the salaries of the police, in order that the office might have a
higher dignity in the estimation of the natives, and in order that
the official might be less tempted to extortion or bribery. To
empower the authorities to punish and degrade, more readily than was
before possible, those police who oppressed the people or otherwise
displayed injustice; and to reward those who displayed more than
ordinary intelligence and honesty, a further suggestion was made,
arising out of the organisation of the Punjaub under the Lawrences
and their coadjutors; in which there was a preventive police with a
military organisation, and a wholly distinct detective police with a
civil organisation. This system was found to work so well, that the
Court of Directors submitted to the Calcutta government an inquiry
whether the police generally might not with advantage be thus
separated into two parts, preventive and detective, each exercised
by a different set of men.
The Revolt broke out before the reform of the police system could
commence; and then, like other reforms, it was left to be settled in
more peaceful days.
[Illustration]
-----
Footnote 165:
The following will give an idea of the mode in which the _Gazette_
announcements were made: ‘24th Bombay N. I.—Lieutenant William
Alexander Kerr; date of act of bravery, July 10, 1857.—On the breaking
out of a mutiny in the 27th Bombay N. I. in July 1857, a party of the
mutineers took up a position in the stronghold or _paga_ near the town
of Kolapore, and defended themselves to extremity. “Lieutenant Kerr,
of the Southern Mahratta Irregular Horse, took a prominent share in
the attack on the position; and at the moment when its capture was of
great public importance, he made a dash at one of the gateways, with
some dismounted horsemen, and forced an entrance by breaking down the
gate. The attack was completely successful, and the defenders were
either killed, wounded, or captured—a result that may with perfect
justice be attributed to Lieutenant Kerr’s dashing and devoted
bravery.” (Letter from the Political Superintendent at Kolapore to the
Adjutant-general of the Army, dated September 10, 1857.)’
Footnote 166:
‘Of the dust it is quite beyond the powers of writing to give a
description. It is so fine and subtle, that long after the causes
which raised it have ceased to exert their influence, you may see it
like a veil of gauze between your eyes and every object. The sun,
while yet six or seven degrees above the horizon, is hid from sight by
it as though the luminary were enveloped in a thick fog; and at early
morning and evening, this vapour of dust suspended high in air seems
like a rain-cloud clinging to a hillside. When this dust is set
rapidly in motion by a hot wind, and when the grosser sand, composed
of minute fragments of talc, scales of mica, and earth, is impelled in
quick successive waves through the heated atmosphere, the effect is
quite sufficient to make one detest India for ever. Every article in
your tent, your hair, eyes, and nose, are filled and covered with this
dust, which deposits a coating half an inch thick all over the
tent.’—W. H. RUSSELL.
Footnote 167:
It may here be remarked that the difficulty of moving heavy ordnance
over the bad roads and roadless tracts of India, painfully felt by the
artillery officers engaged in the war, suggested to the East India
Company an inquiry into the possibility of employing locomotives for
such a purpose. A machine, called ‘Boydell’s Traction Engine,’
patented some time before in England, was tested with a view to
ascertain the degree of its availability for this purpose. The
peculiarity of this engine was, that it was a locomotive _carrying its
own railway_. Six flat boards were ranged round each of the great
wheels in such a way that each board came in succession _under_ the
wheel, and formed, for a few feet, a flat plankroad or tramway for the
wheel to roll upon. It was supposed that the vehicle would move much
more easily by this contrivance, than if the narrow periphery of the
wheel ran upon soft mud or irregular pebbles and gravel. The motion of
the wheel placed each plank down at its proper time and place, and
lifted it up again, in such a way that there was always one of the
boards flat on the ground, beneath the wheel. Colonel Sir Frederick
Abbott and Colonel Sir Proby Cautley, on the part of the directors,
tested this machine at Woolwich—where it drew forty tons of ordnance
along a common road, uphill as well as upon the level. Another
road-locomotive, by Messrs Napier, was tested for a similar purpose.
The results were of good augury for the future; but the machines were
not perfected early enough to be made applicable for the wars of the
mutiny.
Footnote 168:
‘_Allahabad, April 30._—It is the melancholy duty of the Right
Honourable the Governor-general to announce the death of that most
distinguished officer, Captain Sir William Peel, K.C.B., late in
command of her Majesty’s ship _Shannon_, and of the Naval Brigade in
the Northwest Provinces.
‘Sir William Peel died at Cawnpore, on the 27th instant, of small-pox.
He had been wounded at the commencement of the last advance upon
Lucknow, but had nearly recovered from the wound, and was on his way
to Calcutta, when struck by the disease which has brought his
honourable career to an early close.
‘Sir William Peel’s services in the field during the last seven months
are well known in India and in England. But it is not so well known
how great the value of his presence and example has been wherever
during this eventful period his duty has led him.
‘The loss of his daring but thoughtful courage, joined with eminent
abilities, is a very heavy one to his country; but it is not more to
be deplored than the loss of that influence which his earnest
character, admirable temper, and gentle kindly bearing exercised over
all within his reach—an influence which was exerted unceasingly for
the public good, and of which the governor-general believes that it
may with truth be said that there is not a man of any rank or
profession who, having been associated with Sir William Peel in these
times of anxiety and danger, has not felt and acknowledged it.’
Footnote 169:
Chap. vii., NOTES, p. 119.
Footnote 170:
Chap. xxvi., p. 441.
[Illustration:
Summer Costumes, Indian Army.
]
CHAPTER XXIX.
PROGRESS OF EVENTS IN MAY.
When, on the 10th of May 1858, the course of twelve months had been
completed since the commencement of the mutiny, the nation looked back
at the events of that period as a terrible episode in the history of
British dominion. Into how many thousands of families mourning had been
introduced by it, no one correctly knew; the problem was a dismal one,
which few had the heart to investigate. Those who, not affected by
private grief, or hiding their grief in a sense of public duty, viewed
the twelvemonth’s conflict in a national sense, saw in it a mingled
cause for humiliation and pride—humiliation that British rule should be
so trampled on by those who had been long and peacefully under it; pride
that so many public servants, so many private persons, should have
proved worthy of their country in a time of severe and bitter trial. In
military matters, the once great Bengal native army had almost ceased to
exist. Twenty thousand disarmed sepoys were in and near the Punjaub,
carefully watched lest they should join the ranks of the insurgents;
disarmed regiments were similarly detained elsewhere; others had been
almost annihilated by twelve months of fierce warfare; others were still
engaged as the nuclei of rebel armies; while the number of Bengal sepoys
was very small indeed, reckoned by hundreds rather than thousands, who
still fought faithfully on the side of the British. The Madras and
Bombay troops had, happily for India and England’s interest therein,
remained almost wholly ‘true to their salt;’ enabling the governors of
those two presidencies to send gallant field-forces into the disturbed
northern and central provinces. Sikhs, Punjaubees, Moultanese,
Scindians, Beloochees, and hill-men on the Afghan frontier, had rendered
services of such lasting importance in Hindostan, that they may almost
be regarded as the preservers of the English ‘raj;’ this they had been
enabled to do from two causes—the want of sympathy between the mutineers
and those northwestern tribes; and the admirable system of Punjaub
government organised by the Lawrences. In civil matters, India had
witnessed the almost total breaking up of the ordinary revenue and
magisterial arrangements, in provinces containing at least fifty
millions of souls; Europeans driven into hiding-places, even if not
murdered; and treasuries plundered by bands of ruffians, who gladly
hailed the state of anarchy brought on by the mutiny of the sepoy
regiments. Among the superior members of the government, Viscount
Canning still maintained his position, battling against unnumbered
difficulties; Sir Colin Campbell still remained at the head of the army,
well aware that his utmost skill as a military commander would long be
needed; and Sir John Lawrence still held the Punjaub in his wonderful
grasp, displaying governing powers of the very highest order at an
eminently critical time. On the other hand, the Anglo-Indians had to
mourn over a sad death-list. Henry Lawrence, Havelock, Colvin, Neill,
Venables, Nicholson, William Peel, Adrian Hope, Wheeler, Barnard, Banks,
Battye—all, and a vast many more gallant spirits, had sunk under the
terrible pressure of the past twelve months.
Appropriating the present chapter to a rapid glance at the progress of
events in the month of May, and beginning (as usual) with the Bengal
regions, we may conveniently notice two or three arrangements made by
the Calcutta government, bearing relation either to the state of the
army, or to the condition of civilians affected by the mutiny.
Among the earliest measures taken to reconstruct the Bengal army, so
shattered by the mutiny, was one announced in a government notification
on the 7th of May. It was to the effect that four regiments of Bengal
_European_ cavalry should be formed, in lieu of eight regiments of
Bengal _native_ cavalry, erased from the list of the establishment for
mutinous conduct. Each regiment was to consist of 1 colonel, 2
lieutenant-colonels, 2 majors, 14 captains, 18 lieutenants, 8 cornets, 1
adjutant, 1 interpreter and quartermaster, 4 surgeons and assistants,
119 non-commissioned and subordinate officers of various kinds, and 700
privates; making a total of 870—an unusually large number for a cavalry
regiment. In addition to these, there were to be native syces,
grass-cutters, and quarter-masters, attached to each regiment; and
various persons employed at the depôt. The pay was to be the same as in
the royal dragoon regiments. Each regiment was to be divided into ten
troops. As the officers were to be about doubly as numerous as the
English officers in the disbanded native regiments, it was calculated
that the four new would absorb the officers of eight old regiments. The
regiments thus extinguished by this first process, were the 1st, 2d, 3d,
4th, 6th, 7th, 9th, and 10th Bengal native cavalry; the 5th and the 8th
were left to be dealt with at some subsequent period. As for any larger
measures connected with the reconstruction of a _native_ Bengal army,
these were left for determination at a later period, after collating the
opinions of the most experienced authorities in India.
The distress experienced by the British troops from the intense heat of
the Indian sun, and the severe strictures passed by the press and by
members of the legislature on those regimental officers who permitted or
compelled their soldiers to swelter in red cloth, led to the issuing of
orders concerning light summer clothing. It was found that a kind of
gray or dust-coloured linen called _khakee_ or _carkey_ was better
suited than anything else—even white—as a material for clothing in the
hot season; and hence the issuing of an order by the adjutant-general,
on the 21st of May, to the effect noted below.[171] This question
concerning appropriate clothing had long been discussed by military men
in India: the officers of greatest experience being those who most
disapproved the wearing of closely fitting garments in such a climate.
General Jacob had resolutely contended against the adoption of English
uniforms by the sepoys of the Company’s army. He said: ‘A sepoy of the
line, dressed in a tight coat; trousers in which he can scarcely walk,
and cannot stoop at all; bound to an immense and totally useless
knapsack, so that he can scarcely breathe; strapped, belted, and
pipe-clayed within an inch of his life; with a rigid basket-shako on his
head, which requires the skill of a juggler to balance, and which cuts
deep into his brow if worn for an hour; and with a leather-stock round
his neck, to complete his absurd costume—when compared with the same
sepoy, clothed, armed, and accoutred solely with regard to his comfort
and efficiency—forms the most perfect example of what is madly called
the “regular” system with many European officers, contrasted with the
system of common sense now recommended for adoption.’ The graphic
description by Mr Russell, of the officers and men in Sir Colin
Campbell’s army of Oude, shews how eager soldiers are to get rid of
their irksome uniforms when permitted, under the influence of a heat
denoted by the cabalistic mark 100° F. or 110° F.: ‘Except the
Highlanders—and when they left Lucknow they were panting for their
summer clothes, and had sent officers to Cawnpore to hurry them—not a
corps that I have seen sport a morsel of pink or shew a fragment of
English scarlet. The Highlanders wear eccentric shades of gray linen
over their bonnets—the kilt is discarded, or worn out in some regiments;
and flies, mosquitoes, and the sun are fast rendering it impossible in
the others. Already many officers who can get trews have discarded the
ponderous folds of woollen stuff tucked into massive wads over the hips,
and have provided some defence against the baking of their calves by
day, and have sought to protect their persons against the assaults of
innumerable entomological enemies by night. The artillery had been
furnished with excellent head-covers and good frocks of light stuff....
The 7th Hussars, the Military Train, have vestiary idiosyncrasies of
their own; but there is some sort of uniformity among the men. Among the
officers, individual taste and fantasy have full play. The infantry
regiments, for the most part, are dressed in linen frocks, dyed carkey
or gray slate-colour—slate-blue trousers, and shakos protected by
puggerees, or linen covers, from the sun. The peculiarity of carkey is
that the dyer seems to be unable to match it in any two pieces, and that
it exhibits endless varieties of shade, varying with every washing, so
that the effect is rather various than pleasing on the march or on the
parade-ground. But the officers, as I have said, do not confine
themselves to carkey or anything else. It is really wonderful what
fecundity of invention in dress there is, after all, in the British mind
when its talents can be properly developed. To begin with the
head-dress. The favourite wear is a helmet of varying shape, but of
uniform ugliness.... Whatever it might be in polished steel or burnished
metal, the helmet is a decided failure in felt, or wicker-work, or pith,
so far as external effect is concerned. It is variously fabricated, with
many varieties of interior ducts and passages leading to escape-holes
for imaginary hot air in the front or top, and around it are twisted
infinite colours and forms of turbans with fringed ends and laced
fringes. When a peacock’s feather, with the iris end displayed, is
inserted in the hole in the top of the helmet, or is stuck in the
puggeree around it, the effect of the covering is much enhanced; and
this style is rather patronised by some of the staff. The coat may be of
any cut or material, but shooting-jackets hold their own in the highest
posts; and a carkey-coloured jerkin, with a few inches of iron
curb-chain sewed on the shoulders to resist sabre-cuts, is a general
favourite.... As to the clothing of the nether man, nothing but a series
of photographs could give the least notion of the numerous combinations
which can be made out of a leg, leather, pantaloons, and small-clothes.
Long stage-boots of buff-coloured leather—for the manufacture of which
Cawnpore is famous—pulled up over knee-breeches of leather or regimental
trousers, are common. There are officers who prefer wearing their
Wellingtons outside their pantaloons, thus exhibiting tops of very
bright colours; and the boot and baggy trousers of the Zouave officer
are not unknown.’
The next point to be adverted to affected civilians and private traders
more extensively than the military. The compensation to sufferers by the
mutiny, a much-disputed question for nearly twelve months, was put into
a train for settlement by a government order issued at Calcutta in May.
This order applied to Bengal only, as being a region quite large enough
to be brought within one set of official rules. The compensation was to
be for loss of property and effects, leaving losses affecting life or
health to be settled by a distinct machinery. A Mr E. Jackson was
appointed at Calcutta as commissioner to inquire into claims for
compensation. A limit was named, the 26th of August, after which no
claims would be received from persons resident in India: an extension of
time being allowed for those who were not in that country. In cases
where the amount claimed did not exceed fifty thousand rupees, the
application to the commissioner was to be accompanied by a detailed
statement of the particulars of the claim, and of the evidence adducible
in support of it; but where the property was of higher amount, the
regulation required only a general estimate to accompany the
application, a further period of three months being allowed for the
preparation and submission of the detailed statement of losses. It was
at the same time very pointedly mentioned that these preliminary
operations did not constitute an actual _claim_ on the Company for any
compensation whatever. ‘It is to be understood that the registry of
applications above provided for does not imply any recognition of claims
to compensation; the Honourable Court of Directors having expressly
reserved their final decision upon the question, whether or not
compensation for losses sustained by the mutiny shall be awarded.’ The
Company probably deemed it wise, in the uncertainty how large might be
the total aggregate sum claimed, to avoid any formal pledge that these
compensations could be rightfully demanded and would be really paid. The
above, we have said, applied to Bengal; but about the same time a
similar notification appeared at Allahabad, applicable to the Northwest
Provinces. Mr C. Grant and Mr E. H. Longden were named commissioners to
record and register claims. The conditions were generally the same as
those in Bengal; and to them was added an announcement that
‘Applications will be received, subject to the same rules, from natives
of the country for compensation, on account of loss of property caused
by their known loyalty and attachment to the British government.’ A
similar announcement was afterwards made, extending the boon to the
province of Oude.
Superadded to the arrangements made for the succour of those who had
borne pecuniary loss by the mutiny, was one dated May 25th. This was to
the effect that some provision would be made for the relief of the
destitute families of persons who had died after the loss of their
property, even though the death were not occasioned by the mutiny. It
was thereupon determined that grants of money should be given to
families rendered impoverished by this double calamity; the grants to be
regulated on the same principle as those allowed to European and native
officers of the government.
[Illustration:
DACCA.
]
One of the resolutions arrived at by the authorities at Calcutta gave
very general satisfaction—except to a few officers jealous of any
encroachments on the privileges of the army. Whether suggested at home,
or in India, the movement was in the right direction. The regulation was
to the effect that civilians who had distinguished themselves in the
field since the commencement of the mutiny, or who should so distinguish
themselves before the mutiny ended, should be allowed to participate in
the honours which had hitherto been considered peculiar to the military
service. The civil servants of the Company, as a body, greatly raised
themselves in the estimation of the nation by the gallantry which many
of them displayed under circumstances of great peril—not only in
defending their posts against large bodies of insurgents, but in sharing
those field and siege operations which are more immediately sources of
honour to military men. What those honours were to be, depended partly
on the crown, partly on the Company; but the object of the order was to
shew that the civil position of a gallant man should not necessarily be
a bar to his occupancy of an honoured place among military men.
In entering now upon the military operations of the month, it is
satisfactory to know that nothing important presents itself for record
in connection with the eastern regions of Bengal. There were few or no
actual mutinies, for reasons more than once assigned in former chapters.
Notwithstanding this safety, however—partly through the superstitious
character of the natives of India, and partly through the uneasy feeling
prevailing in the minds of Europeans during the mutiny—the newspapers
were frequently engaged in discussing mysteries, rumours, and prophecies
of a strange character. One, connected more with Bengal than with the
other provinces, related to ‘something white,’ which was to be ominous
of British rule in India. Where it arose, or how, remained as
undiscoverable as the chupatty mystery; but the rumour put on various
forms at different times and places. At Tipperah, the native story told
of a ‘white thing’ which would be unprocurable after some time. At
Chittagong, a particular day was named, when, ‘out of four things, three
would be given and one withheld;’ and at Jessore, the bazaar-people
became so excited concerning a prophetic rumour of an equally
enigmatical kind, that the magistrate endeavoured to elicit something
from his police-darogah that might explain it; but the man either could
not or would not tell how the story arose. In Dacca and other places the
prediction assumed this form—that after a certain period, a certain
‘white thing’ would cease to exist in India; and in some instances the
exact interval was named, ‘three months and thirteen days.’
Occasionally, the authorities found it necessary to watch very closely
the proceedings of Mohammedan fanatics; who, at Burdwan, Jessore,
Rungpoor, and other places, were detected in attempts to rouse up the
people to a religious war. Fortunately, the townsmen and villagers did
not respond to these appeals. Southwest of Calcutta, the Sumbhulpore
district, disturbed occasionally by rebel bands intent on plunder, was
kept for the most part tranquil by the firm management of Colonel
Forster. In the month of May he hit upon the plan of inviting the still
faithful chieftains of the districts to furnish each a certain number of
soldiers to defend British interests, on promise of a due recognition of
their services afterwards. The chieftains raised two thousand
matchlockmen among them, and took up such positions as Colonel Forster
indicated—a measure which completely frustrated and cowed the rebels.
We may pass at once to a consideration of the state of affairs in Behar
or Western Bengal, comprising the districts around what may be called
the Middle Ganges. This region, as former chapters have sufficiently
told, and as a glance at a map will at once shew, contains many
important cities and towns, which were thrown into great commotion by
the mutiny—such as Patna, Dinapoor, Arrah, Buxar, Azimghur, Goruckpore,
Ghazeepore, Jounpoor, Sasseram, Benares, Chunargur, and Mirzapore. It is
true that many of these were formerly included within the government of
the ‘Northwest Provinces,’ and then in that of the ‘Central Provinces;’
but this is a matter of little consequence to our present purpose; if we
consider them all to belong to the Mid-Ganges region, it will suffice
for the present purpose.
The condition of the region just defined, during May, depended mainly on
the relation between Sir Edward Lugard on the one hand, and the
Jugdispore rebels on the other. How it fared with this active general
and the troops under his command, when April closed, we have already
seen. It will be remembered that about the middle of that month, Koer
Singh took up a strong position at Azimutgurh, from which Lugard deemed
it necessary to dislodge him; that Lugard himself remained encamped at
Azimghur with the bulk of his Azimghur field-force, in order that he
might watch the proceedings of numerous bands of rebels under the Rajahs
of Nuhurpoor and Naweejer and Gholam Hossein, hovering about the
districts of Sandah, Mundoree, and Koelser; but that he made up a strong
column to pursue Koer Singh. This column, placed under the command of
Brigadier Douglas, consisted of the following troops: H.M. 4th foot; a
wing of the 37th foot; a detachment of Punjaub Sappers; two squadrons of
Sikh cavalry; a squadron of the Military Train; and nine guns and
mortars. Then followed the series of cross-purposes, in which Koer Singh
was permitted or enabled to work much more mischief than Sir Edward had
anticipated. The events may briefly be recapitulated thus: On the 17th
and 18th, Douglas, after starting with his column from Azimghur, came up
with the rebels, defeated them at Azimutgurh, and chased them to Ghosee,
Nugra, and Secunderpore. On the 19th he found that they intended to
cross the Gogra before he could come up to them in pursuit—an intention
which he strove to render nugatory. On the 20th he encountered them
again, at Muneer Khas, defeated them with great slaughter, captured most
of their munitions of war, and dispersed the rebels, the main body of
whom fled towards Bullah and Beyriah. On the 21st, Douglas had the
mortification, on reaching Sheopore, of finding that Koer Singh had
outwitted the officer who had been ordered to guard the passage of the
Ganges in the vicinity of Ghazeepore with about nine hundred men; the
wily chief of Jugdispore had got in the rear of the detachment by a
flank-movement, and had crossed the Ganges at an undefended spot. Then
followed Captain Le Grand’s disastrous expedition to Jugdispore on the
23d; the crossing of the Ganges on the 25th by Douglas, with his column;
and the advance towards Arrah and Jugdispore to retrieve the disaster.
To what results these operations led in the month of May, we have now to
see.
Brigadier Douglas arrived at Arrah with a part of his force on the 1st
of May, the rest having arrived two days earlier; but Douglas not being
in sufficient force to effectually encompass the enemy, and the
importance of thoroughly routing Koer Singh being evident, Sir Edward
Lugard, leaving a few troops to guard Azimghur, set out for the Ganges
with his main column, crossed over into the Shahabad district on the 3d
and following days, and prepared for operations in the direction of
Arrah and Jugdispore. The rebels, estimated at seven or eight thousand,
were supposed to be intrenching themselves, and getting in supplies. On
the 8th, Sir Edward arrived in the vicinity of Jugdispore, and came in
sight of some of the rebels. Two companies of the 84th foot, with
detachments of Madras Rifles, and Sikh horse, aided by two
horse-artillery guns, were sent back to Arrah, to protect that place
while operations were being directed against Jugdispore. The
commissioner of Patna at the same time sent the steamer _Patna_ up the
Ganges, to watch the ghâts or ferries. On the 9th, Sir Edward marched
his force from Beheea to an open plain a little to the west of
Jugdispore. Here he intended to encamp for a while, to allow Colonel
Corfield to come up with some additional troops from Sasseram.
Circumstances occurred, however, to change his plan. In the afternoon of
this day a large body of rebels formed outside the jungle, and moved in
the direction of Arrah; but these were quickly followed by cavalry and
horse-artillery, and driven back into the jungle. Another body, much
more numerous, began to fire into Sir Edward’s camp before he could get
his baggage well up and tents fixed. This determined him to attack them
at once. Dividing his force into three columns, he planned an assault on
Jugdispore on three points at once. The place was carried after a little
skirmishing, the rebels making only a slight resistance; they retired to
Lutwarpore, in the jungle district, taking with them two guns which they
had captured from the British in the preceding month. The loss on both
sides was trifling. Leaving a strong party to retain Jugdispore, Lugard
returned to his camp in the evening. According to the rumours prevalent,
Koer Singh, who had so long been a source of annoyance to the British,
had died of his wounds; and the rebels, under his brother Ummer Singh,
were ill supplied and in much confusion. A nephew of Koer Singh, named
Ritbhunghur Singh, gave himself up to the British a short time
afterwards—hopeful of insuring forgiveness by being able to shew that,
in earlier months, he had befriended certain Europeans in a time of
great peril. On the 10th, after ordering all the fortifications at
Jugdispore, and all the buildings which had belonged to Koer Singh, to
be destroyed, Lugard prepared to follow the rebels into the jungle. He
arranged that Colonel Corfield, with the Sasseram force, should approach
Lutwarpore in one direction, while he himself intended to advance upon
it from Jugdispore. On the 11th and 12th much fighting took place. Sir
Edward took the rebels by surprise; they expected to be attacked from
Arrah or Beheea, but he marched westward through a belt of jungle to
Hettumpore, and attacked them on a side which they believed to be quite
safe. Lugard and Corfield were everywhere successful. It was, however, a
harassing kind of warfare, bringing more fatigue than glory; the rebels,
though chastised everywhere, avoided a regular engagement, and retreated
into the jungle after every partial skirmish. At Arrah, Jugdispore,
Lutwarpore, Hettumpore, Beheea, Peroo, and Chitowra, Lugard defeated and
cut them up at various times in the course of the month; yet he could
not prevent them from recombining, and collecting around them a rabble
of budmashes and jail-felons. Sir Edward hoped, at any rate, to be able
so to employ a strong detachment of cavalry as to prevent the rebels
from crossing the river Sone, and carrying anarchy into other districts.
They nevertheless continued to harass the neighbourhood by freebooting
expeditions, if not by formidable military projects. After Lugard’s
defeat of the main force, some of the insurgents broke up into bands of
a few hundreds each, and were joined by budmashes from the towns and
revolted villages. One party attacked an indigo factory near Dumoran,
and burned it to the ground; another effected a murderous outbreak at
the village of Rajpore, near Buxar; another threatened the
railway-bridge works at Karminassa. These mischievous proceedings
naturally threw the whole district into agitation. The threat against
the railway-works was fully carried out about the end of the month; for
the devastators destroyed the engineers’ bungalows and the workmen’s
sheds, set fire to all the wood and coal collected for brick-burning,
destroyed everything they could easily lay their hands on, and
effectually stopped the works for a time. Nothing could be done to quell
these disturbances, until a British force appeared.
Practically, therefore, the ‘Azimghur field-force,’ under Sir Edward
Lugard, succeeded in breaking down the military organisation of the
rebels in that part of India, without being able to prevent the
formation of roaming bands bent on slaughter and devastation. And even
the limited amount of advantage gained was purchased at a high price;
for the tremendous heat of the sun struck down the poor soldiers with
fatal certainty; numbers of them were carried from Jugdispore to Arrah,
towards the close of the month—prostrated by sickness, wounds, fatigue
from jungle fighting, and sun-stroke.
Somewhat further to the north, in the Goruckpore district, another group
of rebels continued to harass the country, disturbing the operations of
peaceful planters and traders. About the end of May, the rebel leader
Mahomed Hussein, with four thousand men, suddenly made an attack upon
the Rajah of Bansee, one of those who had remained faithful to the
British government. The rajah was obliged to flee to a stronghold in a
neighbouring jungle; and then his palace, with the town of Bansee, were
plundered by the rebels. Mr Wingfield, the commissioner of Goruckpore,
immediately started forth with two hundred and fifty Europeans and some
guns to the relief of the rajah, whom he found besieged in his
stronghold. The enemy fled precipitately on hearing of Wingfield’s
approach, notwithstanding the immense disparity of force. The energetic
commissioner then proceeded with the rajah to attack some rebel
villages; while a simultaneous advance was made on Amood by Colonel
Rowcroft. The object of these demonstrations was to keep the rebels in
check until the rains set in, and the waters of the Gogra rose. Towards
the end of the month, four Europeans came into Goruckpore from a
neighbouring station, where they had been suddenly attacked by a body of
rabble under one Baboo Surdoun Singh, and other leaders. This was one
among many evidences of a still disturbed condition of the Goruckpore
district. The district was in a slight degree protected by the passage
of a body of troops who, though retiring rather than fighting, exerted
some kind of influence on the evildoer of the country. We speak of the
Goorkhas of Jung Bahadoor’s Nepaulese contingent. These troops retreated
slowly from Oude towards their own country, neither receiving nor giving
satisfaction from their late share in the warlike operations. After a
sojourn of some time at Goruckpore, they resumed their march on the 17th
of May, proceeding by brigades, and consuming much time in arranging and
dragging their enormous supply of vehicles. They crossed the river
Gunduck at Bagaha, with much difficulty. A distance of about thirty
miles then brought them to Bettiah, and fourteen more to Segowlie—very
near the frontier of the British dominions. It was early in the
following month when the Goorkhas finally reached their native country,
Nepaul—their leader Jung Bahadoor being, though still faithful as an
ally, somewhat dissatisfied by his failure in obtaining notable
advantage from the governor-general in return for services rendered.
Viscount Canning had, many months earlier, received fierce newspaper
abuse for not having availed himself more promptly of aid offered by
Jung Bahadoor; but there now appeared much probability that caution had
been all along necessary in dealing with this ambitious chieftain.
Directing attention next to the region of the Jumna and the Upper
Ganges, we have to notice the continuance of insubordination around the
Allahabad region, almost in the very presence of the governor-general
himself, who still remained, with his staff, in that station. One of the
most vexing symptoms of mischief at this place was the occurrence of
incendiarism—the burning of buildings by miscreants who could not be
discovered. On the 24th of May a new range of barracks was found to be
on fire, and six bungalows were completely destroyed. The prevalence of
a fierce wind, and the scarcity of water, frustrated for some time all
attempts to extinguish the flames. One poor invalid soldier was burned
to death, and many others injured. Beyond the limits of the city itself,
it was a state of things very unexpected by the supreme authorities,
that the road from Allahabad through Futtehpoor to Cawnpore—a road more
traversed than any other by British troops throughout twelve months of
anarchy—should in the middle of May be scarcely passable without a
strong escort. Yet such was the case. The opposition to the British raj,
though it had assumed a guerrilla character, was very harassing to deal
with. The British were strong in a few places; but the rebels were in
numerous small bodies, scattered all over the surrounding country; and
these bodies occasioned temporary panics at spots where there was no
force to meet them. The thorough knowledge of the country, possessed by
some of the leaders, enabled them to baffle the pursuers; and thus it
arose that these petty bands occasioned alarms disproportionate to the
number of men comprising them. Sometimes they would occupy the great
trunk-road, between Allahabad and Cawnpore, and close up all means of
transit unless attacked and driven away by force. On the other hand,
this district exhibited a remarkable union of the new with the old, the
European with the oriental, the practical with the primitive—arising out
of the opening of a railway through a part of the route. After reading,
as we so often have in this volume, of toilsome marches by sunburnt and
exhausted troops over rough roads and through jungle-thickets, it is
with a peculiar feeling of interest that we find an announcement to the
effect, that ‘on the 26th of May a special train left Allahabad with a
party of Sikhs to reinforce Futtehpoor, which was said to be threatened
by a large force of the enemy.’ Had this railway been opened when or
soon after the Revolt began, there is at least a fair probability that
the Cawnpore massacre might have been prevented—provided always that the
railway itself, with its locomotives and carriages, were _not in rebels’
hands_.
Allahabad, about the period now under notice, was made the subject of a
very important project, one of many arising out of the mutiny. The
Indian government had long and fully considered the various advantages
likely to be derived from the founding of a great Anglo-Indian capital
at some spot far removed from the three older presidential cities of
Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay. The spot selected was Allahabad. The
peculiarities of this very important station, before and during the
mutiny, have been frequently noticed in past chapters. Occupying the
point of the peninsula formed by the junction of the two grand rivers
Ganges and Jumna, Allahabad is scarcely paralleled for situation by any
other city in India. The one river brings down to it a stream of traffic
from Kumaon, Rohilcund, Furruckabad, Cawnpore, Futtehpoor, and the
southwestern districts of Oude; while the other brings down that from
Kurnaul, Roorkee, Meerut, Delhi, Muttra, Agra, Calpee, and a wide range
of country in Rajpootana, Bundelcund, and the Doab. On the other sides,
too, it has an extraordinary number of large military and commercial
towns within easy reach (in peaceful times), such as Lucknow, Fyzabad,
Sultanpore, Goruckpore, Azimghur, Jounpoor, Benares, Ghazeepore,
Mirzapore, Dinapoor, and Patna. Agra was at one time intended to have
been converted into a presidential city, the capital of an Agra
presidency; but the intention was not fully carried out; the Northwest
Provinces were formed into a lieutenant-governorship, with Agra as the
seat of government; but the events of the mutiny shewed the necessity of
holding with a strong hand the position of Allahabad, as a centre of
great influence; and Agra began to fall in relative importance.
[Illustration:
FYZABAD.
]
It has been remarked that England has seldom built cities as a nation,
as a government; cities have _grown_, like the constitution, without
those preconceived theories of centralised organisation which are so
prevalent on the continent of Europe. It has been much the same in India
as in England. The three presidential capitals—Calcutta, Madras, and
Bombay—became what they are, not from the development of a plan, but
from a series of incidents having little relative connection. ‘Our three
capitals are congeries of houses, without order, or beauty, or
healthiness other than nature may have supplied. Our cantonments, which
sometimes grow into cities, are generally stuck down in a plain as a
kind of petrified encampment. Even when founding, as in Rangoon, it is
with the utmost difficulty we can compel successive governors to care
whether the original plan be not set aside.’ A problem arose whether
Allahabad might not be an exception to this rule. Standing at the
extreme end of the Doab, and bounded by two fine rivers on the north,
south, and east, it is susceptible of any degree of enlargement by
including additional ground on the west; it might be made one of the
strongest forts in India; and its rivers, aided by the railway when
finished, might make it a great centre of trade. Most of the conditions,
therefore, were favourable to the building of a fine Anglo-Indian city
on that spot. The river frontages, it is easily seen, might easily be
defended against any attacks which orientals could bring against them.
On the west or land side, it was proposed to construct a line of
intrenchment, or a sort of intrenched camp, four miles in length, from
river to river. This fortification would consist mainly of two great
redoubts on the river-banks, each capable of holding an entire regiment,
but each defensible by a small force if necessary. With these two
redoubts, and one midway between them, and earthern embankments to
connect the three, it would be possible to render Allahabad impregnable
to any hostile force likely to be brought against it. Within the space
thus marked out by the embankment and the rivers would be included a
cantonment, a European town, and a native town. The cantonment, a
complete military establishment for four or five regiments, would be
near the western boundary, on the Jumna side. Eastward of this would be
the new English town, built in plots of ground let on lease to builders
(native or European), who would be required, in building houses, shops,
and hotels, to conform to some general plan, having reference to the
railway station as a centre of trade. Nearer the Ganges would be the
native town; while at the point of junction of the two rivers would be
the existing fort, extended and enlarged so as to form if needed a last
stronghold for all the Europeans in Allahabad. Many of the details in
the plan were suggested during a period of panic fear, when the natives
were looked upon as if they were permanently bitter enemies; and, during
the long course of years necessary for working out the idea, great
modification in these details might be expected; but the general
character of the scheme, as developed about the period to which this
chapter relates, may be understood from the above brief sketch.
It was on the 5th of May that a notification appeared at Allahabad,
signed by Mr Thornhill, officiating commissioner under the
governor-general, concerning the leasing of land in that city for
building purposes. The terms were evidently framed with the intention of
attracting the notice of commercial firms, at Calcutta and elsewhere, to
Allahabad as a future emporium of commerce. The regulations may be
summarily noticed as follow: A new civil European town to be formed near
the railway station at Allahabad, distinct from the cantonment, the
native town, and the fort. Land, in plots of three acres each, to be let
on lease by the government, for the erection of shops, hotels,
warehouses, and other buildings requisite for a European population.
Each plot to have a frontage of three hundred feet on a public road,
with a smaller road in the rear. Some of the plots to be let for
dwelling-houses; and these, as well as the hotels and shops, to receive
a certain systematic arrangement, laid down by the authorities for the
general convenience of the whole community. Priority of choice to be
given to those who intend to construct hotels, on account of the great
necessity for that species of accommodation in a newly collected
community. Plots, competed for by two or more persons, to be sold by
auction to the highest bidder. The lease to be for fifty years, unless a
shorter time be specified by agreement; and the lessee to have the
privilege of renewal, under approval as to conditions, but not with any
rise of rental. The rent to be thirty rupees (about £3) per acre per
annum. Leases to be transferable, and sub-letting to be permitted, on
payment of a registration fee; provided the transferree or sublessee
enter into an engagement to fulfil the necessary conditions to the
government. Every lessee to specify the kind of structures he intends to
build on his plot; to commence building within one year after obtaining
the lease; and to finish in three years—on forfeiture both of the lease
and of a money penalty, if the building fail in kind, value, or time.
Lessees to be subject to such rates and taxes as may be imposed for
municipal purposes, and to all regulations of police and conservancy.
Lessees to be placed under stringent rules, concerning the employment of
thatch or other inflammable materials for the roofs of buildings. As a
general rule, one plot to one lessee; but if a special application be
made, and supported on sufficient grounds, two or more plots to be
leased together.—Such were the general regulations. At the time of
issuing the order, there were about forty plots set out as a
commencement to the system.
The turbulent province of Oude next calls for attention; and as Sir
Colin Campbell’s operations bore almost equal reference to Oude and
Rohilcund, we will treat both provinces together.
It will be remembered, from the details given in the last chapter, that
after the great conquest of Lucknow in March, a considerable time
elapsed before any effective attempts were made to overtake and defeat
the rebels who had escaped from that city. A few troopers and a few guns
were, it is true, sent in pursuit, but with no resources for a long
series of marchings and encampings. We have seen that Brigadier John
Jones, with the Roorkee field-force, about three thousand strong—H.M.
60th Rifles, 1st Sikh infantry, Coke’s Rifles, 17th Punjaub infantry,
the Moultan Horse, and detachments of artillery and engineers—advanced
into the heart of Rohilcund from the northwest, while Sir Colin Campbell
and General Walpole operated from the Oude or southeastern side: the
object being to hem in such of the rebels as had assembled in any force
in Rohilcund. Recapitulating the narrative in a few words, we may remind
the reader that Jones started from Roorkee on the 15th of the month;
crossed the Ganges on the 17th; defeated a body of rebels at Nagul on
the same day; and advanced during the next four days steadily on the
road to Mooradabad. On the 22d, he fought and won the battle of Nageena;
on the 23d, at Noorpoor, he struck into the high road from
Mozuffernugger to Mooradabad, with a view of protecting one of the ghâts
or ferries of the Ganges; on the 24th, he reached Chujlite, where he
learned that Feroze Shah, one of the numerous princes of the House of
Delhi, had taken and entered Mooradabad two days before; and on the 25th
he reached that town, which had been hastily evacuated by Feroze Shah on
the news of Jones’s approach. Encamping outside the town, Jones ordered
Lieutenant-colonel (formerly Major) Coke, who commanded the infantry
portion of his force, to march into Mooradabad, and make a diligent
search for a number of rebel chieftains believed to be hidden there.
This search was attended with unexpected success. Coke placed parties of
the Moultan cavalry at all the outlets of the city, to prevent escapes,
and then he attacked and searched all the houses in which rebel
chieftains were believed to be concealed. The capture of one of them was
marked by a daring act of intrepidity on the part of an English officer.
Nawab Mujjoo Khan, the chief of the rebels hereabouts, had caused
himself to be proclaimed Nawab of Mooradabad, and had instigated the
people to murder and plunder the Europeans in the place, many months
earlier. To capture this villain was a point of some importance. Coke
proceeded to the Nawab’s house with two guns, a party of Sappers, and
the 1st Punjaub infantry. The soldiers of the Nawab’s guard making a
stout resistance, many of them were shot down, including the son and
nephew of the Nawab. Lieutenant Angelo then burst open the door of the
room in which the Nawab and another of his sons were concealed, and
captured them. While so occupied, he was fired upon by some of the
Nawab’s guard, from an upper room; whereupon he rushed up stairs, burst
open the door, entered the room single-handed, and shot three men in
succession with his revolver; some of his troops then coming up, he
captured the rest of the guard. In short, the search was thoroughly
successful. The names and titles of twenty-one rebel chieftains
captured, containing many repetitions of Khan, Sheik, Ali, Hossein, Beg,
and Shah, shewed that these evildoers were mostly Mohammedans—the
Hindoos of Rohilcund having been much less extensively involved in
rebellion. While Jones was thus operating in the northwest, Walpole was
engaged, though less successfully, in the southeast. He started on the
9th from Lucknow, with the ‘Rohilcund Field-force,’ five thousand
strong; received a mortifying discomfiture on the 14th at Fort Rhodamow,
rendered more distressing by the death of Brigadier Adrian Hope;
defeated the rebels at Sirsa on the 22d; and crossed the Ramgunga at
Allygunje on the 23d. The commander-in-chief himself left Lucknow about
the middle of the month; started from Cawnpore at the head of a small
column on the 18th; advanced to Kilianpore, Poorah, Urrowl,
Meerun-ke-serai, Gosaigunje, and Kamalgunje between that date and the
24th; entered Furruckabad and Futteghur on the 25th; crossed the Ganges
on the 26th and 27th; joined Walpole’s field-force on the banks of the
Ramgunga on the 28th; marched to Kanth on the 29th; and reached
Shahjehanpoor on the 30th, in force sufficient to retake that city, but
not in time to capture the rebel Moulvie of Fyzabad, who escaped to work
mischief elsewhere.—We thus call to mind that, at the end of April,
Campbell and Walpole had advanced from the southeast as far as
Shahjehanpoor; while Jones had advanced from the northwest to
Mooradabad—the two forces being separated by the city of Bareilly, and a
wide expanse of intervening country. About the same time General Penny
was planning a march with a third column towards a point between
Bareilly and Shahjehanpoor, after crossing the Ganges at Nudowlee; he
was to march through the Budayoon district, and to unite his column with
Sir Colin’s main force at Meeranpore Kutra, six marches distant from
Futteghur. Bareilly, the chief city of Rohilcund Proper, became the
point to which the attention of the commanders of all three forces were
directed. We have now to see to what result these combinations led in
the following month.
On the 2d of May the Rohilcund field-force, of which Sir Colin Campbell
now assumed the command in person, started from Shahjehanpoor, to
commence operations against Bareilly. A small force was left behind for
the defence of Shahjehanpoor, comprising one wing of the 82d foot, De
Kantzow’s Irregular Horse, four guns, and a few artillerymen and
sappers, under Colonel Hall. What befel this small force will presently
appear. Sir Colin marched on the 2d to Tilmul, over a fertile flat
country, diversified with topes of trees, but nearly overwhelmed with
dust, and inhabited by villagers who were thrown into great doubt by the
approach of what they feared might be a hostile force. On the 3d he
advanced from Tilmul to Futtehgunje; where he was joined by the force
which General Penny had undertaken to bring into Rohilcund from the
west.
At this point it is desirable, before tracing the further operations of
the commander-in-chief, to notice the course of events which led to the
death of General Penny. Being at Nerowlee, on the 29th of April, and
believing that the rebels were in some force at the town of Oosait,
Penny set out with a column for service in that direction. This column
consisted of something under 1500 men: namely, 200 Carabiniers, 350 H.M.
64th, 250 Moultan Horse, 360 Belooch 1st battalion, 300 Punjaub 2d
infantry, a heavy field-battery, and a light field-battery with four
guns. The column left Nerowlee about nine in the evening; but various
delays prevented Penny from reaching Oosait, seven miles distant, until
midnight. It then appeared that the enemy had retired from Oosait, and,
as native rumour said, had retreated to Datagunje. The column advanced
deliberately, under the impression that no enemy was near; but when
arrived at Kukerowlee, it suddenly fell into an ambuscade. From the
language used by Colonel Jones of the Carabiniers, whose lot it was to
write the official account of this affair, it is evident that General
Penny had been remiss in precautionary measures; he shared the belief of
Mr Wilson, a political resident who accompanied him, that no enemy was
near, and under the influence of this belief he relaxed the systematic
order of march which had been maintained until Oosait was reached. ‘From
this point,’ we are told, ‘military precautions were somewhat neglected,
the mounted portion of the column being allowed very considerably to
outmarch the infantry; and eventually, though an advanced-guard was kept
up, it was held back immediately in front of the artillery.’ Penny with
his staff, and Mr Wilson, were riding at the head of the advanced-guard;
when at four o’clock, near Kukerowlee, they came into the midst of a
wholly unexpected body of the enemy; who poured out grape and round shot
at not more than forty yards’ distance, charged down from the left with
horsemen, and opened fire with musketry in front. One of the first who
fell was General Penny, brought low by grape-shot. Colonel H. R. Jones,
who now took the command, made the best arrangements he could to meet
the emergency. The four guns of the light field-battery were quickly
ordered up to the front, and the cavalry were brought forward ready for
a charge. There were, however, many difficulties to contend against. The
enemy’s right occupied a mass of sand-hills; their left was protected by
thick groves of trees; the town of Kukerowlee was in their rear to fall
back upon; and the dimness of the light rendered it impossible rightly
to judge the number and position of the rebels. Under these
circumstances, Colonel Jones deemed it best merely to hold his ground
until daylight should suggest the most fitting course of procedure, and
until the infantry should have arrived. When the 64th came up with the
cavalry and artillery which Penny had imprudently allowed to go so far
ahead, Colonel Bingham at once charged the enemy in front, and drove
them into the town. This done, Jones ordered the artillery to shell the
town; this completely paralysed the rebels, who soon began to escape
from the opposite side. Hereupon Jones sent his cavalry in pursuit; many
of the enemy were cut up, and one gun taken; but it was not deemed
prudent to continue this pursuit to any great distance, in a district
imperfectly known. This battle of Kukerowlee was thus, like nearly all
the battles, won by the British; and had it not been for the unfortunate
want of foresight on the part of General Penny, he might have been
spared to write the dispatch which described it. He was the only officer
killed. Those wounded were Captains Forster and Betty, Lieutenants
Eckford, Davies, and Graham. Eckford’s escape from death was very
extraordinary. The first fire opened by the rebels shot his horse from
under him; he then mounted an artillery-horse; a party of
Ghazees—fanatics who have sworn to die for their ‘deen’ or
faith—attacked him, wounded him, and stabbed his horse; Eckford fell
off; and a Ghazee gave him a tremendous cut over the back of the right
shoulder, and left him for dead; Surgeon Jones came up, and helped the
wounded lieutenant along; but the enemy pursuing, Eckford was made to
lie down flat on his face as if dead; the enemy passed on without
noticing him, and he was afterwards rescued by some of his companions.
Three days after this encounter with the rebels, Colonel Jones succeeded
in bringing poor Penny’s column into safe junction with Sir Colin’s
force at Futtehgunje—the mutineers and ruffians from the district of
Budayoon retiring before him, and swelling the mass of insurgents at
Bareilly.
While this was doing, another Jones was marching through Rohilcund in a
different direction. It is necessary to avoid confusion in this matter,
by bearing in mind that Brigadier John Jones commanded the ‘Roorkee
field-force;’ while Colonel H. R. Jones held the temporary command of
the column lately headed by General Penny. The brigadier, in pursuance
of a plan laid down by Sir Colin, directed his march so that both might
reach Bareilly on the same day, the one from Mooradabad and the other
from Shahjehanpoor. While on his march, Jones expected to come up with
the rebels at Meergunje, a place within a few miles of Bareilly. He
found, however, that after constructing two batteries at the first-named
place, they had apparently misdoubted their safety, and retreated to
Bareilly. Cavalry, sent on in pursuit, overtook the rear of the rebels,
cut down great numbers of them, and captured two guns. At an early hour
on the 6th, the brigadier with his force arrived within a mile and a
half of a bridge contiguous to Bareilly, known as Bahadoor Singh’s
bridge. His reconnoitring party was fired upon. A skirmish at once
ensued, which lasted three hours, and ended in the capture of the
bridge; the rebels were driven back with great slaughter into Bareilly.
Just as Jones reached the margin of the city, he heard a cannonading
which denoted the arrival of the commander-in-chief from the opposite
direction.
Having thus noticed the coalescence of the forces under the two Joneses,
we shall be prepared to trace the march of Sir Colin Campbell towards
the common centre to which the attention of all was now directed.
After being reinforced at Futtehgunje by the column recently under the
command of Penny, Sir Colin resumed his march on the 3d of May. As he
advanced, he received news that the rebels were in much disorder.
Several of the chiefs had left them; and Nena Sahib, a coward
throughout, had sought safety by fleeing towards the border-region
between Oude and Nepaul. The main body had been some time at Fureedpore;
but when they heard of Sir Colin being at Futtehgunje they retreated to
Bareilly—thereby running into the power of another column. The
villagers, mostly Hindoos, told distressing tales of the extortions and
wrongs they had suffered at the hands of the Mohammedan chieftains,
during the twelve months that Rohilcund had been in the power of the
rebels; they made great profession of their joy at seeing the arrival of
an English army; but past experience had shewn that such profession
should be received with much qualification. Certain it was, that Sir
Colin Campbell, during his marches through Oude, the Doab, and
Rohilcund, received very little aid, and very little correct
information, from the villagers of the districts through which he
passed; they were either timid, or double-dealing, or both. In one of
his dispatches he said: ‘In spite of the assumed friendship of the
Hindoo portion of the population, I have not found it easier to obtain
information in Rohilcund, on which trust could be put, than has been the
case in dealing with the insurrection in other parts of the empire.’ On
the 4th, the commander-in-chief advanced from Futtehgunje to Fureedpore,
only one march from Bareilly. Rumours now arrived that not only Nena
Sahib, but the Delhi prince Feroze Shah, had sought safety by flight
from Bareilly; but that Khan Mahomed Khan still remained at the head of
the rebels. On this point, however, and on the number of the enemy’s
forces, no information was obtained that could be relied upon. As for
Bareilly itself, supposing no fortifications to have been thrown up by
the rebels, it could not long maintain a siege; seeing that, with the
exception of a stream with rather steep banks, there was no obstacle to
the entrance of a force from without. The city itself consisted mainly
of a street two miles long, with numerous narrow streets and lanes
branching off to the right and left; outside these streets and lanes
were large suburbs of detached houses, walled gardens, plantations, and
enclosures; and outside the suburbs were wide plains intersected by
nullahs. It was at present uncertain whether the two forces, from
Shahjehanpoor and Mooradabad, could prevent the escape of the enemy over
these lateral suburbs and plains; but such was certainly the hope and
wish of the commander-in-chief.
[Illustration:
Hindoo Fruit-girl.
]
Early in the morning of the 5th, Sir Colin left his camping-ground at
Fureedpore, and advanced towards Bareilly. After a brief halt, the
videttes detected a body of rebel cavalry in the distance; and Sir Colin
at once marshalled his forces for an attack. The whole force was
brigaded into two brigades of cavalry, under Jones and Hagart; one of
artillery, under Brind; and two of infantry, under Hay and Stisted.[172]
Without reference to the brigades, however, the order of advance was
thus arranged: the 2d Punjaub cavalry formed a line of skirmishers on
the left of the main-road; the Lahore light horse formed a similar line
on the right; while across the road, and in support of these
skirmishers, was a line formed by troops of the 9th Lancers and the 1st
Punjaub cavalry, a troop of horse-artillery, and several field-guns.
Then came the 78th Highlanders, and a body of Sappers and Engineers,
along the road; the 93d foot on the right of the road; and the 42d
Highlanders on the left. Next, supporting and flanking these, were the
79th foot, the Carabiniers, the Moultan Horse, the remainder of the 9th
Lancers and of the Punjaub cavalry, and a wing of the Belooch battalion.
Then came the siege-train and the enormous array of baggage; flanked by
the 64th foot, a wing of the 82d, the 2d Punjaub infantry, and the 4th
Punjaub rifles. Lastly came the rear-guard, comprising the 22d Punjaub
infantry, the 17th irregular cavalry, a squadron of the 5th Punjaub
cavalry, and a troop of horse-artillery. As this strong force advanced,
the rebels fired a few shot from a battery set up at the entrance to
Bareilly; but they made scarcely any attempt to fortify or defend either
the stream that crossed the high road, or the bridge over the stream.
The enemy’s infantry appeared to be mostly congregated in the old
cantonment or sepoy-lines, while the cavalry were hovering about in
topes of trees. The infantry scarcely shewed; but the cavalry, aided by
horse-artillery, made demonstrations as if about to attack, in numbers
estimated at two or three thousand. This did not stay the progress of
Sir Colin, who was too strong to be affected by such an attempt.
Advancing through a suburb on one side of the city, he ordered the 42d,
the 79th, and a Sikh or Punjaub regiment, to explore a ruined mass of
one-storied houses. What followed may best be told in the language of Mr
Russell, who was with the army at the time: ‘As soon as the Sikhs got
into the houses, they were exposed to a heavy fire from a large body of
matchlockmen concealed around them. They either retired of their own
accord, or were ordered to do so; at all events, they fell back with
rapidity and disorder upon the advancing Highlanders. And now occurred a
most extraordinary scene. Among the matchlockmen, who, to the number of
seven or eight hundred, were lying behind the walls of the houses, was a
body of Ghazees or Mussulman fanatics, who, like the Roman Decii, devote
their lives with solemn oaths to their country or their faith. Uttering
loud cries, “Bismillah, Allah, deen, deen!” one hundred and thirty of
these fanatics, sword in hand, with small circular bucklers on the left
arm, and green cummerbungs, rushed out after the Sikhs, and dashed at
the left of the right wing of the Highlanders. With bodies bent and
heads low, waving their tulwars with a circular motion in the air, they
came on with astonishing rapidity. At first they were mistaken for
Sikhs, whose passage had already somewhat disordered our ranks.
Fortunately, Sir Colin Campbell was close up with the 42d; his keen,
quick eye detected the case at once. “Steady, men, steady; close up the
ranks. Bayonet them as they come on.” It was just in time; for these
madmen, furious with bang, were already among us, and a body of them
sweeping around the left of the right wing got into the rear of the
regiment. The struggle was sanguinary but short. Three of them dashed so
suddenly at Colonel Cameron that they pulled him off his horse ere he
could defend himself. His sword fell out of its sheath, and he would
have been hacked to pieces in another moment but for the gallant
promptitude of Colour-sergeant Gardiner, who, stepping out of the ranks,
drove his bayonet through two of them in the twinkling of an eye. The
third was shot by one of the 42d. Brigadier Walpole had a similar
escape; he was seized by two or three of the Ghazees, who sought to put
him off his horse, while others cut at him with their tulwars. He
received two cuts on the hand, but he was delivered from the enemy by
the quick bayonets of the 42d. In a few minutes the dead bodies of one
hundred and thirty-three of these Ghazees, and some eighteen or twenty
wounded men of ours, were all the tokens left of the struggle.’
Sir Colin had not yet reached Bareilly. The little skirmishing that had
occurred was in one of the suburbs. The enemy’s cavalry, though
powerless for any serious attack, succeeded in creating, by a dash
across the plain towards the baggage, an indescribable amount of alarm
among the camp-followers, bazaar-traders, horses, camels, bullocks, and
elephants. There was not much real fighting throughout the day; but the
heat was so intense, the poor soldiers suffered so much from thirst, so
many were brought low by sun-stroke, and all were so fatigued, that Sir
Colin resolved to bivouac on the plain for the night, postponing till
the next day an advance into, and the capture of, the city of Bareilly.
Whether this delay on the road to victory was sound or not in a military
sense, it afforded the enemy an opportunity to escape, which they did
not fail to take advantage of. On the morning of the 6th, it was
ascertained that many of the leaders, and a large body of rebel troops,
had quietly left the place. Guns were brought to bear upon certain
buildings in the city, known or suspected to be full of insurgents; and
it was while this cannonade was in progress that Sir Colin became aware
of the arrival of Brigadier Jones, already adverted to. On the 7th the
two forces advanced into the city, and took complete possession of it,
but without capturing any of the leaders, or preventing the escape of
the main body of rebels. A large quantity of artillery, mostly of recent
native manufacture, fell into the hands of the victors, together with a
great store of shell, shot, and powder, for the manufacture of which,
materials and machinery had been provided by the rebels.
Before proceeding with the narrative of Bareilly affairs, it will be
necessary to notice a very remarkable episode at Shahjehanpoor. It will
be remembered that when Sir Colin Campbell started from that place on
the 2d of May, to advance on Bareilly, he left behind him a small
defensive force. In his dispatch he said: ‘When I passed through
Shahjehanpoor, I was informed that the Fyzabad Moulvie, and the Nawab of
the former place, were at Mohumdee, with a considerable body of men who
had retired from Shahjehanpoor; and I thought it would be impolitic to
leave the district without evidence of our presence.’ He therefore told
off a small defensive force; comprising a wing of the 82d foot,
Lieutenant De Kantzow’s irregular horse, a few artillerymen, and four
guns. In obedience to orders left by Sir Colin, Colonel Hall, of the
82d, marched this small force from the camp at Azeezgunje, to occupy the
jail in the cantonment of Shahjehanpoor as a military post. There being
no shade within the cantonment, he pitched his camp for a time in a tope
of trees near the jail. He next formed the jail into a small intrenched
position, with four guns, and as large a supply of provisions as he
could procure. All this was done in one day, the 2d of May; and, indeed,
not an hour was to be lost; for a spy appeared on the following morning
to announce that a large body of rebels had arrived within four miles of
the place. This announcement proved to be correct. A strong band of
insurgents from Mohumdee in Oude, taking advantage of Sir Colin’s
departure from Shahjehanpoor, were advancing to regain possession of
that station. Colonel Hall immediately sent his baggage and provisions
into the jail, and ordered four companies of the 82d to guard the camp
during this transfer. Going out to reconnoitre, he saw the enemy’s
cavalry approaching. Lieutenant De Kantzow would willingly have charged
the enemy with his small body of horse; but the colonel, knowing the
overwhelming force of the rebels, and noting his instructions to act on
the defensive, forbade this charge. Both went into the jail, with their
handful of troops, and prepared for a resolute defence. The rebels
arrived, seized the old fort, plundered the town, put many of the
principal inhabitants to death, and established patrols on the river’s
bank. It was computed that they were little less than eight thousand
strong, with twelve guns. Against this strong force, Hall held his
position for eight days and nights, sustaining a continuous bombardment,
without thinking for an instant of yielding. Not until the 7th of the
month did the commander-in-chief hear of this disaster at Shahjehanpoor.
He at once made up a brigade; consisting of the 60th Rifles, the 79th
Highlanders, a wing of the 82d foot, the 22d Punjaub infantry, two
squadrons of Carabiniers, Cureton’s Horse, with some artillery and guns.
Brigadier Jones, who commanded this brigade, received at the same time
from Sir Colin discretionary power to attack the enemy at Mohumdee after
the relief of Hall at Shahjehanpoor, if he should so deem it expedient.
Jones, at the head of his brigade, started from Bareilly on the 8th, and
reached Shahjehanpoor on the 11th. At daybreak, a body of the enemy
having been seen, Jones sent out the Mooltan Horse to pursue them; but a
heavy mass of troops being now visible, it became necessary to draw up
in order of battle. The enemy’s cavalry began the battle; these were
driven off by Jones’s howitzers. Then the Highlanders and Rifles were
pushed on as skirmishers, supported by horse-artillery; and in a short
time the rebels were put to flight—allowing the brigadier to select his
own point of entrance into Shahjehanpoor. Fortunately he made himself
acquainted with the fact that many buildings in the suburbs had been
loopholed for musketry, and with the probability that many others in the
heart of the town had been similarly treated; he thereupon avoided the
main street, and made a detour through the eastern suburbs. No enemy was
visible within the town, until a strong party of troopers were found
drawn up near the school-house; these were quickly dispersed by a few
shrapnell shells, and a pursuit by the Carabiniers, leaving a gun and
some ammunition-wagons behind them. Jones continued his march by the
church, and across the parade-ground to the jail, where the gallant
little garrison under Colonel Hall had so long defended themselves
against an overwhelming force. The bold stand made by this officer was
an enterprise that excited little attention amid the various excitements
of the period; but Sir Colin Campbell did not fail to see that the
defence had been prompt, energetic, and skilful. The adjutant-general,
writing to the governor-general, said: ‘I am directed by the
commander-in-chief to inform his lordship that the lieutenant-colonel
hardly does justice to himself in his report of this defence, which was
conducted by him with prudence and skill, and consequently with trifling
loss. I am to add that Lieutenant-colonel Hall, although he makes no
mention of the fact, was himself wounded by a musket-bullet in the leg,
from the effect of which he has not yet (May 29th) recovered.’
To return to Bareilly. After the operations which have now been briefly
described, the insurgents were so completely driven out of Mooradabad,
Bareilly, and Shahjehanpoor, the principal towns in this province, that
it was no longer deemed necessary to keep up the ‘Rohilcund field-force’
in its collected form; the various brigades, cavalry and infantry, were
broken up, and Sir Colin gave separate duties to his various officers,
according to the tenor of the information received from various parts of
the country. Some corps and detachments remained at Bareilly; some went
to Lucknow; one or two Punjaub regiments set off towards Meerut; and
General Walpole was placed in command in Kumaon and Rohilcund. It was
just at this time, the 11th of May, that Sir Colin Campbell received an
official notification from the Queen to thank his troops in her name for
their gallant services in earlier months. The address was, of course,
merely of a customary kind under such circumstances; but it constituted
one among the list of honours to which soldiers look as some reward for
their hard life.[173] The ‘last stronghold’ adverted to by him was
Bareilly; he could not then know that another stronghold, Gwalior, was
destined to be the scene of a much more sanguinary struggle.
Among the arrangements more immediately affecting Rohilcund, was the
formation of a column for special service in the country districts. This
column, placed under the command of Lieutenant-colonel (now Brigadier)
Coke, comprised a wing of the 42d Highlanders, the 1st Punjaub rifles,
the 1st Sikh infantry, a detachment of the 24th Punjaub infantry, a
squadron of Carabiniers, the Moultan Horse, a detachment of the 17th
irregular cavalry, and a considerable force of artillery. With three
weeks’ supplies for the European troops, and four weeks’ for the native,
this column set forth from Bareilly on the 12th of May.
The commander-in-chief, leaving instructions for the formation of
efficient defences at Bareilly, started off to some more central
station, where he could be in easy communication with the various
columns engaged in different parts of Northern India. General Walpole
took command of the whole of the Rohilcund troops; having under him
Coke’s brigade just adverted to, and Major Lennox to superintend the
engineering works at Bareilly. Mr Alexander established himself as civil
commissioner, to reorganise a government for that long-distracted
province. Being thus satisfied that affairs were in a good train, Sir
Colin started on the 15th, taking with him his head-quarters staff, the
64th foot, a wing of the 9th Lancers, and detachments of other troops.
The veteran commander bore heat and fatigue in a manner that astonished
his subordinates; he got through an amount of work which knocked up his
aids-de-camp; and was always ready to advise or command, as if rest and
food were contingencies that he cared not about. The natives, when any
of them sought for and obtained an interview with him, were often a good
deal surprised to see the commander of the mighty British army in
shirt-sleeves and a pith-hat; but the keen eye and the cool manner of
the old soldier told that he had all his wits about him, and was none
the worse from the absence of glitter and personal adornment. His
advance in the first instance was to Fureedpore, as a first stage
towards Futteghur; his second to Futtehgunje; but here he heard news
that changed his plans. To understand what occurred, we must revert to
the affairs at Shahjehanpoor.
When Brigadier Jones had relieved Colonel Hall from his difficulties on
the 11th, he found that he had been engaged with a fragment only of the
enemy’s force; and he prepared for the contingency of a hostile
encounter. On the 15th he was attacked with great fury and in great
force by the rebels, who were headed by the Moulvie of Fyzabad, the
Begum of Oude, the Shahzada of Delhi, and (as some thought) by Nena
Sahib. The struggle continued throughout the day, and needed all the
activity and resources of the brigadier. So large was the body of
rebels, indeed, that he could do nothing more than act on the defensive
until reinforcements could reach him. This was the information received
by Sir Colin when at Futtehgunje. He immediately re-arranged his forces.
Leaving the 47th and 93d foot, the 17th Punjaub infantry, the 2d Sikh
cavalry, and some horse and foot artillery, to guard Bareilly; he
hastened towards Shahjehanpoor with the 64th foot, the Belooch
battalion, the 9th Lancers, and some horse and foot artillery. On the
17th he marched to Tilhur; moving cautiously, for the rebels were known
to be in great force not far distant. He rested during the mid-day heat,
in a tope of mango-trees beyond the village of Tilhur. In the evening,
information arrived that the Moulvie, with a large force, was strongly
posted on the Mohumdee road, a few miles northeast of Shahjehanpoor.
Mohumdee, which had been made a stronghold by the rebels, comprised a
brick-fort, mounted with twelve or fifteen guns, strengthened in various
ways, and protected within and without by troops. The Moulvie, as the
most skilful of the insurgent leaders, held the chief command in these
parts; but the Begum of Oude, and the Shahzada of Delhi, were believed
to be near at hand. Mohumdee itself was about twenty miles from
Shahjehanpoor; but the whole road was more or less commanded by the
rebels. In the early morn of the 18th Sir Colin started again. Arriving
at Shahjehanpoor, he passed the old camping-ground, made a partial
circuit of the city to the bridge of boats, crossed the bridge, and
traversed the city to the other side. It was found that the city had
suffered considerably by the cannonading which Brigadier Jones had been
compelled to inflict upon it, in his operations for the relief of the
little garrison under Colonel Hall; and that many of the respectable
inhabitants had deserted the place until more peaceful times, more
facilities for quiet trade, should arrive.
When Sir Colin’s force joined that under Brigadier Jones, and the two
commanders compared notes, it was found that the brigadier’s troops had
suffered intensely from the heat. Mr Russell, who at that time—sick and
hurt by a kick from a horse—was carried in a doolie or litter among the
‘baggage’ of Sir Colin’s army, was not sufficiently in front to witness
much of the fighting; but his diary is full of vivid pictures of
camp-life under a burning sun: ‘In Rose’s attack on the enemy at Koonch,
eight men fell dead in the ranks, and upwards of twenty officers and men
had to be carried from the field through the heat of the sun. Nineteen
of our casualties at Bareilly, ten of which were fatal, were caused in
the same way. In fact, every march henceforth after ten o’clock in the
morning must be attended with loss of life.’—‘A peep into most of the
tents would discover many of the head-quarters’ staff panting on their
charpoys, in the nearest possible approach to Adamite costume, and
gasping for breath like carp on the banks of a moat. It may readily be
imagined—if officers, each of whom has a tent to himself, with kuskus
tatties, punkahs, and similar appliances to reduce the temperature,
suffer so much from heat—what the men endure, packed ten or twelve in a
tent, and in some regiments eighteen or twenty, without such resources,
and without change of light clothing; and how heavily picket-duty,
outlying and inlying, presses upon them.’ In encamping after a twilight
morning march, ‘it may be easily imagined how anxiously each man surveys
the trees about his tent as the site is marked out, and calculates what
shelter it will give him, and at what time the sun will find out his
weak points during the day; for indeed the rays do strike through every
interstice like red-hot shot. There is no indecision of shadow, no
infirmity of outline; for wherever the sun falls on the side of a tent,
it seems to punch out a fervid blazing pattern on the gray ground of the
canvas.’—‘The motion of a doolie is by no means unpleasant; but I
confess my experience of its comforts has now lasted quite long enough.
It is a long cot slung from a bamboo-pole, borne on the shoulders of
four men, two in front and two behind, who at a shuffling pace carry you
along the road at the rate of four miles an hour; and two spare men
follow as a relief. As the bottom of the litter hangs close to the
ground, the occupant has more than his share of all the dust that is
going; but if the curtains or tilts are let down, the heat becomes
insupportable.’—‘The march of Jones’s column to the relief of
Shahjehanpoor had told heavily upon the men. Upwards of thirty rank and
file of the 79th fell out in marching to and through the city; and the
60th Rifles, accustomed though they be to Indian warfare, were deprived
of the services of upwards of forty men from sun-stroke. It was
pitiable, I was told, to see the poor fellows lying in their doolies,
gasping their last. The veins of the arm were opened, and leeches
applied to the temples; but notwithstanding every care, the greater
number of the cases were fatal almost immediately; and even among the
cases of those who recovered, there are few who are fit for active
service again, except after a long interval of rest.’—‘I own I am
distressed when I see the 60th Rifles dressed in dark-green tunics,
which absorb the heat almost as much as if they were made of black
cloth, and their cloth forage-caps poorly covered with a few folds of
dark cotton. What shall we say of the 79th Highlanders, who still wear
that picturesque and extraordinary head-dress, with the addition of a
flap of gray cloth over the ears? If it were white, perhaps it would
afford some protection against the sun; but, as it is, this mass of
black feathers is surely not the head-dress that would be chosen by any
one, except a foolish fantastic savage, for the plains of India.’
Having arrived at Shahjehanpoor on the 18th, the commander-in-chief
wished to give his troops a little needful rest during the heat of the
day. A cavalry detachment, however, having gone out to reconnoitre, came
in sight of a small mud-fort containing four guns; the guns fired upon
the cavalry; the report of this firing brought forward a body of the
enemy’s troopers; and the appearance of these drew out Sir Colin and
nearly the whole of his force. Thus a battle-array was very unexpectedly
formed. Among the rebels was a large body of Rohilla troopers—active,
determined, well mounted, and well armed; and as these men fought better
than was wont among the enemy, and were supported by many guns, there
followed a good deal of cavalry and artillery skirmishing. During the
firing, a round-shot passed so close to Sir Colin Campbell and General
Mansfield as greatly to endanger both, and to increase the desire among
the soldiers generally that the commander-in-chief, who was very careful
of his men’s lives, would attach a little more value to his own.
Although the result of the encounter was to drive off the enemy to a
greater distance, it was not wholly satisfactory or decisive; Sir Colin
had not intended to resume active service until his troops had been
refreshed by a few hours’ rest; but the reconnaissance had been so
managed as to precipitate an engagement with the enemy. It was only a
small part of the rebel force that was thus encountered on the 18th; the
main body, eight or ten thousand strong, was at Mohumdee.
The commander-in-chief, finding himself too weak in cavalry to pursue
the enemy with any effect, suspended operations for a few days;
remaining at Shahjehanpoor until Brigadier Coke’s column could join him
from the district of Pileebheet. Coke, in accordance with a plan already
noticed, was preparing to sweep round the country by way of Boodayoun to
Mooradabad; but he now joined Sir Colin, on the 22d; and preparations
were made for an immediate advance upon the rebel position at Mohumdee.
Again were the enemy beaten, and again did the Moulvie and the other
leaders escape. When the British marched to that place on the 24th they
found that the rebels had evacuated their strong fort, after destroying
the defence-works. They had also destroyed Kujoorea, a very strong
doubly intrenched position, surrounded by thick bamboo-hedges, and
having a citadel. Several guns were dug up at the last-named place; and
much property was discovered which had once belonged to the unfortunate
Europeans murdered by the rebels nearly twelve months earlier.
Throughout the operations in Oude and Rohilcund, from May 1857 till May
1858, one of the master-spirits among the rebels was the Moulvie of
Fyzabad—a man whose name has been so often mentioned: ‘A tall, lean, and
muscular man, with lantern jaws, long thin lips, high aquiline nose,
deep-set large dark eyes, beetle brows, long beard, and coarse black
hair falling in masses over his shoulders.’ During the investigations
which were subsequently made into the plans and intrigues of the rebels
in Oude, the fact was ascertained that this Moulvie had been known many
years before as Ahmed Shah, a sort of inspired fanatic or fakeer. He
travelled through the Northwest Provinces on some sort of miraculous
mission which was a mystery to the Europeans; his stay at Agra was of
considerable duration, and was marked by the exercise of much influence
over the Mohammedan natives. Mr Drummond, magistrate of that city, kept
an eye on him as a suspicious character; and it was afterwards regarded
as a probability that the Moulvie had been engaged in some plotting
inimical to the English ‘raj.’ The commencement of the mutiny in May
1857 may have been determined by unforeseen circumstances; but abundant
proofs were gradually obtained that some sort of conspiracy had been
long before formed, and hence a reasonable inference that the Moulvie
may have been one of the conspirators. When the troops mutinied at
Fyzabad in June, they placed the Moulvie at their head. He had been in
that city in April, attended by several fanatic followers; and here he
circulated seditious papers, openly proclaiming a religious war.
Although the police on this occasion were ordered to arrest him, he and
his followers made an armed resistance which could not be suppressed
without military aid. The Moulvie was captured, tried, and condemned for
execution; but the Revolt broke out before he could thus be got rid of,
and then he suddenly changed character from a felon to a leader of a
formidable body of armed men. Though sometimes eclipsed in power by
other leaders, he maintained great influence over the rebels throughout
the turbulent proceedings of the period. There can be little doubt that
he had much of the sincerity of a true religious fanatic; and as he was
an able man, and free from the dastardly cruelty that so stained the
names of Nena Sahib and other leaders of unenviable notoriety, a certain
kind of respect was felt for him by the British whom he opposed.
When the month of May ended, and Sir Colin Campbell had proceeded to
Futteghur as a central station whence he could conveniently watch the
progress of events, the Rohilcund and Roorkee field-forces were broken
up; and the regiments which had composed them were set apart for various
detached duties. Brigadier Seaton remained at Shahjehanpoor, with the
60th Rifles, the 82d foot, the 22d Punjaub infantry, Cureton’s cavalry,
two squadrons of the 6th Dragoon Guards, and some artillery. The 79th
Highlanders, and various detachments of artillery, took their departure
for Futteghur. The 64th went to Meerut; the 9th Lancers to Umballa; and
Coke’s Sikh brigade to Boodayoun or Pileebheet. At the end of the month
all was quiet at and near Shahjehanpoor, and the peaceful portion of the
inhabitants were returning; but it was doubtful how soon a new irruption
of rebels from Oude would throw everything again into confusion. Indeed
there were at that time many rebel leaders at the head of small bodies
of insurgents, ready for mischief; among whom were Baboo Ramnarain of
Islamnuggur, and Nizam Ali of Shahee—but these men could safely be
regarded rather as guerrilla chieftains than as military leaders.
It was on this fitting occasion, when there seemed to be a lull in the
din of war, that Sir Colin Campbell issued a congratulatory address to
the troops of the Anglo-Indian armies. Although the address was not made
publicly known to the troops by the adjutant-general until the following
month, it was dated the 28th of May, and ran as follows:
‘In the month of October 1857 the garrison of Lucknow was still shut up,
the road from Calcutta to Cawnpore was unsafe, the communications with
the northwest were entirely closed, and the civil and military
functionaries had disappeared altogether from wide and numerous
provinces. Under instructions from the Right Honourable the
Governor-general, a large plan was designed, by which the resources of
the three presidencies, after the arrival of reinforcements from
England, should be made available for combined action. Thus, while the
army of Bengal, gathering strength from day to day, has recovered the
Gangetic Doab, restored the communications with the northwest of the
empire, relieved the old garrison of Lucknow, afterwards taking that
city, reoccupying Rohilcund, and finally insuring in a great measure the
tranquillity of the old provinces—the three columns put in movement from
Bombay and Madras have rendered like great and efficient services in
their long and difficult marches on the Jumna, through Central India,
and in Rajpootana. These columns, under Major-generals Sir Hugh Rose,
K.C.B., Whitlock, and Roberts, have admirably performed their share in
the general combination arranged under the orders of his lordship the
governor-general. This combination was spread over a surface ranging
from the boundaries of Bombay and Madras to the extreme northwest of
India. By their patient endurance of fatigue, their unfailing obedience,
and their steadfast gallantry, the troops have enabled the generals to
fulfil their instructions. In no war has it ever happened that troops
have been more often engaged than during the campaigns which have now
terminated. In no war has it ever happened that troops should always
contend against immense numerical odds, as has been invariably the case
in every encounter during the struggle of the last year; and in no war
has constant success without a check been more conspicuously achieved.
It has not occurred that one column here, another there, has won more
honour than the other portions of the army; the various corps have done
like hard work, have struggled through the difficulties of a hot-weather
campaign, and have compensated for paucity of numbers in the vast area
of operations by continuous and unexampled marching, notwithstanding the
season. It is probable that much yet remains for the army to perform;
but now that the commander-in-chief is able to give the greater part of
it rest for a time, he chooses this moment to congratulate the generals
and troops on the great results which have attended their labours. He
can fairly say that they have accomplished in a few months what was
believed by the ill-wishers of England to be either beyond her strength,
or to be the work of many years.’
This address is not fully intelligible without taking into account
certain brilliant proceedings in Central India, hereafter to be noticed;
but it is transcribed here as a suitable termination to the Rohilcund
operations in the month of May. The other important affairs bearing
relation to it will find their due place of record.
Oude itself has been very little mentioned in this chapter. The reason
is, that the most important section of the rebels escaped from that
province into Rohilcund, after the great siege of Lucknow, thereby
determining the main scene of struggle during May. There was not,
however, a total cessation of fighting in Oude. Sir Hope Grant, who had
been left at Lucknow by Sir Colin Campbell, had more than one encounter
with the rebels in the course of the month. Some of these operations
brought him, on the 10th, to a place called Doundea Khera, a fort
belonging to the rebel Ram Buksh. This fort, though of mud, was of
considerable strength; it was square, with earthen walls and bastions of
considerable thickness; it had four guns, and was rendered difficult of
approach by a ditch and belt of prickly jungle. The fort was, however,
found deserted when Sir Hope arrived. His work then consisted in
destroying the fort, and such of the buildings as could be shewn to have
belonged to Ram Buksh. This done, he advanced on the 12th to Nuggur.
Hearing that two thalookdars or chieftains, Beni Madhoo and Shewrutten
Singh, had assembled an army of fifteen thousand infantry, sixteen
hundred cavalry, and eleven guns, at Sirsee, a village and fort about
five miles off, Grant determined to attack them at once. He left all his
baggage, supplies, &c., with tents struck, in a safe position, with a
force of cavalry, infantry, and artillery for their protection. From the
extreme difficulty of obtaining correct information in that country, Sir
Hope was in much doubt concerning the ground occupied by the enemy; and
eventually he found it stronger than he had expected. The rebels were
drawn up on the banks of a nullah, with an extensive thick jungle in
their rear, rendered still stronger by the fortified village of Towrie.
At five in the afternoon the enemy’s first gun opened fire; but as soon
as Grant had formed his column, with cavalry and horse-artillery
covering his right flank, the rebels were attacked with such boldness
and vigour that they gave way, and were driven into the jungle, leaving
two iron guns behind them. Grant’s column was at one time almost
surrounded by the rebels; but a prompt movement of some of the regiments
speedily removed this difficulty. The rebels suffered severe loss,
including that of one of their leaders, Shewrutten. Sir Hope Grant,
deeming it imprudent to allow his troops to enter the jungle, bivouacked
for the night on the ground where the battle had been fought, and
returned on the morning of the 13th to his camp at Nuggur. During these
operations, he found himself within a short distance of the small Hindoo
temple in which Lieutenants Delafosse and Thomson, and several other
Europeans, sought refuge after their escape from the boat-massacre at
Cawnpore, eleven months earlier.[174] Much blood having been spilled on
that occasion, one of the objects of the present expedition was to bring
certain of the native miscreants to justice. Mr Elliott,
assistant-commissioner, who accompanied the column, went on to the
temple with a squadron of cavalry, took a few prisoners, and then
destroyed the temple—which still exhibited the shot-holes resulting from
the dastardly attack of a large body of natives on a few unarmed
Europeans.
Towards the close of the month, Hope Grant found that a body of the
enemy was threatening Bunnee, and endeavouring to obtain command of the
high road between Lucknow and Cawnpore; this necessitated an expedition
on his part to frustrate the design. As a means of better controlling
approach to the capital, he blew up the stone-bridge over the Goomtee,
thus leaving the iron suspension-bridge as the only mode of crossing.
Of Lucknow, little need be said in this chapter. The engineers were
employed in constructing such batteries and strongholds, and clearing
away such native buildings, as might enable a small British force to
defend the place; while Mr Montgomery, the newly appointed
chief-commissioner, was cautiously feeling his way towards a
re-establishment of civil government. Viscount Canning had given him
plenary powers, in reference to the issue of any proclamation to the
natives—powers which required much tact in their exercise; for there was
still a large amount of fierce opposition and vindictive feeling to
contend against.
In the Doab, and the district adjacent to it, several minor affairs took
place during the month, sufficient to indicate a very turbulent
condition of portions of the population, even if not of great military
importance. At one period of the month five thousand rebels, in two
bodies, crossed the Kallee Nuddee, and marched along the western
boundary of the Futteghur district, burning and destroying villages.
They then crossed the Ganges into Oude by the Shorapore Ghât, taking
with them several guns. Here, however, they were watched and checked by
a small force under Brigadier Carthew, and by Cureton’s Horse. About the
same time, a party of a thousand rebels, with four guns, marched from
Humeerpore to Asung, on the great trunk-road between Lullutpore and
Cawnpore; they commanded that road for several days, until a force could
be sent out to dislodge them. Higher up the Doab, the fort and village
of Ayana, in the Etawah district, were taken by a party of Alexander’s
Horse, and a rebel chief, named Roop Singh, expelled. Colonel Riddell,
who commanded a column from Etawah, encountered and defeated small
bodies of rebels near Ooriya and Sheregurh, and then descended the
Ganges in boats to Calpee, to take part in an important series of
operations in which the Central India field-force was mainly concerned.
Brigadier Showers, during the greater part of this month, was employed
in various ways around Agra as a centre. Among other measures, he
organised a corps of Jât cavalry, to defend the ghâts of the Ganges, and
prevent rebels from crossing the river. Agra itself, with the brigadier
at hand to check rising disturbances, remained free from serious
troubles; though from time to time rumours were circulated which threw
the Europeans into some uneasiness. As the native inhabitants still
possessed a number of old firelocks, swords, and other weapons; it was
deemed prudent to issue an order for disarming. An immense collection of
queer native weapons was the result—not very formidable to English
troops, but mischievous as a possible element of strength to the
disaffected. Many of the guns in the fort were kept pointed towards the
city, as a menace to evildoers.
In reference to many parts of the Doab, there was ample reason for
British officers feeling great uneasiness at the danger which still
surrounded them in the Northwest Provinces, wherever they were
undefended by troops. The murder of Major Waterfield was a case in
point. About the middle of May the major and Captain Fanshawe were
travelling towards Allygurh _viâ_ Agra. In the middle of the night, near
Ferozabad, a band of a hundred and fifty rebels surrounded the vehicle,
shot the driver, and attacked the travellers. The two officers used
their revolvers as quickly as they could; but the unfortunate Waterfield
received two shots, one in the head and one through the chest, besides a
sword-cut across the body; he fell dead on the spot. Fanshawe’s escape
was most extraordinary. The rebels got him out of the carriage, and
surrounded him; but they pressed together so closely that each prevented
his neighbour from striking. Fanshawe quickly drew his sword, and swung
it right and left so vigorously that he forced a passage for himself
through the cowardly crew; some pursued him, but a severe sword-cut to
one of them deterred the rest. The captain ran on at great speed,
climbed up a tree, and there remained till the danger was over. His
courage and promptness saved him from any further injury than a slight
wound in the hand. Poor Waterfield’s remains, when sought for some time
afterwards, were found lying among the embers of the burned vehicle;
they were carried into Agra, and interred with military honours. The
native driver was found dead, with the head nearly severed from the
body.
Nynee Tal, Mussouree, and the other hill-stations towards which the sick
and the weak looked with so much yearning, were almost wholly free from
disturbance during May. One of the few events calling for notice was an
expedition from Huldwanee by Captain Crossman. Receiving news that two
rebel leaders, Nizam Ali Khan and Kali Khan, were preparing for mischief
at a place called Bahonee, he started off on the 8th of May, with two or
three companies of his own regiment, and a hundred Goorkhas mounted on
elephants. He missed the two leaders, but captured many other rebels,
included Kali Khan’s brother—all in the service of the notorious Khan
Bahadoor Khan, self-appointed chief of Bareilly. After burning five
rebel villages, in which great atrocities had been perpetrated against
Christians many months before, Crossman returned to Huldwanee—having
been in incessant movement for twenty-six hours.
Fortunately, the other regions of India presented so few instances—with
a notable exception, presently to be mentioned—of rebellious
proceedings, that a few paragraphs will suffice for their treatment.
During the earlier half of the month of May, minor engagements took
place in the Nagpoor territory, for the dispersion of bands of marauders
and insurgents. The rebels were so little influential, the troops sent
against them so few in number, and the towns and villages so little
known, that it is unnecessary to trace these operations in detail. The
localities concerned were Arpeillee, Ghote, Ashtee, Koonserra,
Chamoorshee, and others equally obscure. The insurgents were a
contemptible rabble, headed by refractory zemindars; but as their
country was almost a complete jungle, it was very difficult work for
Lieutenant Nuttall and Captain Crichton to put them down. The first of
these two officers had under him five companies of the Nagpoor irregular
infantry, with one gun; the other was deputy-commissioner of the
district. A party of two thousand rebels, under the zemindar of
Arpeillee—about a hundred miles south of Nagpoor—ravaged many villages;
and at one spot they brutally murdered Mr Gartlan and Mr Hall,
electric-telegraph inspectors, taking away all the public and private
property from the station. The marauders and murderers were gradually
put down; and this necessary work, though difficult from the cause above
mentioned, was facilitated by the peaceful tendencies of the villagers
generally, who rather dreaded than favoured Yenkut Rao, Bapoo Rao, and
the other rebel zemindars. It also tended to lessen the duration of the
contest, and insure its success, that Milloo Potail, and some other
chieftains, sided with the British. Bapoo Rao, the head rebel of the
district, was believed to be bending his steps towards the Nizam’s
country; but as he would there fall into the hands of an ally of the
British, little doubt was entertained that his career would soon be cut
short.
The Nizam and his prime-minister kept the large territory of Hyderabad
free from any extensive military disturbances; but the country districts
were so harassed by bands of marauding Rohilla freebooters, that the
Nizam requested the Bombay government to furnish a small force for
putting down this evil. Accordingly a corps of a few hundred men were
sent to the region between Aurungabad and Jaulnah—with very evident and
speedy effect.
It will be remembered that, in connection with the events of the month
of April, the intended disarming of the province of Gujerat was adverted
to. This critical and important operation was carried out during May.
Sir Richmond Shakespear, who held a military as well as a political
position in that province, managed the enterprise so firmly and
skilfully that village after village was disarmed, and rendered so far
powerless for mischief. Many unruly chieftains regarded this affair as
very unpalatable. It was a work of great peril, for the turbulent
natives were out of all proportion more numerous than any troops Sir
Richmond could command; but he brought to bear that wonderful influence
which many Englishmen possessed over the natives—influence shewing the
predominance of moral over physical power. The native sovereign of
Gujerat, the Guicowar, had all along been faithful and friendly to the
British; he trusted Sir Richmond Shakespear as fully as Scindia trusted
Sir Robert Hamilton, and gave an eager assent to the disarming of his
somewhat turbulent subjects. The Nizam, the Guicowar, Scindia, and
Holkar—all remained true to the British alliance during the hour of
trouble; if they had failed us, the difficulties of reconquest would
have been immensely increased, if not insuperable.
Of the Bombay presidency mention may be postponed to the chapter
relating to the month of June, so far as concerns the appearance and
suppression of slight rebellious symptoms. One of the minor events in
Bombay city at this period was the conferring of a baronetcy on a native
gentleman, the high-minded liberal Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy. He had long
before been knighted; but his continued and valuable assistance to the
government through all trials and difficulties now won for him further
honour. The Parsee merchant became Sir Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy,
Bart.—perhaps the most remarkable among baronets, race and creed
considered. Whatever he did, was done in princely style. In order that
his new hereditary dignity might not be shamed by any paucity of wealth
on the part of his descendants, he at once invested twenty-five lacs of
rupees in the Bombay four per cents., to entail an income of ten
thousand pounds a year on the holder of the baronetcy. A large mansion
at Mazagon was for a like purpose entailed; and the old merchant-prince
felt a commendable pride in thinking that Bombay might possibly, for
centuries to come, count among its inhabitants a Sir Jamsetjee
Jejeebhoy.
The reader will have observed that this chapter is silent concerning the
brilliant campaign of Sir Hugh Rose in Central India, and of the
subsidiary operations under Generals Roberts and Whitlock. It has been
considered advantageous, on account of the great importance of Sir
Hugh’s exploits, and of the intimate manner in which his proceedings in
June were determined by those of May, to treat those transactions in a
separate chapter, apart from those connected with the names of Campbell,
Lugard, Douglas, Grant, Walpole, Jones, and Penny. The narrative will
next, therefore, take up the affairs of Central India during the months
of May and June.
Note.
_Transport of Troops to India._—Early in the session of 1858, many
members of the legislature, anxious to witness the adoption of the
speediest mode of transporting troops to India, insisted not only
that the overland route viâ Suez ought to have been adopted from
the first, but also that the government and the East India Company
ought to receive national censure for their real or supposed
remissness on this point. In former chapters the fact has been
rendered evident that, among the many important questions pressed
upon the attention of the government, none was more imminent than
that which related to the mode of strengthening the British army
in India. England, not a military country in the continental
estimate of that phrase, could ill spare troops to wage a great
war in her Eastern possessions; and yet such a course was
absolutely necessary. With ninety-nine regiments of line-infantry,
and a proportionate number of troops of other kinds, she had to
defend nearly thirty colonies besides the home country. Nay, at
the very time when the mutiny began, she had barely finished a war
with Persia, and had just commenced another with China—superadded
to the defensive requirements just adverted to. Had the Persian
expedition not been brought to a successful termination in the
spring of 1857, and had the regiments destined for China become
practically engaged in hostilities in that country at that time,
it is difficult to imagine how the governor-general could have
sent up any reinforcements from Calcutta, or Lord Elphinstone from
Bombay, until summer had far advanced. Under the particular
circumstances of time and place, however, Generals Outram and
Havelock were released from their duties in Persia time enough to
conduct the important operations at Lucknow and elsewhere—bringing
with them the Queen’s troops and Company’s troops which had been
engaged in the war in that country; while, on the other side,
troops intended for service in China were rendered available for
the needs of India. Still, this did not affect the strictures
passed in the home country. Members of the legislature inquired,
and journalists inquired: ‘Why was not the overland route adopted
for or by troops sent from England?’ Hence the appointment of a
committee of the House of Commons—‘To inquire concerning the
measures resorted to, or which were available, and as to the lines
of communication adopted for reinforcing our army during the
pending Revolt in India, and report thereon to the House: with a
view to ascertaining the arrangements which should be made towards
meeting any future important emergencies involving the security of
our Eastern dominions.’
As the report given in by the committee was comprised within a few
paragraphs, we will present it unaltered here, and then touch upon a
few matters of detail connected with the subject.
The committee agreed to report:
‘1. That the inquiry which this committee has been appointed to
conduct may be divided into three branches: the first, relating to
the overland route to India; the second, to the employment of
steamers, as compared with sailing-vessels, for the transport of
troops round the Cape of Good Hope; and the third, to the use made
during the mutiny of the military resources of this country and of
the colonies.
‘2. That the Court of Directors appear, from the first intelligence
of the mutiny at Meerut, to have been sensible of the advantages of
the overland route, and to have lost no time in recommending its
adoption; but that political and other considerations deterred her
Majesty’s ministers from at once assenting to that recommendation.
‘3. That the committee cannot judge of the validity of those
political objections, as they felt themselves precluded from
inquiring into them; but that they ceased to prevail in the first
week of September, when the more serious character of the war and
the lateness of the season for ships departing for Calcutta, led to
a formal requisition from the Court of Directors, and to a
compliance with it on the part of the cabinet.
‘4. That it would have been desirable, independently of political
considerations, to have taken advantage of the overland route at the
earliest possible period; and, apart from such considerations, it is
much to be regretted that the steps that were taken in September to
transmit small bodies of troops by this route were not resorted to
at an earlier date. That the transport, however, of any large body
of troops would have required previous arrangements, and that the
evidence laid before the committee leaves great room to doubt
whether any considerable reinforcements could have been sent in the
months of July and August, with a prospect of their arrival in India
so far in advance of those sent round the Cape as to give any great
advantage in favour of this route.
‘5. That although the overland route may be advantageously employed
in times of emergency, it would not be advisable that it should be
relied upon as the ordinary route for the transmission of troops to
India.
‘6. That if steamers had been used in greater numbers, the
reinforcements would have reached India more quickly than they did
by sailing-vessels; but that no evidence has been laid before the
committee to shew that, at the time the emergency arose, a greater
amount of steam-transport was attainable; whilst it has been shewn
that grave doubts existed whether the supply of coal on the route
would have been sufficient for a larger number of steam-vessels than
were actually employed.
‘7. That steamers should for the future be always made use of, as
far as possible, in urgent cases; but that, for the transmission of
the ordinary reliefs, the committee would not recommend the adoption
of so costly a mode of transport.
‘8. That the governors of Ceylon and the Mauritius gave early and
valuable assistance to the government of India, and deserve great
praise for the zeal and promptitude with which they acted; that the
governor of the Cape, without loss of time, forwarded treasure and
horses, together with a portion of the troops at his disposal, but
that he did not send the whole amount of the force which he was
instructed by the home government to transmit to India; that the
committee have not the means of judging whether the circumstances of
the colony did or did not justify Sir George Grey in taking this
course.
‘9. That the committee observe with satisfaction that the people of
Canada displayed great readiness to afford assistance to the
mother-country, and that the committee are of opinion that it is
highly desirable to give every encouragement to such demonstrations
of loyalty on the part of the colonies.
‘10. That on the whole, considering the suddenness of the danger,
and the distance to which the troops were to be sent, the committee
are of opinion that great credit is due to the Court of Directors of
the East India Company for the promptitude and efficiency with which
they discharged the difficult task of transmitting reinforcements to
the army in India during the past year.’
From the tenor of this report, it is evident that the East India
directors were ready to adopt the overland route before the
government gave in their adhesion. The ‘political reasons’ for
avoiding that route were connected with the relations between Egypt
and various European countries: relations often involving jealousy
and diplomatic intrigue, and likely to be thrown into some
perplexity by the passage of troops belonging to another nation. The
ministers were unwilling to speak out plainly on this point,
possibly for fear of giving offence to France; and the committee,
though sorely against the wish of some of its members, refrained
from pressing them on this point; hence the cautious phraseology of
the report, throwing a sort of shield over the government.
In reference to the proceedings connected with the transport of
troops to India, it may be well to advert to a few dates. The home
government received, on the 9th of April, the first intimation that
a disaffected spirit had made its appearance among the native troops
at Barrackpore. On the 19th of May, Lord Ellenborough inquired in
the House of Lords whether reinforcements were being sent to India;
a reply in the affirmative was given, accompanied by an expression
of opinion that the disaffection was of very minor character.
Shortly afterwards, in the House of Commons, a similar belief was
expressed by members of the government that the occurrences at
Barrackpore were trifling, not likely to lead to serious results. At
that period, as we have already seen,[175] the Bengal presidency,
including the vast range of territory from Pegu to Peshawur,
contained about 23,000 European troops and 119,000 native; the
Madras presidency, 10,000 European and 50,000 native; the Bombay
presidency, 5000 European and 31,000 native—making a total of about
38,000 Company’s and Queen’s European troops, and 200,000 native.
These, the actual numbers, were exclusive of the large brigades of
the Bombay army at that time engaged in, or not yet returned from,
the Persian expedition. During May, the government and the East
India directors decided that more European troops ought to be in
India, in consideration both of the condition of India itself, and
of the incidence of war in Persia and China; and the early dispatch
of four regiments was decided on. At length, on the 27th of June,
arrived a telegram announcing the revolt at Meerut and the seizure
of Delhi by the mutineers. While Lord Elgin on the way to China,
Lord Harris at Madras, Lord Elphinstone at Bombay, Sir Henry Ward at
Ceylon, Sir James Higginson at Mauritius, and Sir George Grey at the
Cape of Good Hope, were using their best exertions to send troops to
aid Viscount Canning, the home authorities considered what best
could be done in furnishing reinforcements from England. There were
no less than 13,000 troops at the Cape of Good Hope at that time,
including ten regiments of Queen’s infantry; it was fully believed
in England that the governor might well have spared the greater
portion of these troops; and the smallness of the number really
contributed by him led to much disappointment in India, and much
adverse criticism in England.
When the authorities at the War-office commenced their arrangements
for despatching troops to India, they had to provide for a
sea-voyage of about fourteen thousand miles. A question arose
whether, without changing the route or shortening the distance, the
duration of the voyage might not be lessened by the employment of
steam-vessels instead of sailing-ships. The Admiralty, and most
members of the government, opposed this change on various grounds,
principally in relation to difficulties in the supply of fuel, but
partly in relation to monsoons and other winds. By the 10th of July,
out of 31 vessels chartered by the government and the Company for
conveying troops to India, nearly all were sailing-ships. A change
of feeling took place about that date; the nation estimated time to
be so valuable, that the authorities were almost coerced into the
chartering of some of the noble merchant-steamers, the rapid voyages
of which were already known. Between the 10th of July and the 1st of
December, 59 ships were chartered, of which 29 were screw-steamers.
The autumnal averages of passages to India were greatly in favour of
steamers. Within a certain number of weeks there were 62 troop-laden
ships despatched from England to one or other of the ports,
Calcutta, Madras, Bombay, Kurachee; the average duration of all the
voyages was 120 days by sailing-vessels, and only 83 days by
steamers—a diminution of nearly one-third. Extending the list of
ships to a later date, so as to include a greater number, it was
found that 82 ships carried 30,378 troops from the United Kingdom to
India—thus divided: 66 sailing-ships carried 16,234 men, averaging
299 each; 27 steamers carried 14,144, averaging 522 each. It was
calculated that 14,000 of these British soldiers arrived in India
_five weeks earlier_, by the adoption of steam instead of
sailing-vessels. It is impossible to estimate what amount of change
might have been produced in the aspect of Indian affairs, had these
steam-voyages been made in the summer rather than in the autumn; it
might not have been permitted to the mutineers to rule triumphant at
Lucknow till the spring of the following year, or the fidelity of
wavering chieftains to give way under the long continuance of the
struggle.
Besides the two inquiries concerning the promptness with which
troops were sent, and the kind of vessels employed to convey them,
there was a third relating to the route adopted. From the earliest
news of the revolt at Meerut, many persons in and out of parliament
strenuously recommended the use of the overland route, as being much
shorter than any possible ocean-route. The Court of Directors viewed
this proposal more favourably than the government. Until the month
of September, ‘political difficulties’ were dimly hinted at by
ministers, but without any candid explanations; and as the
objections gave way in the month just named, the nation arrived at a
pretty general conclusion that these difficulties had never been of
a very insurmountable character. It is only fair to state, however,
that many experienced men viewed the overland route with distrust,
independently of any political considerations. They adverted to the
incompleteness of the railway arrangements between Alexandria and
Cairo; to the difficulty of troops marching or riding over the sandy
desert from Cairo to Suez; to the wretchedness of Suez as a place of
re-embarkation; and to the unhealthiness of a voyage down the Red
Sea in hot summer weather. Nevertheless, it was an important fact
that the East India directors, most of whom possessed personal
knowledge concerning the routes to India, urged the government from
the first to send at least a portion of the troops by the Suez
route. It was not until the 19th of September that assent was given;
and the 13th of October witnessed the arrival of the first
detachment of English troops into the Indian Ocean _viâ_ Suez. These
started from Malta on the 1st of the month. On the 2d of October,
the first regiment started from England direct, to take the overland
route to India. The Peninsular and Oriental Steam-navigation
Company, having practically almost a monopoly of the Suez route,
conveyed the greater portion of the troops sent in this way; and it
may be useful to note the length of journey in the principal
instances. The following are tabulated examples giving certain
items—such as, the name of the steamer, the date of leaving England,
the number of troops conveyed, and the time of reaching Alexandria,
to commence the overland portion of the journey:
Steamer. Left England. No. of Days to
Troops. Alexandria.
_Sultan_, 1857. Oct. 2 248 13 days.
_Dutchman_, Oct. 14 256 17 days.
_Sultan_, Nov. 17 264 14 days.
_Euxine_, Dec. 2 236 15 days.
_Indus_, Dec. 4 83 14 days.
_Abeona_, Dec. 8 861 15 days.
_Pera_, 1858. Feb. 4 231 15 days.
_Ripon_, Feb. 11 242 15 days.
_Sultan_, Feb. 24 244 13 days.
_Malabar_, Mar. 11 264 14 days.
_Ripon_, Mar. 27 420 14 days.
_Benares_, Apr. 8 607 17 days.
Thus the voyage was made on an average in about 14½ days, from the
shores of England to those of Egypt. The landing at Alexandria, the
railway journey to Cairo, the journey by vans and donkeys across the
desert, the short detention at Suez, and the embarkation in another
steamer at that port, occupied a number of days varying from 2 to
17—depending chiefly on the circumstance whether or not a steamer
was ready at Suez to receive the troops when they arrived from
Alexandria; the average was about 5½ days. From Suez the voyages
were made to Kurachee, Bombay, Ceylon, Madras, or Calcutta. The
steamers took forward all the troops mentioned in the above list, as
well as others which reached Alexandria by other means. Most of
these troops were landed at Bombay or Kurachee, as being nearer than
Calcutta; and the average length of voyage was just 16 days. The
result, then, presented was this:
England to Alexandria, 14½ days’ average.
Alexandria to Suez, 5½ days’ average.
Suez to India, 16 days’ average.
———
36 days’ average.
Those which went to Calcutta instead of Bombay or Kurachee, were
about 3 days longer. Comparing these figures with those before
given, we arrive at the following remarkable conclusion:
Sailing-ships round Cape, 120 days’ average.
Steamers round Cape, 83 days’ average.
Suez route, 36 days’ average.
This, as a question of time, triumphantly justified all that had
been said by the advocates of the shortest route; nor did it appear
that there were any counterbalancing disadvantages experienced.
Between the 6th of November 1857, and the 18th of May 1858, more
than 5000 officers and soldiers landed in India, who had travelled
by the Suez overland route from England.
[Illustration]
-----
Footnote 171:
‘With the concurrence of the government, the commander-in-chief is
pleased to direct that white clothing shall be discontinued in the
European regiments of the Honourable Company’s army; and that for the
future the summer-clothing of the European soldiers shall consist of
two suits of “khakee,” corresponding in pattern and material with the
clothing recently sanctioned for the royal army of England. Corps are
to be permitted to wear out serviceable summer-clothing of the old
pattern now in use; but in regiments in which this clothing requires
to be renewed, the new pattern now established is to be introduced
without delay. Commanding officers will take steps to obtain patterns
from regiments of her Majesty’s service. A complete suit, including
cap-cover, should not exceed in cost 4-12 rupees. The summer-clothing
now authorised will be supplied from the clothing agency of the
presidency to all recruits of the Company’s service arriving at
Calcutta between 1st February and 1st October, to be issued with the
least possible delay after arrival of the recruits.’
Footnote 172:
_Cavalry._—_1st Brigade_, under Brigadier Jones (6th Dragoon Guards).
Head-quarters and two squadrons 6th Dragoon Guards, under Captain
Bickerstaff; Captain Lind’s Moultanee horse. _2d Brigade_, under
Brigadier Hagart (7th Hussars). Her Majesty’s 9th Lancers, under Major
Coles; 2d Punjaub cavalry, under Major S. Browne; detachments of
Lahore light horse, 1st Punjaub cavalry, 5th Punjaub cavalry, and 17th
irregular cavalry.
_Artillery._—Under Lieutenant-colonel Brind, C.B., B.A.;
Lieutenant-colonel Tombs’s troop, B.H.A.; Lieutenant-colonel
Remington’s troop, B.H.A.; Major Hammond’s light field-battery, B.A.,
four guns; two heavy field-batteries. Captain Francis, B.A.;
siege-train with Major Le Mesurier’s company, B.A., under Captain
Cookworthy’s detachment, B.A.; detachment R.E. Bengal and Punjaub;
Sappers and Miners, under Lieutenant-colonel Harness, R.E.,
chief-engineer to the force.
_Infantry._—_Highland Brigade_, under Lieutenant-colonel Leith Hay,
C.B. (her Majesty’s 92d Highlanders). Her Majesty’s 42d Highlanders,
under Lieutenant-colonel Cameron; her Majesty’s 79th Highlanders,
under Lieutenant-colonel Taylor, C.B.; her Majesty’s 93d Highlanders,
under Lieutenant-colonel Ross; 4th Punjaub Rifles, Lieutenant M’Queen;
Belooch Battalion, Captain Beville. _Brigadier Stisted’s_ (70th)
_Brigade_. Seven companies her Majesty’s 64th foot, Lieutenant-colonel
Bingham, C.B.; her Majesty’s 78th Highlanders, Colonel Hamilton; 4
companies her Majesty’s 82 foot, Colonel the Hon. P. Herbert, C.B.; 2d
Punjaub infantry, Lieutenant-colonel Greene; 22d Punjaub infantry,
Captain Stafford.
Footnote 173:
‘The commander-in-chief has received the most gracious commands of her
Majesty the Queen to communicate to the army an expression of the deep
interest felt by the Queen in the exertions of the troops, and the
successful progress of the campaign.
‘Sir Colin Campbell has delayed giving execution to the royal command,
until he was able to announce to the army that the last stronghold of
rebellion had fallen before the persevering attempts of the troops of
her Majesty and the Hon. East India Company.
‘It is impossible for the commander-in-chief to express adequately his
sense of the high honour done to him in having been chosen by the
Queen to convey her Majesty’s most gracious acknowledgments to the
army, in the ranks of which he has passed his life.
‘The commander-in-chief ventures to quote the very words of the Queen:
‘“That so many gallant, brave, and distinguished men, beginning with
one whose name will ever be remembered with pride, Brigadier-general
Havelock, should have died and fallen, is a great grief to the Queen.
To all Europeans and native troops who have fought so nobly and so
gallantly—and amongst whom the Queen is rejoiced to see the 93d—the
Queen wishes Sir Colin to convey the expression of her great
admiration and gratitude.”’
Footnote 174:
See Chap. viii., p. 138.
Footnote 175:
Chapter xii., p. 208.
[Illustration:
SIR HUGH ROSE.
]
CHAPTER XXX.
ROSE’S VICTORIES AT CALPEE AND GWALIOR.
The fame of Sir Hugh Rose came somewhat unexpectedly upon the British
people. Although well known to persons connected with India as a gallant
officer belonging to the Bombay army, Rose’s military services were not
‘household words’ in the mother-country. Henry Havelock had made himself
the hero of the wars of the mutiny by victories won in a time when the
prospects were stern and gloomy; and it was not easy for others to
become heroes of like kind, when compared in the popular mind with such
a noble soldier. Hence it may possibly be that the relative merits of
Campbell, Havelock, Neill, Wilson, Nicholson, Outram, Hope Grant,
Inglis, Rose, Roberts, Napier, Eyre, Greathed, Jones, Smith, Lugard, and
other officers, as military leaders, will remain undecided for a long
period—until dispatches, memoirs, and journals have thrown light on the
minuter details of the operations. Be this as it may, Sir Hugh Rose won
for himself a high name by a series of military exploits skilfully
conceived and brilliantly executed.
To understand the true scope of Rose’s proceedings in the months of May
and June, it may be well to recapitulate briefly the state of matters at
the close of the preceding month.
After Sir Hugh—with the 1st brigade of his Central India Field-force
under Brigadier Stuart, and the 2d brigade under Brigadier Steuart—had
captured the important city of Jhansi, in the early part of April, his
subsequent proceedings were determined according to the manœuvres of the
rebels elsewhere. Jhansi, as the strongest and most important place in
Bundelcund, was a valuable conquest; but as the Ranee and Tanteea
Topee—the one chieftainess of Jhansi, and the other a representative of
the Mahratta influence of Nena Sahib in these parts—had escaped, with
the greater part of their rebel troops, it became necessary to continue
the attack against them wherever they might be. The safety of Jhansi,
the succour of the sick and wounded, and the reconstruction of his
field-force, detained Rose in that city until the 25th of the month; but
Majors Orr and Gall were in the interim actively employed in chasing and
defeating various bodies of rebels in the surrounding country. Orr was
sent from Jhansi across the river Betwah to Mhow, to clear that region
from insurgents, and then to join Rose on the way to Calpee; he captured
a small fort at Goorwai, near the Betwah, and kept a sharp watch on the
proceedings of the rebel Rajahs of Banpore and Shagurh. Gall, with two
squadrons of the 14th Dragoons and three 9-pounders, was commissioned to
reconnoitre the position and proceedings of the rebels on the Calpee
road; he captured the fort of Lohare, belonging to the insurgent Rajah
of Sumpter. Hearing that Tanteea Topee, Ram Rao Gobind, and other
leaders, had made Calpee a stronghold, and intended to dispute the
passage of the road from Jhansi to that place, Rose laid his plans
accordingly. Calpee, though not a large place, was important as being on
the right bank of the Jumna, and on the main road from Jhansi to
Cawnpore. During the later days of April, Sir Hugh was on the road to
Calpee with the greater part of his two brigades; the rest of his
troops, under Orr, Gall, and one or two other officers, being engaged in
detached services. At that same time, General Whitlock, after defeating
many bodies of rebels in and near the Banda district, was gradually
tending towards a junction with Rose at Calpee; while General Roberts
was at Kotah, keeping a vigilant eye on numerous turbulent bands in
Rajpootana.
When May arrived, Sir Hugh, needing the services of Majors Orr and Gall
with his main force, requested General Whitlock to watch the districts
in which those two officers had been engaged. Being joined on the 8th by
his second brigade (except the regiments and detachments left to guard
Jhansi), he resumed his march on the 9th. News reached him that Tanteea
Topee and the Ranee intended to dispute his passage towards Calpee at a
place called Koonch, with a considerable force of cavalry and infantry.
As soon as he arrived at Koonch, he engaged the enemy, drove them from
their intrenchment, entered the town, cut them up severely, pursued them
to a considerable distance, and captured several guns. The heat on this
occasion was fearful. Rose himself was three times during the day
disabled by the sun, but on each occasion rallied, and was able to
remount; he caused buckets of cold water to be dashed on him, and then
resumed the saddle, all wet as he was. Thirteen of his gallant but
overwrought soldiers were killed by sun-stroke. Nothing daunted by this
severe ordeal, he marched on to Hurdwee, Corai, Ottah, and other
villages obscure to English readers, capturing a few more guns as he
went. Guided by the information which reached him concerning the
proceedings of the rebels, Sir Hugh, when about ten miles from Calpee,
bent his line of march slightly to the west, in order to strike the
Jumna near Jaloun, a little to the northwest of Calpee. He had also
arranged that Colonel Riddell, with a column from Etawah, should move
down upon Calpee from the north; that Colonel Maxwell, with a column
from Cawnpore, should advance from the east; and that General Whitlock
should watch the country at the south. The purpose of this combination
evidently was, not only that Calpee should be taken, but that all
outlets for the escape of the rebels should as far as possible be
closed.
On the 15th, the two brigades of Rose’s force joined at a point about
six miles from Calpee. A large mass of the enemy here made a dash at the
baggage and rear-guard, but were driven off without effecting much
mischief. When he reached the Jumna, Rose determined to encamp for a
while in a well-watered spot; and was enabled, by a personal visit from
Colonel Maxwell, to concert further plans with him, to be put in force
on the arrival of Maxwell’s column. On the 16th, a strong reconnoitring
column under Major Gall proceeded along the Calpee road; it consisted of
various detachments of infantry, cavalry, and horse-artillery. On the
same day, the second brigade was attacked by the enemy in great force,
and was not relieved without a sharp skirmish. On the 17th, the enemy
made another attack, which was, however, repulsed with less difficulty.
Nena Sahib’s nephew was believed to be the leader of the rebels on these
two occasions. It was not until the 18th that Rose could begin shelling
the earthworks which they had thrown up in front of the town. Greatly to
their astonishment, the enemy found that Maxwell arrived at the opposite
bank of the Jumna on the 19th, to assist in bombarding the place; they
apparently had not expected this, and were not prepared with defences on
that side. On the 20th, they came out in great force on the hills and
nullahs around the town, attempted to turn the flank of Sir Hugh’s
position, and displayed a determination and perseverance which they had
not hitherto exhibited; but they were, as usual, driven in again. On the
21st, a portion of Maxwell’s column crossed the Jumna and joined Rose;
while his heavy artillery and mortars were got into position. On the
22d, Maxwell’s batteries opened fire across the river, and continued it
throughout the night, while Sir Hugh was making arrangements for the
assault. The rebels, uneasy at the prospect before them, and needing
nothing but artillery to reply to Maxwell’s fire, resolved to employ the
rest of their force in a vigorous attack on Rose’s camp at Gulowlie.
Accordingly, on that same day, the 22d, they issued forth from Calpee in
great force, and attacked him with determination. Rose’s right being
hard pressed by them, he brought up his reserve corps, charged with the
bayonet, and repulsed the assailants at that point. Then moving his
whole line forward, he put the enemy completely to rout. In these
assaults, the rebels had the advantage of position; the country all
round Calpee was very rugged and uneven, with steep ravines and numerous
nullahs; insomuch that Rose had much difficulty in bringing his
artillery into position. The assaults were made by numbers estimated at
not far less than fifteen thousand men. The 71st and 86th foot wrought
terrible destruction amongst the dense masses of the enemy. About noon
on the 23d, the victorious Sir Hugh marched on from Gulowlie to Calpee.
The enemy, who were reported to have chosen Calpee as a last
stand-point, and to have sworn either to destroy Sir Hugh’s army or to
die in the attempt, now forgot their oath; they fled panic-stricken
after firing a few shot, and left him master of the town and fort of
Calpee. This evacuation was hastened by the effect of Maxwell’s
bombardment from the other side of the river.
Throughout the whole of the wars of the mutiny, the mutineers succeeded
in escaping after defeat; they neither surrendered as prisoners of war,
nor remained in the captured towns to be slaughtered. They were nimble
and on the watch, knew the roads and jungles well, and had generally
good intelligence of what was going on; while the British were seldom or
never in such force as to be enabled completely to surround the places
besieged: as a consequence, each siege ended in a flight. Thus it had
been in Behar, Oude, the Doab, and Rohilcund; and thus Rose and his
coadjutors found it in Bundelcund, Rajpootana, and Central India. Sir
Hugh had given his troops a few hours’ repose after the hot work of the
22d; and this respite seems to have encouraged the rebels to flee from
the beleaguered town; but they would probably have succeeded in doing
the same thing, though with greater loss, if he had advanced at once.
The British had lost about forty commissariat carts, laden with tea,
sugar, arrack, and medical comforts; but their loss in killed and
wounded throughout these operations was very inconsiderable.
Sir Hugh Rose inferred, from the evidences presented to his notice, that
the rebels had considered Calpee an arsenal and a point of great
importance. Fifteen guns were kept in the fort, of which one was an
18-pounder of the Gwalior Contingent, and two others 9-pounder mortars
made by the rebels. Twenty-four standards were found, one of which had
belonged to the Kotah Contingent, while most of the rest were the
colours of the several regiments of the Gwalior Contingent. A
subterranean magazine was found to contain ten thousand pounds of
English powder in barrels, nine thousand pounds of shot and empty
shells, a quantity of eight-inch filled shrapnell-shells, siege and ball
ammunition, intrenching tools of all kinds, tents new and old, boxes of
new flint and percussion muskets, and ordnance stores of all kinds—worth
several lacs of rupees. There were also three or four cannon foundries
in the town, with all the requisites for a wheel and gun-carriage
manufactory. In short, it was an arsenal, which the rebels hoped and
intended to hold to the last; but Sir Hugh’s victory at Gulowlie, and
his appearance at Calpee, gave them a complete panic: they thought more
of flight than of fighting.
The question speedily arose, however—Whither had the rebels gone? Their
losses were very large, but the bulk of the force had unquestionably
escaped. Some, it was found, had crossed the Jumna into the Doab, by a
bridge of boats which had eluded the search of the British; but the
rest, enough to form an army of no mean strength, finding that Rose had
not fully guarded the side of Calpee leading to Gwalior, retreated by
that road with amazing celerity. Sir Hugh thereupon organised a flying
column to pursue them, under the command of Colonel Robertson. This
column did not effect much, owing in part to the proverbial celerity of
the rebels, and in part also to difficulties of other kinds. Heavy rains
on the first two days rendered the roads almost impassable, greatly
retarding the progress of the column. The enemy attempted to make a
stand at Mahona and Indoorkee, two places on the road; but when they
heard of the approach of Robertson, they continued their retreat in the
direction of Gwalior. The column reached Irawan on the 29th; and there a
brief halt was made until commissariat supplies could be sent up from
Calpee. An officer belonging to the column adverted, in a private
letter, to certain symptoms that the villagers were becoming tired of
the anarchy into which their country had been thrown. ‘The feeling of
the country is strong against the rebels now, whatever it may have been;
and the rural population has welcomed our advent in the most
unmistakable manner. At the different villages as we go along, many of
them come out and meet us with earthen vessels full of water, knowing it
to be our greatest want in such weather; and at our camping-ground they
furnish us voluntarily with supplies of grain, grass, &c., in the most
liberal manner. They declare the rebels plundered them right and left,
and that they are delighted to have the English raj once more. It is not
only the inhabitants of the towns and villages where we encamp who are
so anxious to evince their good feeling; but the people, for miles
round, have been coming to make their salaam, bringing forage for our
camp with them, and thanking us for having delivered them from their
oppressors. They say that for a year they have had no peace; but they
have now a hope that order will be once more restored.’ Concerning this
statement it may suffice to remark, that though the villagers were
unquestionably in worse plight under the rebels than under the British,
their obsequious protestations to that effect were not always to be
depended on; their fears gave them duplicity, inducing them to curry
favour with whichever side happened at the moment to be greatest in
power.
Colonel Robertson, though he inflicted some loss on the fugitives, did
not materially check them. His column—comprising the 25th Bombay native
infantry, the 3d Bombay native cavalry, and 150 Hyderabad horse—pursued
the rebels on the Gwalior road, but did not come up with the main body.
On the 2d of June he was joined by two squadrons of the 14th dragoons, a
wing of the 86th foot, and four 9-pounders. On the next day, when at
Moharar, about midway between Calpee and Gwalior (fifty-five miles from
each) he heard news of startling import from the last-named
city—presently to be noticed. About the same time Brigadier Steuart
marched to Attakona on the Gwalior road, with H.M. 71st, a wing of the
86th, a squadron of the 14th Dragoons, and some guns, to aid in the
pursuit of the rebels.
While these events were in progress on the south of the Jumna, Colonel
Riddell was advancing from the northwest on the north side of the same
river. On the 16th of May, Riddell was at Graya, with the 3d Bengal
Europeans, Alexander’s Horse, and two guns; he had a smart skirmish with
a party of rebels, who received a very severe defeat. Some of the Etawah
troops floated down the Jumna in boats, under the charge of Mr Hume, a
magistrate, and safely joined Sir Hugh at Calpee. On their way they were
attacked by a body of insurgents much more numerous than themselves;
whereupon Lieutenant Sheriff landed with a hundred and fifty men at
Bhijulpore, brought the rebels to an engagement, defeated them, drove
them off, and captured four guns with a large store of ammunition. On
the 25th, when on the banks of the Jumna some distance above Calpee,
Colonel Riddell saw a camp of rebels on the other side, evidently
resting a while after their escape on the 23d; he sent the 2d Bengal
Europeans across, and captured much of the camp-equipage—the enemy not
waiting to contest the matter with him.
When Calpee had been securely taken, and flying columns had gone off in
pursuit of the enemy, to disperse if not to capture, Sir Hugh Rose
conceived that the arduous labours of his Central India Field-force were
for a time ended, and that his exhausted troops might take rest. He
issued to them a glowing address, adverting with commendable pride to
the unswerving gallantry which they had so long exhibited: ‘Soldiers!
you have marched more than a thousand miles, and taken more than a
hundred guns. You have forced your way through mountain-passes and
intricate jungles, and over rivers. You have captured the strongest
forts, and beaten the enemy, no matter what the odds, whenever you met
him. You have restored extensive districts to the government, and peace
and order now where before for a twelvemonth were tyranny and rebellion.
You have done all this, and you never had a check. I thank you with all
sincerity for your bravery, your devotion, and your discipline. When you
first marched, I told you that you, as British soldiers, had more than
enough of courage for the work which was before you, but that courage
without discipline was of no avail; and I exhorted you to let discipline
be your watchword. You have attended to my orders. In hardships, in
temptations and danger, you have obeyed your general, and you have never
left your ranks; you have fought against the strong, and you have
protected the rights of the weak and defenceless, of foes as well as of
friends. I have seen you in the ardour of the combat preserve and place
children out of harm’s way. This is the discipline of Christian
soldiers, and it is what has brought you triumphant from the shores of
Western India to the waters of the Jumna, and establishes without doubt
that you will find no place to equal the glory of your arms.’
Little did the gallant Sir Hugh suspect that the very day on which he
issued this hearty and well-merited address (the 1st of June) would be
marked by the capture of Gwalior by the defeated Calpee rebels, the
flight of Scindia to Agra, and the necessity for an immediate resumption
of active operations by his unrested Central India Field-force.
The rebels, it afterwards appeared, having out-marched Colonel
Robertson, arrived on the 30th of May at the Moorar cantonment, in the
neighbourhood of Gwalior, the old quarters of the Gwalior Contingent.
Tanteea Topee, a leader whose activity was worthy of a better cause, had
preceded them, to tamper with Scindia’s troops. The Maharajah, when he
heard news of the rebels’ approach, sent an urgent message to Agra for
aid; but before aid could reach him, matters had arrived at a crisis.
The position of the Maharajah of Gwalior had all along been a remarkable
and perilous one, calling for the exercise of an amount of sagacity and
prudence rarely exhibited by so youthful a prince. Although only
twenty-three years of age, he had been for five years Maharajah in his
own right, after shaking off a regency that had inflicted much misery on
his country; and during these five years his conduct had won the respect
of the British authorities. The mutiny placed him in an embarrassing
position. The Gwalior Contingent, kept up by him in accordance with a
treaty with the Company, consisted mainly of Hindustanis and Oudians,
strongly in sympathy with their compatriots in the Jumna and Ganges
regions. His own independent army, it is true, consisted chiefly of
Mahrattas, a Hindoo race having little in common with the Hindustanis;
but he could not feel certain how long either of the two armies would
remain faithful. After many doubtful symptoms, in July 1857, as we have
seen in former chapters, the Gwalior Contingent went over in a body to
the enemy—thus adding ten or twelve thousand disciplined and well-armed
troops to the rebel cause. Scindia contrived for two or three months to
remain on neutral terms with the Contingent—on the one hand, not
sanctioning their proceedings: on the other, not bringing down their
enmity upon himself. During the winter they were engaged in encounters
at various places, which have been duly noticed in the proper chapters.
When Sir Hugh Rose’s name had become as much known and feared in Central
India as Havelock’s had been in the Northwest Provinces many months
before, the rebels began to look to Gwalior, the strongest city in that
part of India, as a possible place of permanent refuge; and many of the
Mahratta and Rajpoot chieftains appear to have come to an agreement,
that if Scindia would not join them against the British, they would
attack him, dethrone him, and set up another Maharajah in his stead.
Meanwhile the Gwalior prince, a brave and shrewd man, as well as a
faithful ally, looked narrowly at the circumstances that surrounded him.
He had some cause to suspect his own national or regular army, but
deemed it best to conceal his suspicions. There was every cause for
apprehension, therefore, on his part, when he found a large body of
insurgent troops approaching his capital—especially as some of the
regiments of the old Gwalior Contingent were among the number.
Although aid from Agra or Calpee had not arrived, Scindia had courage
and skill enough to make a bold stand against them, if his own troops
had proved faithful; but treachery effected that which fair fighting
might not easily have done. Scindia’s body-guard remained faithful. Such
was not, however, the case with the bulk of his infantry, who had been
tampered with by Tanteea Topee, and had agreed to desert their sovereign
in his hour of greatest need. This was doubtless the motive of the rebel
leader in preceding the march of the Calpee fugitives. When the struggle
began, Scindia’s force comprised two or three thousand cavalry, six
thousand infantry, and eight guns; that of the enemy consisted of four
thousand cavalry, seven thousand infantry, and twelve guns—no
overwhelming disparity, if Scindia’s own troops had been true. The
rebels did not want for leaders; seeing that they had the Ranee of
Jhansi, the Nawab of Banda, Tanteea Topee, Rao Sahib, Ram Rao Gobind,
and Luchmun Nena. Rao Sahib, nephew of the Nena, was the nominal leader
of the Mahrattas in this motley force; but Tanteea Topee was really the
man of action and power. Certainly the most remarkable among the number
was the Ranee of Jhansi, a woman who—but for her cruelty to the English
at that station—would command something like respect. Whether she had
been unjustly treated by the Company, in relation to the ‘annexations’
in former years, was one among many questions of a similar kind on which
opinions were divided; but supposing her to be sincere in a belief that
territory had been wrongly taken from her, then did her conduct (barring
her cruelty and her unbounded licentiousness) bear something like the
stamp of heroism. At anyrate, she proved herself a very Amazon in these
warlike contests—riding like a man, bearing arms like a man, leading and
fighting like a man, and exhorting her troops to contend to the last
against the hated Feringhees.
The battle between the Maharajah and the insurgents was of brief
duration. The enemy, at about seven o’clock on the morning of the 1st of
June, made their appearance in battle-array. Scindia took up a position
about two miles eastward of the Moorar cantonment; placing his troops in
three divisions, of which the centre was commanded by him in person. The
rebels pushed on a cloud of mounted skirmishers, with zumborucks or
camel-guns; these were steadily confronted by Scindia’s centre division.
But now did the treachery appear. It is not quite clear whether the
right and left divisions of his force remained idle during the fighting
of the centre division, waited for the capture of guns as a signal for
revolt, marched over to the opposite side, and began to fire on such of
their astonished companions as still remained true to Scindia; or
whether the left division went over at the commencement of the fighting,
and was followed soon after by the right; but at anyrate the centre,
comprising the body-guard with some other troops, could not long contend
against such immense odds. The body-guard fought manfully until half
their number had fallen, and the rest fled. Scindia himself, too,
powerless against such numerous opponents, sought safety in flight, and
fortunately found it. Attended by a few faithful troops, the Maharajah
galloped off by way of the Saugor Tal, the Residency, and the Phool
Bagh, avoiding the Lashkar or permanent camp of his (late) army; he then
took to the open country, by the Dholpore road, and reached Agra two
days afterwards. The rebels sent a troop of cavalry sixteen or eighteen
miles in pursuit, but he happily kept ahead of them. Most of the members
of his family fled to Seepree, while his courtiers were scattered in all
directions.
Directly the Maharajah had thus been driven out of his capital, the
rebels entered Gwalior, and endeavoured to form a regular government.
They chose Nena Sahib as ‘Peishwa,’ or head of all the Mahratta princes.
They next set up Rao Sahib, the Nena’s nephew, as chief of Gwalior.
These selections appear to have been assented to by Scindia’s traitorous
troops as well as by the other rebels. All the troops were to have a
certain number of months’ pay for their services in this achievement.
The army was nevertheless the great difficulty to be contended against
by the rebel leaders. The insurgents from Calpee, and the newly revolted
troops of Scindia, had worked together for a common object in this
instance; but there was jealousy between them; and nothing could make
them continue together without the liberal distribution of money—partly
as arrears of pay, partly as an advance. Ram Rao Gobind, who had long
before been discharged from Scindia’s service for dishonesty, became
prime-minister. The main bulk of the army, under the masculine Ranee of
Jhansi, remained encamped in a garden called the Phool Bagh, outside the
city; while pickets and guns were sent to guard all the roads of
approach. The property of the principal inhabitants was sequestered, in
real or pretended punishment for friendliness towards the Maharajah and
the British. Scindia possessed an immense treasure in his palace, which
he could not take away in his flight; this the rebels seized, by the
connivance of the truculent treasurer, Ameerchand Batya; and it was out
of this treasure they were enabled to reward the troops. They also
declared a formal confiscation of all the royal property. Four petty
Mahratta chieftains in the district of Shakerwarree—named Kunughat,
Gholab Singh, Dooghur Shah, and Bukhtawar Singh—had some time previously
declared themselves independent, and had been captured and imprisoned by
Scindia for so doing; these men were now set at liberty by the newly
constituted authorities, and received insignia and dresses of honour, on
condition of raising forces in their several localities to oppose any
British troops who might attempt to cross the Chumbul and approach
Gwalior. The leaders mustered and reviewed their troops, plundered and
burnt the civil station, and liberated such prisoners as they thought
might be useful to them. They also sent letters of invitation to the
Rajahs of Banpore, Shagurh, &c., to join them.
Thus did a body of rebels, collected from different quarters, and
actuated by different motives, expel the Maharajah Scindia from the
throne of Gwalior, and install a government avowedly and bitterly
hostile to him and to the British with whom he was in alliance.
Throughout twelve months’ events at Gwalior, the more experienced of the
Company’s officers frequently directed their attention to a certain
member of Scindia’s family, in doubt whether treachery might have been
exhibited in that quarter. This was a princess, advanced in life, whose
influence at Gwalior was known to be considerable, and whose experience
of the checkered politics of Indian princedoms had extended over a very
lengthened period. She was known as the Baeza Baee of Gwalior. Sixty
years before the mutiny began, she was the beauty of the Deccan, the
young bride of the victorious Dowlut Rao Scindia of 1797; and she lived
through all the vicissitudes of those sixty years. During thirty years
of married life she exercised great influence over her husband and the
court of Gwalior, exhibiting more energy of purpose than is wont among
eastern women. In 1827 Scindia died without a legitimate son; and the
widow, in accordance with Indian custom, adopted a kinsman of the late
Maharajah to be the new Scindia. The Baeza Baee as regent, and Moodkee
Rao as expectant rajah, had many quarrels during the next seven years:
these ended, in 1834, in the installation of the young man as rajah, and
in the retirement of the widowed princess to Dholpore. Tumults
continued; for the princess was considered the more skilful ruler of the
two, and many of the Mahrattas of Gwalior wished her to continue as
regent. Whether from justice, or from motives of cold policy, the
British government sided with Scindia against the Baeza Baee; and she
was ordered to take up her abode in some district beyond the limits of
the Gwalior territory. In 1843, when Moodkee Rao Scindia died, this
territory came more closely than before under British influence; a new
Scindia was chosen, with the consent of the governor-general, from among
the relations of the deceased Maharajah; and with this new Scindia the
aged Baeza Baee appears to have resided until the time of the mutiny.
Nothing unfavourable was known against this venerable lady; but when it
was considered that she was a woman of great energy, and that many other
native princesses of great energy—such as the Ranee of Jhansi and the
Begum of Oude—had thrown their influence in the scale against the
English, it was deemed proper to watch her movements. And this the more
especially, as she had some cause to complain of the English policy in
the Mahratta dominions in past years. Although watched, however, nothing
appeared to justify suspicion of her complicity with the rebels.
Great was the anxiety at all the British stations when the news arrived
that Gwalior, the strongest and most important city in Central India,
and the capital of a native sovereign uniformly true to the British
alliance, had fallen into the hands of the rebels. In many minds a
desponding feeling was at once manifest; while those who did not despond
freely acknowledged that the situation was a critical one, calling for
the exercise of promptness, skill, and courage. All felt that the
conqueror of Jhansi and Calpee was the fit man to undertake the
reconquest of Gwalior, both from his military fame and from the
circumstances of his position—having around him many columns and corps
which he could bring to one centre. It was in the true spirit of heroism
that Sir Hugh Rose laid aside all thoughts of self when the exigencies
of the service called for his attention. He had won a complete victory
at Calpee, and believed that in so doing he had crushed the rebels in
Bundelcund and Scindia’s territory. Then, and then only, did he think of
himself—of his exhausted frame, his mind worn by six months of
unremitting duty, his brain fevered by repeated attacks of sun-stroke in
the fearful heat of that climate. He knew that he had honestly done his
part, and that he might with the consent of every one claim an exemption
for a time from active service. He intended to go down to Bombay on
sick-certificate—after having sent off a column in pursuit of the
fleeing rebels, and made arrangements for his successor. Such were Sir
Hugh’s thoughts when June opened. The startling news from Gwalior,
however, overturned all his plans. When he found that Scindia’s capital
was in the hands of the insurgents whom he had so recently beaten at
Calpee, all thoughts concerning fatigue and heat, anxiety and sickness,
were promptly dismissed from his mind. He determined to finish the work
he had begun, by reconquering the great Mahratta city. No time was to be
lost. Every day that Gwalior remained in the hands of the rebels would
weaken the British prestige, and add strength to the audacity of the
rebels.
Sir Hugh’s first measure was to request the presence of General Whitlock
at Calpee, to hold that place safely during the operations further
westward. Whitlock was at Moudha, between Banda and Humeerpoor, when he
heard the news; he at once advanced towards Calpee by the ford of the
Betwah at Humeerpoor. Rose’s next step was to organise two brigades for
rapid march to Gwalior. Of those brigades the infantry consisted of H.M.
86th foot, a wing of the 71st Highlanders, a wing of the 3d Bombay
Europeans, the 24th and 25th Bombay native infantry, and the 5th
Hyderabad infantry; the cavalry comprised wings of the 4th and 14th
Dragoons, the 3d Hyderabad cavalry, and a portion of the 3d Bombay
native cavalry; the artillery and engineers consisted of a company of
the Royal Engineers, Bombay Sappers and Miners, Madras Sappers and
Miners, two light field-batteries, Leslie’s troop of Bombay
horse-artillery, and a siege-train consisting of two 16-pounders, three
18-pounders, eight 8-inch mortars, two 10-inch mortars, and one 8-inch
howitzer. The first of these two brigades was placed under the command
of Brigadier C. S. Stuart, of the Bombay army; the second under
Brigadier R. Napier, of the Bengal Engineers. Arrangements were made for
the co-operation of a third brigade from Seepree, under Brigadier Smith.
Orders were at the same time given for bringing up Major Orr’s column
from the south, and for joining it with Smith’s brigade somewhere on the
road to Gwalior; Colonel Maxwell, with the 5th Fusiliers and the 88th
foot, was invited to advance from Cawnpore to Calpee; while Colonel
Riddell was instructed to cross the Chumbul with his Etawah column. Rose
did not know what might be the number of insurgents against whom he
would have to contend when he reached Gwalior, and on that account he
called in reinforcements from various quarters.
Pushing on his two main brigades as rapidly as possible, Sir Hugh
appeared in the vicinity of Gwalior on the ninth day after leaving
Calpee—allowing his troops no more rest by the way than was absolutely
needed. On the evening of the 15th of June he was at Sepowlie, about ten
miles from the Moorar cantonment; and by six o’clock on the following
morning he reached the cantonment itself. Sir Hugh galloped forward with
his staff to a point about midway between the cantonment and the city;
and there began to reconnoitre the position taken up by the enemy.
Gwalior is very remarkable as a military position, owing to the relation
which the city bears to a strong and lofty hill-fort. ‘The rock on which
the hill-fort is situated,’ says Mr Thornton, ‘is completely isolated;
though seven hundred yards to the north is a conical hill surmounted by
a very remarkable building of stone; and on the southeast, south, and
southwest, are similar hills, which form a sort of amphitheatre at the
distance of from one to four miles. The sandstone of the hill-fort is
arranged in horizontal strata, and its face presents so steep a fracture
as to form a perpendicular precipice. Where the rock was naturally less
precipitous, it has been so scarped as to be rendered perpendicular; and
in some places the upper part considerably overhangs the lower. The
greatest length of the rock, which is from northeast to southwest, is a
mile and a half; the greatest breadth three hundred yards. The height at
the south end, where it is greatest, is 342 feet. On the eastern face of
the rock, several colossal figures are sculptured in bold relief. A
rampart runs round the edge of the rock, conforming to the outline of
its summit; and as its height is uniform above the verge, its top has an
irregular appearance. The entrance within the enclosure of the rampart
is towards the north end of the east side; first, by means of a steep
road, and higher up by steps cut in the face of the rock, of such a size
and of so moderate a degree of acclivity that elephants easily make
their way up. This huge staircase is protected on the outer side by a
high and massive stone-wall, and is swept by several traversing guns
pointing down it: the passage up to the interior being through a
succession of seven gates. The citadel is at the northeastern extremity
of the enclosure, and has a very striking appearance. Adjoining is a
series of six lofty round towers or bastions, connected by curtains of
great height and thickness. There are within the enclosure of the
rampart several spacious tanks, capable of supplying an adequate
garrison; though fifteen thousand men would be required fully to man the
defences.’ The town of Gwalior, it may suffice to state, was situated
along the eastern base of the rock. The Lashkar, or permanent camp of
the Maharajah, stretch out from the southwest end of the rock; whereas
the Moorar, or cantonment of the old Gwalior Contingent, was on the
opposite side of the town.
Such was the place which Sir Hugh Rose found it necessary to
reconnoitre, preparatory to a siege. The hill-fort, the Lashkar, the
Moorar, the city, and the semicircular belt of hills, all needed
examination, sufficient at least to determine at what points the rebel
army was distributed, and what defences had been thrown up. He found
that only a few troops were in the city itself, the main body being
placed in groups on and near the surrounding hills and cantonments.
Rumour assigned to the rebels a force of seventeen thousand men in arms;
but the means for testing the truth of this rumour were wanting.
The examination made by Rose led him to a determination to attack the
Moorar cantonment suddenly, before the other portions of the rebels
could arrive from the more distant stations—to adopt, in fact, the
Napoleon tactics, possible only when rapid movements are made. Brigadier
Smith was operating on the hills south of the town, as we shall
presently see; but Rose carried out his own portion of the attack
independently. Orders were at once given. The cavalry and guns were
placed on each flank; while the infantry, in two divisions, prepared to
advance. The 86th headed the attack, as part of the second brigade. No
sooner did the enemy find themselves attacked, than they poured out a
well-directed fire of musketry and field-guns; but this was speedily
silenced, and the rebels forced to make a precipitate retreat. Many of
them escaped into the city over a stone-bridge, the existence of which
was not correctly known to Sir Hugh. Four pieces of ordnance were at the
same time dragged over the bridge to the Lashkar camp—somewhat to the
vexation of the British, who wished to seize them: the capture, however,
was not long delayed. The main body of rebels, after being driven
through the whole length of the cantonment, were chased over a wide
expanse of country. Some terrible fighting occurred during this chase.
At one spot a number of the enemy had been driven into a fortified
trench around a village, and here they maintained a desperate
hand-to-hand struggle, until the trench was nearly choked with dead and
wounded bodies. It was while rushing on at the head of a company of the
71st Highlanders in this contest that Lieutenant Neave fell, mortally
wounded. The rebels engaged in this struggle included several men of the
Maharajah’s 1st regiment. A strong body of the enemy’s cavalry were
drawn up about half a mile from the bridge; but they did not venture
forth; and Sir Hugh encamped for the night in the Moorar cantonment.
This, then, was the first scene in the conquest. Sir Hugh had obtained
safe possession of the cantonment of Moorar, and had conquered and
expelled such of the insurgents as had taken up a position there.
Nevertheless this was only a preliminary measure; for the city and the
rock-fort were still in the hands of the enemy. Either through want of
means or want of foresight, the rebels had done little to strengthen
this fort; or, perchance, reposing on the Indian idea that that famous
fortress was impregnable, they deemed such a precaution unnecessary.
Instead of attending to that duty, they disposed their forces so as to
guard the roads of approach from Indoorkee, Seepree, and other places;
and it was in this field-service that the mail-clad Amazon, the Ranee of
Jhansi, engaged.
We must now trace the progress of Brigadier Smith, who had taken charge
of the operations from the south, and who would need to obtain command
of the hills southward of the city before he could reach Gwalior itself.
This active officer had to make a long march before he could reach the
scene of conflict. His column—comprising a wing of the 8th Hussars, a
wing of the Bombay Lancers, H.M. 95th foot, the 10th Native Bombay
infantry, and a troop of Bombay horse-artillery—started from Seepree,
and was joined, on the 15th of June, at Antree, by Major Orr with his
men of the Hyderabad Contingent. Setting out from that place, the
brigadier, thus reinforced, arrived on the 17th at Kotah-ke-serai, a
place about eight miles from Gwalior, on the little river Oomrah. Here
was a small square fort, and also a native travellers’ bungalow (implied
by the words _ke-serai_). As he approached this place, the brigadier
could see masses of the enemy’s cavalry and infantry in motion at the
base of some neighbouring hills—some of those already adverted to as
forming a semicircular belt around the southern half of Gwalior. These
hills it was necessary for him to cross to get to the Lashkar
camping-ground. Two companies of infantry, belonging to the 10th and
95th regiments, were thrown across the river as skirmishers, with a
squadron of Hussars as videttes; while the rest of his column remained
south of the river, to guard the ford and the fort. After a little
skirmishing, some of his cavalry crossed the river, and came under the
fire of a battery until then unperceived. Much sharp fighting ensued:
the enemy having been permitted to retain their hold of the hills on one
side of the river, in consequence of a movement made by Smith under
false information. The road from Jhansi to Gwalior crosses the hills
that lie southward of the Lashkar; and, before debouching from these
hills, it runs for several hundred yards through a defile along which a
canal had been excavated; the eastern embankment of this canal, twenty
or twenty-five feet in height, supplied an excellent cover for Smith’s
troops during their advance. It was while his column was thus marching
through the defile, defended by three or four guns on a neighbouring
hill, that the principal part of the day’s fighting took place. When
night came, Smith had secured the defile, the road, and the adjoining
hills; while the enemy occupied the hills on the other side of the
canal. The most distinguished person who fell in this day’s fighting was
the Ranee of Jhansi—an Amazon to the last. The account given of her
death is simply as follows: ‘The Ranee, in trying to escape over the
canal which separated the camp from the Phool Bagh parade, fell with her
horse, and was cut down by a Hussar; she still endeavoured to get over,
when a bullet struck her in the breast, and she fell to rise no more.’
The natives are said to have hastily burned her dead body, to save it
from apprehended desecration by the Feringhees. During the night between
the 17th and 18th, the enemy constructed a battery on one of their
hills, from which they poured forth a well-directed fire, lessened in
serious results by the greatness of the distance. It was not without
much difficulty and constant firing that the brigadier, during the 18th,
became master of the hills, and drove away the enemy, who were led with
much energy by Tanteea Topee.
[Illustration:
GWALIOR.
]
While Brigadier Smith was thus closely engaged on the southern hills,
Sir Hugh Rose contented himself with maintaining his won position at the
Moorar cantonment; he could not safely advance into the city until Smith
had achieved his portion of the work. On the 18th, when the brigadier
had surmounted some of the southern hills, Sir Hugh, seeing that the
enemy’s strong positions were on that side of the city, joined him by a
flank-movement of twelve miles—leaving only a sufficient number of
troops to guard his camp at the Moorar. Rose bivouacked for the night in
rear of Smith’s position, thus enabling both to act together on the
morrow. The enemy still occupied some of the heights nearest to the
city; and from these heights, as well as from the rock-fort, on the
19th, they poured out a fire of shot, shell, and shrapnell. Rose, after
narrowly examining the chief of the heights occupied by the enemy,
resolve to capture it by storm. Two of the choice infantry regiments
sent on in advance, ascended this height—the 71st on the right, the 86th
on the left; other regiments supported them; while the artillery was
plied wherever the most effective result could be produced. The scheme
required that some of the guns should be taken across the canal, in
order to form a battery on one of the hills; and the sappers executed
this difficult work under a hot fire. The struggle was not a long one;
the infantry ran intrepidly up to the enemy’s guns, and captured them.
The height was now gained; and large masses of the enemy came full in
view in the plain below. The rebels, losing heart at their failures,
became panic-stricken when the height was taken; they began to flee in
all directions. Then was the time for Rose’s cavalry to render useful
service; the troopers scoured the plain in all directions, cutting off
the wretched fugitives in large numbers. By four o’clock in the day,
Rose was master of Gwalior, to the inexpressible astonishment of the
enemy. There was scarcely any fighting in the city itself, or in the
Lashkar camp; nor was there much firing from the rock-fort; when the
heights were gained, the rebels gave way on all sides. While Brigadier
Smith advanced with cavalry and artillery to occupy the plain of the
Phool Bagh, Sir Hugh pushed on to the palace. Very little opposition was
encountered; few of the enemy being met with either there or at the
Lashkar. After providing for the safety of the palace, by posting
Europeans and Bombay infantry at the entrances, Sir Hugh made
arrangements for the security of the city. This he found comparatively
easy; for the regular inhabitants of the place had good reason to wish
for the suppression of the rebels, and gladly aided the conquerors in
restoring order.
[Illustration:
THE RANEE OF JHANSI.
]
Thus, on the night of the 19th, Sir Hugh Rose was virtually conqueror,
though not thoroughly. The seizure of palace, city, and cantonments did
not necessarily imply the seizure of the rock-fort, the bold fortress
which for ages has rendered Gwalior so famous in India. In point of
fact, the conquest of this fort was deferred until the 20th; Sir Hugh
looked upon it as an easy achievement, because it became known that only
a few natives remained within the place. The conquest was not effected
without causing the death of a gallant officer—Lieutenant Arthur Rose,
of the 25th Bombay native infantry. As soon as the city had fallen into
the hands of the besiegers, the lieutenant was sent by the
commanding-officer of his regiment to guard the Kotwallee or
police-station. A shot or two being unexpectedly fired from the fort,
Rose proposed to a brother-officer, Lieutenant Waller, the daring
project of capturing it with the handful of men at their joint
disposal—urging that, though the risk would be great, the honour would
be proportionally great if the attempt succeeded. Off they started,
taking with them a blacksmith. This man, with his lusty arm and his
heavy hammer, broke in the outermost or lowermost of the many gates that
guarded the ascent of the rock on which the fort was situated; then
another, and another, until all the six gates were broken into, and
entered by the little band of assailants. It is hardly to be expected,
that if the gates were really strong and securely fastened, they could
have been burst open in this way; but the confusion resulting from the
fighting had probably caused some of the defensive arrangements to be
neglected. At various points on the ascent the assailants were fired at
by the few rebels in the place; and near the top a desperate
hand-to-hand conflict took place, during which the numbers were thinned
on both sides. While Rose was encouraging his men in their hot work, a
musket was fired at him from behind a wall; and the bullet, striking him
on the right of the spine, passed through his body. The man who had
fired the fatal shot, a Bareilly mutineer, then rushed out, and cut him
across the knee and the wrist with a sword. Waller came up, and
despatched this fellow, but too late to save the life of his poor friend
Rose.[176]
Several days before the conquest of Gwalior was finally completed,
arrangements were made for reinstating Scindia upon the throne from
which he had been so suddenly and unexpectedly hurled. Irrespective of
the justice of Scindia’s cause, Sir Robert Hamilton and Sir Hugh Rose
wished him to return at once from Agra to Gwalior for another reason—to
enable the British to judge who among the townsmen deserved punishment,
and who were worthy of forgiveness. It was also very important to shew
that the government meant promptly and firmly to support so faithful a
man, as an encouragement to other native princes to maintain faith with
the British. Even before Rose had reached Gwalior, and when the result
of the approaching battle could not in any degree be foreseen, Hamilton,
as political resident at the court of Gwalior, sent a dispatch to
Scindia at Agra, requesting him to move down at once to the Chumbul,
that he might be in readiness to present himself at Gwalior whenever the
proper time should arrive. Accordingly the temporarily dethroned
Maharajah set out from Agra on the 13th of June with all his retinue,
escorted by a party of Meade’s Horse, and by some of his own troopers
who still remained faithful. He reached Dholpore on the 15th, where he
joined Colonel Riddell’s column. On the next he faintly heard the roar
of cannon at his capital, thirty-seven miles distant; and in the evening
an express arrived from Sir Robert Hamilton, announcing the capture of
the cantonment—the first stage towards the capture of Gwalior itself.
Crossing the Chumbul, and mounting his horse, Scindia galloped off, and
rode all night, reaching Gwalior on the 17th. During the next three
days, the presence and advice of the Maharajah were very valuable to the
British authorities, contributing much towards the final conquest. On
the 20th, when all the fighting was well-nigh over, Scindia was restored
to his throne with as much oriental pomp as could be commanded in the
limited time: Rose, Hamilton, and all the chief military and civil
officers, accompanying him in procession from the camp to the palace. It
was a good augury that the townsmen, who lined all the streets, seemed
right glad to have him back again amongst them.
When Gwalior was fairly cleared of rebels, and Scindia reinstated as
Maharajah, two official congratulatory documents were issued, one by Sir
Colin Campbell, and the other by Viscount Canning—somewhat differing in
character, but tending to the same end. Sir Colin congratulated Sir Hugh
Rose on the successful result of his rapid advance upon Gwalior, and the
restoration of Scindia. He adverted to these as a happy termination of
Rose’s brilliant campaign in Central India—a campaign illustrated by
many engagements in the open field; by the relief of Saugor; by the
capture of Ratgurh, Shagurh, and Chendaree; by the memorable siege of
Jhansi; by the fall of Calpee; and lastly, by the re-occupation of
Gwalior. While thanking Rose and his troops heartily for their glorious
deeds, Sir Colin did not fail to notice two other generals who had
shared in the hot work of those regions. ‘It must not be forgotten that
the advance of the Central India Field-force formed part of a large
combination, and was rendered possible by the movement of Major-general
Roberts, of the Bombay army, into Rajpootana, on the one side; and of
Major-general Whitlock, of the Madras army, on the other; and by the
support they respectively gave to Major-general Sir Hugh Rose as he
moved onwards in obedience to his instructions.’ Viscount Canning’s
proclamation was more formal, and was intended to meet the eye of
Scindia quite as much as those of the gallant troops who had just
reinstated him; it had a political object, to encourage native princes
in a course of fidelity, by shewing that the British government would
aid in maintaining them on their thrones, just in proportion to their
good faith.[177]
The British had reconquered every part of the city and neighbourhood of
Gwalior, reinstated Scindia on his throne, wrought terrible execution on
the insurgents, and compelled the main body to seek safety in flight.
But the questions then arose, in this as in all previous instances—to
what quarter had the fugitives retreated, and what amount of mischief
might they produce during and in consequence of their retreat? It was
soon ascertained that, while others had chosen a different route, the
main body had taken the road to Kurowlee. Hence it became an object with
Sir Hugh to send off a force in pursuit, in the hope of so completely
cutting up the fugitives as to prevent them from reassembling as an
organised army at any other spot. He invited the co-operation of
Brigadier Showers from another quarter, but depended chiefly on the
exertions of a flying column hastily made up, and placed under the
command of Brigadier Napier. On the 20th, within a few hours after the
capture of Gwalior, Napier set forth; and the next few days were marked
by deeds of gallantry worthy of the name he bore. The column consisted
of a troop of horse-artillery, a troop of the 14th Dragoons, a wing of
the Hyderabad Contingent cavalry, and three troops of Meade’s
Horse—altogether about six hundred men, with six guns. Starting from the
Moorar cantonment, and passing from the Residency into the open country,
Napier reached Sunnowlie, twenty-four miles from Gwalior, by three
o’clock the next morning. On approaching Jowra Alipore, a few hours
afterwards, he descried the enemy in great force, with nearly thirty
guns. Not waiting to consider how small his numbers were compared with
those opposed to him, Napier resolved to grapple with the enemy. He
moved his column to the cover of a rising-ground which afforded partial
concealment; and finding the rebels disposed to move off, he at once
attacked them, with a chivalrous daring worthy of all praise. The column
galloped off to the right, towards the enemy’s guns, of which nine were
grouped in and around a small tope of trees. Captain Lightfoot’s
horse-artillery galloped up to the front, poured in two rounds of shot
at a distance of five hundred yards, limbered up, and dashed off to the
enemy’s guns, even outstripping the supporting cavalry; these guns,
being found deserted by the enemy, were at once captured. Of fighting,
there was really little in amount. The enemy, supposed to be at least
ten times as numerous as Napier’s troops, and supplied with formidable
artillery, scarcely made a stand at any point; the necessity for flight
from Gwalior had produced a sort of panic, and they made but little
resistance to Napier. They ran off in various directions, but chiefly
towards the south. Their haste was too great, and the pursuit too
prompt, to enable them to save any of their guns; Napier seized them
all, twenty-five in number, together with numerous stands of arms. Great
as was this achievement, however, considering the relative forces of the
belligerents, the result was hardly satisfactory in a political point of
view. The hope was not merely to recover Gwalior, but to crush the rebel
forces. Gwalior, it is true, was taken, and artillery in much strength
was captured; still the main body of the rebels escaped from Rose at
Gwalior on the 19th, and the same main body escaped from Napier at Jowra
Alipore on the 21st. Although they had few or no guns, they fled as an
army and not as a rabble; they retained that sort of military
organisation which might enable them to work mischief elsewhere. Napier,
wishing to prevent this as far as possible, pursued them some distance;
but as the rebels were wonderfully quick in their movements, they
gradually increased the distance between them and their pursuer, until
at length Napier was thirty miles behind. He then gave up a pursuit
which was likely to be fruitless, and returned to Gwalior with the guns
he had captured. It was afterwards made a subject for question whether
Rose should not have placed a greater force of light cavalry at Napier’s
disposal; but there appears much probability that, when once in flight,
the rebels would have succeeded in escaping, in this as in all similar
instances. They had attained great mastery in the art of fleeing.
Who was the leader of the body of rebels adverted to in the preceding
paragraph was not clearly known; perhaps there was no recognised leader
in the hasty flight. Another body, however, estimated at five or six
thousand in number, followed the orders of the indefatigable Tanteea
Topee; he led them across the Chumbul, past Shree Muttra and Hindoun,
and made towards Jeypoor—the chief city of the principal among the
Rajpoot states. So far as could be ascertained, he hoped to obtain the
assistance of insurgent chieftains in that region. He carried with him
the crown-jewels, and an immense amount of treasure, that had belonged
to Scindia. There was a possibility that Tanteea Topee, by bending a
little to the north, would advance to Bhurtpore instead of Jeypoor. The
population of Bhurtpore was warlike, and Tanteea Topee could not enter
within the earthen walls if opposed; but it was impossible at that time
to rely on any body of Rajpoot troops; and hence the British authorities
watched with some anxiety the progress of the rebel leader.
When, a few weeks earlier, Sir Hugh Rose had thanked his gallant troops
after the capture of Calpee, he hoped to be able to retire to Bombay, to
recruit his shattered health after so much active service in hot
weather. This hope was founded on what appeared to be rational grounds.
The last stronghold of the enemy had fallen into his hands, with its
guns, ammunition, and stores. Detached posts, it is true, might require
to be carefully guarded; isolated bodies of rebels might need pursuit
and punishment; but there did not appear to be any enterprise of such
magnitude and importance as to demand the combined services of the
different regiments in the Central India Field-force. Therefore it was
that, almost immediately after the fall of Calpee, Sir Hugh issued the
glowing address to his troops, already adverted to. His hope of
retirement, however, was for a time frustrated by the defeat of Scindia
by the rebels; but when he had retaken Gwalior, and reinstated the
Maharajah upon the throne, Sir Hugh found himself enabled to fulfil his
wish. Towards the close of June he issued another address to his troops,
in which he said: ‘The major-general commanding being on the point of
resigning the command of the Poonah division of the Bombay army,[178] on
account of ill health, bids farewell to the Central India Field-force;
and at the same time expresses the pleasure he feels that he commanded
them when they gained one more laurel at Gwalior. The major-general
witnessed with satisfaction how the troops and their gallant comrades in
arms—the Rajpootana brigade, under General Smith—stormed height after
height, and gun after gun, under the fire of a numerous field and siege
artillery, taking finally by assault two 18-pounders at Gwalior. Not a
man in these forces enjoyed his natural strength or health; and an
Indian sun, and months of marching and broken rest, had told on the
strongest; but the moment they were told to take Gwalior for their Queen
and country, they thought of nothing but victory. They gained it,
restoring England’s true and brave ally to his throne; putting to
complete rout the rebel army; killing numbers of them; and taking from
them in the field, exclusive of those in the fort, fifty-two pieces of
artillery, all their stores and ammunition, and capturing the city and
fort of Gwalior, reckoned the strongest in India. The major-general
thanks sincerely Brigadier-general Napier, C.B., Brigadier Stuart,
C.B.,[179] and Brigadier Smith, commanding brigades in the field, for
the very efficient and able assistance which they gave him, and to which
he attributes the success of the day. He bids them and their brave
soldiers once more a kind farewell. He cannot do so under better aspects
than those of the victory of Gwalior.’
Every one admitted that Sir Hugh Rose had well earned a season of
repose, after his five months of marching, fighting, besieging, and
conquering. It was on the 12th of January 1858 that he took command of
his Central India Field-force at Sehore. On the 23d he captured the town
of Ratgurh; on the 28th, defeated the enemy in the field; and on the
30th, captured the fort of Ratgurh. February came, and with it, the
relief of Saugor and the capture of the fort of Garra Kotah. In March he
forced the pass of Mudenpore; captured a series of strongholds which
gave him command of Bundelcund; took and burned Churkaree; and occupied
Tal Behut. In April he defeated the rebel army of Tanteea Topee, near
Jhansi; captured that city; and afterwards stormed and captured the fort
belonging to it. In May he took the fort of Koonch; then fought a severe
battle near Calpee; and eventually captured the fort at that place.
Lastly, in June, as we have just seen, he thoroughly defeated the
Gwalior mutineers, captured that important Mahratta city and fort, and
replaced Scindia on the throne of his ancestors. Second to Havelock—and
it may be doubted whether even this exception should be made—there was
no general engaged in the wars arising out of the mutiny, whose
operations were so numerous and so uniformly successful as those of Sir
Hugh Rose. It must at the same time be admitted that Havelock, from
first to last, had far smaller forces at his command.
The Central India Field-force underwent a total break up after the
capture of Gwalior. The 95th regiment remained for a time within the
rock-fort. Two of the Queen’s regiments of infantry, and one of the
Bombay regiments, with detachments of cavalry and artillery, occupied
the Moorar cantonment, until further directions could be received. At
Jhansi were stationed the 3d Bombay Europeans, the 24th Bombay native
infantry, with cavalry and artillery. Brigadier Smith’s Rajpootana
brigade, which had rendered such good service at the siege of Gwalior,
was distributed into three portions—one remaining at Gwalior, and the
others going to Seepree and Goonah. All these troops absolutely needed
rest. Whatever exertions were necessary to check the career of the
fugitive rebels, were intrusted to troops from other quarters,
especially to General Roberts, who held command of all the available
troops in Rajpootana. Nothing but dire necessity kept British soldiers
in the field under a midsummer sun in the plains of India. As to Sir
Hugh Rose, a triumphant reception awaited him at Bombay; all ranks
strove to render him honour, as one who had brought great renown to the
Bombay army.
-----
Footnote 176:
Brigadier Stuart, when he heard of the fatal termination of this bold
and daring achievement, issued the following general order: ‘Brigadier
Stuart has received with the deepest regret a report of the death of
Lieutenant Rose, 25th Bombay N. I., who was mortally wounded
yesterday, on entering the fort of Gwalior, on duty with his men. The
brigadier feels assured that the whole brigade unite with him in
deploring the early death of this gallant officer, whose many sterling
qualities none who knew him could fail to appreciate.’
Footnote 177:
‘_Allahabad, June 24, 1858._—The Right Honourable the Governor-general
has the highest gratification in announcing that the town and fort of
Gwalior were conquered by Major-general Sir Hugh Rose on the 19th
instant, after a general action in which the rebels, who had usurped
the authority of Maharajah Scindia, were totally defeated. On the 20th
of June, the Maharajah Scindia, attended by the governor-general’s
agent for Central India, and Sir Hugh Rose, and escorted by British
troops, was restored to the palace of his ancestors, and was welcomed
by his subjects with every mark of loyalty and attachment. It was on
the 1st of June that the rebels, aided by the treachery of some of
Maharajah Scindia’s troops, seized the capital of his highness’s
kingdom, and hoped to establish a new government under a pretender in
his highness’s territory. Eighteen days had not elapsed before they
were compelled to evacuate the town and fort of Gwalior, and to
relinquish the authority which they had endeavoured to usurp. The
promptitude and success with which the strength of the British
government has been put forth to the restoration of its faithful ally
to the capital of his territory, and the continued presence of British
troops at Gwalior to support his highness in the re-establishment of
his administration, offer to all a convincing proof that the British
government has the will and the power to befriend those who, like
Maharajah Scindia, do not shrink from their obligation or hesitate to
avow their loyalty. The Right Honourable the Governor-general, in
order to mark his appreciation of the Maharajah Scindia’s friendship,
and his gratification at the re-establishment of his highness’s
authority in his ancestral dominions, is pleased to direct that a
royal salute shall be fired at every principal station in India.’
Footnote 178:
The Central India Field-force was a kind of offshoot from the Poonah
division of the Bombay army.
Footnote 179:
Brigadier Steuart, who had been with Sir Hugh Rose in the earlier
scenes of the campaign, retired through ill health before the
operations at Gwalior began. His brigade passed to the command of
Napier.
[Illustration:
DARJEELING—Hill Sanatorium in Sikkim.
]
CHAPTER XXXI.
STATE OF AFFAIRS AT THE END OF JUNE.
Although the military operations conducted by Sir Hugh Rose and his
heroic companions, bearing relation to the reconquest of Gwalior, and
the re-establishment of Scindia on his Mahratta throne, were the most
interesting events in India during the month of June, the other
provinces also witnessed struggles and contests which equally need to be
chronicled; seeing that they all contributed towards the one great and
earnestly desired result—the pacification of the Anglo-Indian empire.
Terrible, it is true, were the labours of the gallant men who fought and
marched against the rebels under the scorching heat of an Indian
sun—heat which was that year excessive, even for India itself; but such
labours were necessary, and were borne with a degree of cheerfulness
which commands our admiration for the sterling qualities of British
troops. Sir Colin Campbell yearned to place his brave men under shade
and at rest, until such time as the rains should have cooled down the
summer’s fiery temperature; he did so to such an extent as was
practicable; but this extent was not great. June, as we shall see, was a
month of much fighting in the regions adjacent to the Ganges, the Jumna,
the Chumbul, and the Sone.
Calcutta saw nothing of the governor-general during many months. He took
up his abode at Allahabad; filling the offices not only of
governor-general of the whole of India, but special governor of some of
those disturbed regions which had at one time been called the Northwest
Provinces, and at another the Central Provinces. This he had done in
order that he might be in more easy communication with the
commander-in-chief, and in more prompt receipt of intelligence from the
various stations and camps in Oude, Behar, Rohilcund, the Doab,
Bundelcund, Central India, and Rajpootana. How the weight of
responsibility pressed on one who had to govern at such a time and in
such a climate, few were aware; he worked on, early and late, thinking
only how best he could act as the Queen’s viceroy for India. Calcutta
had not much more to do with Lord Canning’s proceedings at that period,
than the other presidential cities; for he had his staff of government
employés with him at Allahabad.
Bengal was nearly at peace in June; few troubles disturbed the equable
flow of commerce and industry. One slight transaction of an opposite
kind may, however, be briefly noticed. A body of sailors sent from
Calcutta had an opportunity of bringing some rebels to an account, and
defeating them in the wonted style. A naval brigade, under Captain
Moore, was stationed in the district of Singbhoom, southwest of
Calcutta, near the frontier between the Bengal and Madras presidencies.
The district comprised the four petty states of Singbhoom, Colehan,
Surakella, and Khursawa, each of which had its rajah or chieftain. The
only town of any note in the district was Chyebassa; and here was the
Company’s civil station. The Rajah of Singbhoom, at the period now under
notice, was endeavouring, like many other rajahs, to strengthen himself
by throwing off British supremacy. It happened, on the 9th of the month,
when the brigade was encamped at Chuckerderpore, but when some of the
officers had gone to Chyebassa, that the camp was suddenly attacked by
the rajah’s motley retinue of Koles, a half-savage tribe armed with
battle-axes, bows and arrows, spears, and matchlocks. They invested the
camp on all sides, and made a very fierce attack. The seamen poured in a
few shells among them, which threw them into much disorder. After this a
party of thirty went out, and committed much havoc among them in a
hand-to-hand contest. Captain Moncrieff then rode in from Chyebassa,
with a cavalry escort, and at once engaged with the rebels. After five
hours’ skirmishing, the mid-day sun exhausted alike Europeans and Koles;
and nothing further occurred till the morning of the 10th. The rebels
were so numerous that the brigade could only attack them on one side at
once; and thus it was not until the arrival of a hundred Ramgurh troops
and fifty Sikhs, at noon on the 11th, that the rajah and his Koles gave
way—retreating to the jungles of Porahaut.
In other parts of Bengal there were petty chieftains of like
character, who were quite willing to set up as kings on their own
account—regardless of treaties existing between them and the Company,
and actuated solely by the temptations afforded during a period of
disorder. But the conditions were not favourable to them. The meek and
cowardly Bengalees did not imitate the Hindustanis of the Doab and
Oude; the hill-tribes were too few in number to be formidable; and the
steady arrival of British troops at Calcutta strengthened the hands of
the authorities in all the surrounding regions. Arrangements were
gradually made for increasing the number of European troops at
Calcutta, Dacca, Barrackpore, Berhampore, Hazarebagh, Jessore, and one
or two other stations—so as to place the whole of Bengal more
immediately under the eye of the military authorities.
These defensive measures extended as far north as Darjeeling—one of
those healthy and temperate Hill-stations which have so often been
adverted to in former chapters as important _sanitaria_ for the English
in India. Simla, Landour, Kussowlie, Subathoo, Mussouree, Dugshai,
Almora, and Nynee Tal, are all of this character; and to these may be
added Darjeeling. A patch of hill-country, containing about three
hundred square miles, and formerly belonging to the Rajah of Sikim, was
obtained by the Company a few years ago, and Darjeeling established near
its centre. The Himalayas bound it on the north, Nepaul on the west,
Bhotan on the east, and two of the Bengal districts on the south. The
hills and valleys are beautiful, and the climate healthy. Darjeeling is
more particularly mentioned in this place, because, about the date to
which this chapter refers, public attention was called to a project for
establishing a settlement called Hope Town, on the slopes of a hill near
Darjeeling. This settlement was to be for independent emigrants,
colonists, or settlers, from the plains, or even from Europe; who, it
was hoped, might be tempted to that region by a fertile soil and a
magnificent climate, and thus gradually introduce English farming at the
base of the Himalayas. A company or society purchased or leased about
fourteen thousand acres of hill-land, in Darjeeling district, but not in
immediate contiguity to Darjeeling town. It was announced that the
locality contained clay for bricks, rubble for masonry, lime for mortar,
timber for carpentry and for fuel, and all the essential requisites for
building; water was abundant, from the mountain streams and springs;
while peaceful natives in the neighbouring plains would be eager to
obtain employment as artisans and labourers. The elevation of the land,
varying from three to six thousand feet, offered much facility of
choice. As the government had commenced a road from Darjeeling and Hope
Town to Caragola Ghât on the Ganges, there would be good markets for
hill produce in many parts of Bengal—perhaps in Calcutta itself. When
the project of this Hope Town settlement was first formed in 1856, it
was intended that the projectors should grant leases of small plots for
farms or dwellings, for a fixed number of years, and at a rental so
small as to attract settlers; while at the same time this rental should
so far exceed what the speculators paid to the government as to enable
them to construct a road, and build a school-room, church, library, and
other component elements for a town. This, it may be observed, was only
one among several colonising projects brought before public notice in
India. The land containing many magnificent tracts, and the climate
presenting many varieties of temperature, it has often been urged that
that noble country presents advantages for settlement which ought no
longer to be overlooked. So long as the East India Company’s power
existed, any colonising schemes would necessarily prove almost abortive;
but now that British India owns no other ruler than the sovereign of
England, there may in future years be an opening offered for the
thorough examination and testing of this important question, that its
merits and demerits may be fairly compared. Some of the advocates of
colonisation have painted imaginary pictures so glowing as to represent
India as the true Dorado or Golden Land of the widely spreading British
empire; some of the opponents of colonisation, on the other hand, have
asserted that British farmers could not live in India if they would, and
would not if they could:—the future will strike out a practicable mean
between these two extremes.
The controversy concerning Indian heat, in reference to the wants and
constitutions of English settlers, bore very closely on the subject of
colonisation, and on the difference between the hilly districts and the
plains. In military matters, however, and in reference to the struggle
actually going on, all admitted that the summer of 1858 had been more
than usually fierce in its heat. A correspondent of one of the journals
said: ‘As if to try the endurance of Englishmen to the utmost, the
season has been such as has not been known since 1833. Those who know
Bengal will understand it when I say that on the 15th inst. one
clergyman in Calcutta buried forty-eight Englishmen, chiefly sailors. In
one ship the captain, chief-mate, and twenty-six men, had all apoplexy
at once. Nine men from Fort-William were buried one morning from the
same cause. Her Majesty’s 19th, at Barrackpore, who are nearly all under
cover, and who are most carefully looked after, have 200 men unfit for
duty from immense boils. All over the country paragraph after paragraph
announces the deaths of so many men at such a place from apoplexy.’ The
same writer mentions the case of a colonel who, just arrived with his
regiment at Calcutta, and, unfamiliar with an Indian climate, marched
off his men _with their stocks on_: in an hour afterwards he and his
instructor in rifle-practice were both dead from apoplexy.
Before quitting Calcutta, it may be well to mention that the month of
June was marked by an honourable and energetic movement for recording
the services and cherishing the memory of Mr Venables, one of those
civil servants of the Company who displayed an undaunted spirit, and
considerable military talent, in times of great trial. It will be
remembered that, after many months of active service, both civil and
military, Mr Venables was wounded at Azimghur on the 15th of April;[180]
from the effects of this wound he soon afterwards sank—dying as he had
lived, a frank and gallant man. A committee was formed in Calcutta to
found, by individual subscriptions, some sort of memorial worthy of the
man. Viscount Canning took an early opportunity of joining in this
manifestation; and in a letter to the committee he spoke of Mr Venables
in the following terms: ‘It will be a satisfaction to me to join in this
good work, not only on account of the admiration which I feel for the
high qualities which Mr Venables devoted to the public service, his
intrepidity in the field, his energy and calm temper in upholding the
civil authority, and his thoroughly just appreciation of the people and
circumstances with which he had to deal; but also, and especially, on
account of circumstances attending the last service which Mr Venables
rendered to his country. After the capture of Lucknow, where he was
attached to Brigadier General Franks’ column, Mr Venables came to
Allahabad. He was broken in health and spirits, anxious for rest, and
looking forward eagerly to his return to England, for which his
preparations were made. At that time the appearance of affairs near
Azimghur was threatening; and I asked Mr Venables to forego his
departure from India, and return to that district, with which he was
intimately acquainted—there to assist in preserving order until danger
should have passed away. He at once consented cheerfully; and that
consent cost him his life. I am certain that the Court of Directors, who
are fully informed of all particulars of Mr Venables’s great services
and untimely death, will be eager to mark, in such manner as shall seem
best to them, their appreciation of the character of this brave,
self-denying English gentleman; and I am truly glad to have an
opportunity of joining with his fellow-countrymen in India in testifying
the sincere respect which I feel for his memory.’
Beyond the limits of Bengal, one of the many interesting questions that
pressed upon public attention bore relation to Nepaul and Jung Bahadoor.
That gay, gorgeous, shrewd, and unscrupulous chieftain had gone back to
his own country somewhat dissatisfied with his share in the Oude
campaign, or with the advantages accruing from it. Queen Victoria had
made him a Grand Cross of the Bath—a gentle knight ‘sans peur et sans
reproche,’ according to the original meaning of that honourable
distinction; but there were those who believed he would have better
welcomed some more substantial recognition of his services, such as a
fair slice out of the territory of Oude. Some doubted his fidelity to
the British cause, and among these were several of the leaders among the
rebels. There came to light a most remarkable correspondence, shewing in
what way Jung Bahadoor was tempted to swerve from his allegiance, and in
what way he resisted the temptation. Several letters were made public—by
what agency does not clearly appear—addressed by the Begum of Oude and
her adherents to the Nepaulese chieftain. About the period to which this
chapter relates, the rebel party at Lucknow disseminated rumours to the
effect that Jung Bahadoor, after his return to Nepaul, had been written
to by the Begum, and that he had undertaken to throw in his lot with the
‘patriots’ of Oude. That the attempt was made is clear enough; but the
nature of the response, so far as the published correspondence revealed
it, certainly does not seem to implicate him. One letter, apparently
written about the end of May, was signed by Mahomed Surfraz Ali, who
designated himself ambassador of the King of Oude. It began by
expressing astonishment that Nepaul should have aided the infidel
British, after having in former days been in friendly alliance with
Oude. ‘The chiefs of every tribe,’ it said, ‘should fight for their
religion as long as they live.’ Considering that the Oude royal family
were Mohammedans, and the Nepaulese Hindoos, the ambassador had some
difficulty in so framing his letter as to prove that Jung Bahadoor ought
to aid them rather than the English; and indeed his logic was somewhat
lame. The ambassador stated that he was then writing at Toolseepore,
whither he had been sent by the powerful Moulvie Ahmedoolah Shah, on the
part of the King of Oude, to act as accredited agent or ambassador with
the Nepaul authorities. He proceeded to state that seven letters, in the
Persian language, had been written by Mahomed Khan Bahadoor, viceroy of
Oude, to as many of the chief personages in Oude—among others, to Jung
Bahadoor himself; and that two letters, in the Hindee language, had been
written under the seal of the King of Oude, one addressed to the King of
Nepaul, and one to Jung Bahadoor. Mahomed Surfraz Ali added: ‘Neither I
nor the servants of our government are acquainted with your titles, or
those of your authorities, so we cannot address you properly. I am in
hopes that you will send me word how we should address you; and pray
forgive any mistakes or omissions in this letter.’ He begged the favour
of a letter, with the chieftain’s seal attached, for presentation to the
court of Oude. The letters purporting to be written by or for ‘Ramzan
Ali Khan Mirza Birjiz Kudr Bahadoor,’ King of Oude, assumed quite a
regal style, and almost claimed the alliance of the Nepaul Maharajah as
a right. The royal letter-writer made short work of the causes of the
mutiny: ‘The British some time ago attempted to interfere with the faith
of both the Hindoos and the Mohammedans, by preparing cartridges with
cows’ grease for the Hindoos, and that of pigs’ for the Mohammedans, and
ordering them to bite them with their teeth. The sepoys refused, and
were ordered by the British to be blown away from guns on the
parade-ground. This is the cause of the war breaking out, and probably
you are acquainted with it. But I am ignorant as to how they managed to
get your troops, which they brought down here, and began to commit every
sort of violence, and to pull down temples, mosques, imaumbarahs, and
sacred places. You are well aware of the treachery of the British; and
it is proper you should preserve the standard of religion, and make the
tree of friendship between you and me fresh.’ The real correspondents,
in this exchange of letters, were the Begum of Oude and Jung Bahadoor.
The astute chieftain wrote a reply, couched in such terms as to suggest
a probability that the British resident at Khatmandoo was at his elbow.
One of his high-flown paragraphs ran thus: ‘Since the star of faith and
integrity, sincerity in words as well as in acts, and wisdom and
comprehension, of the British, are shining as bright as the sun in every
quarter of the globe, be assured that my government will never disunite
itself from the friendship of the exalted British government, or be
instigated to join with any monarch against it, be he as high as heaven.
What grounds can we have for connecting ourselves with the Hindoos and
Mohammedans of Hindostan?’ And he ended with this bit of advice: ‘As you
have sent me a friendly letter, let me persuade you, that if any person,
Hindoo or Mohammedan, who has not murdered a British lady or child, goes
immediately to Mr Montgomery, the chief-commissioner of Lucknow, and
surrenders his arms, and makes submission, he will be permitted to
retain his honour, and his crime will be pardoned. If you still be
inclined to make war on the British, no rajah or king in the world will
give you an asylum; and death will be the end of it.’ This reply,
supposing it to be a spontaneous expression of the real sentiments of
Jung Bahadoor, would have possessed very high value; but a large
deduction must probably be made both from the spontaneity and the
sincerity.
It may perhaps be well to notice that the royal house of Oude was at
discord with itself in those days, and that the king’s name was used ‘as
a tower of strength’ by intriguers who cared little for rightful
ownership. The real king—that is, the ex-king—was at Calcutta, a
prisoner and a half-idiot, with depravity enough to enjoy plots, but not
brains to execute them. The legitimate son and heir, so to speak, was in
Europe, where he had lately buried his grandmother the dowager-queen of
Oude, and was spending his father’s money at a very rapid rate. The
regal personages at Lucknow were the Begum and her son. The Begum was
one of the king’s many ladies; and her son was a weak-headed youth of
thirteen years old—‘illegitimate,’ according to the assertions of the
‘legitimate’ son at that time in Europe. The exiled king and his two
sons were, in reference to these machinations at Lucknow, mere tools or
pretences; the real mover was the clever and ambitious Begum. In Nepaul,
likewise, the real power was possessed, not by the maharajah, or
sovereign, but by his all-controlling, king-making subject, Jung
Bahadoor.
The proceedings of the Oudian intriguers during the month of June will
presently be noticed in other ways; but it will be convenient first to
attend to the affairs of Behar.
In former chapters it has been narrated, in sufficient fulness for the
purpose in view, how the western provinces of Behar were troubled by the
Jugdispore and Dinapoor rebels, and with how many difficulties Sir
Edward Lugard had to contend in bringing his ‘Azimghur Field-force’ to
bear against them. The month of June offered no exception to this state
of things. Most harassing indeed were the labours which they brought
upon him, testing his patience and perseverance more, perhaps, than his
military skill. Notwithstanding the numerous defeats which they had
suffered, these mutinied sepoys and armed budmashes were continually
moving from place to place—giving evidence of their presence by murder,
plunder, and burning. The jungles around Jugdispore afforded many
facilities for hiding and secret flight. One of the many defeats
inflicted by Sir Edward occurred on the 27th of May. Immediately
afterwards a body of several hundreds of those insurgents issued from
the eastern portion of the jungle, and shewed themselves in their true
character as marauders bent on mischief, rather than as soldiers
fighting for a definite cause. On the 30th they burned an indigo factory
at Twining Gunge, a place near Dumoran; whilst on the same day another
body advanced to the village of Rajpore, within eight miles of Buxar,
and murdered two natives in government service. From thence they
wandered, during the next four or five days, among the neighbouring
villages, working mischief at every step. In anything like a military
sense, these bands of marauders were contemptible; but so numerous were
the unemployed and half-fed ruffians in the disturbed districts, that
there were always materials at hand for swelling the numbers of these
freebooting insurgents. Lugard was compelled to keep his troops moving
about, between Arrah and Buxar; while the authorities at Ghazeepore and
Benares were on the alert to check any advance of the rebels towards
those cities. On the 2d of June he divided his force into two wings, and
established camps at Keshwa and Dulleepore, with a line of posts across
the jungle. On the next day he cut a broad road through the jungle to
connect the two camps. Having thus completely hemmed a considerable body
of the rebels within the southern end of the jungle, he attacked them
with his whole force on the 4th, with a very successful result—so far as
regarded the maintenance of military superiority. The rebels attempted
for a time to make a stand; but the 10th and 84th foot, charging with
the bayonet, defeated them with great slaughter. Here again, however,
was the old story repeated; his hope of capturing the main body of
rebels was frustrated; they broke up into small bands, and fled in
various directions.
Instead of describing numerous petty contests that occurred during the
month, it may be well to illustrate the peculiar characteristics of the
struggle by one particular instance, to shew that the British troops in
Behar had more certainty of hard work than chance of glory. During the
first week in June, Sir Edward intrusted to Brigadier Douglas the duty
of intercepting a body of rebels from the Jugdispore district towards
Buxar—a difficult duty, on account of the ingenuity of the rebels in
eluding pursuit. Douglas started on the 7th, taking with him H.M. 84th
foot, a troop of the 4th Madras cavalry, three troops of the military
train, and three guns of the royal horse-artillery. On that and the two
following days he marched to Buxar, by way of Shahpoor and Saumgunje.
Between the 10th and the 13th he was busily engaged in the almost
hopeless task of catching the rebels who were known to be marching and
marauding not far distant. Now he would descry a few hundred of them in
a tope of trees, and send his horse-artillery to disperse them with
grape-shot; now he would cross the little river Surronuddee, or the
Kurrumnassa, or hasten to the Sheapoor Ghât, in the hope of cutting off
fugitives; now he would march through or near the villages of Ghamur,
Chawsa, or Barra, in search either of rebels or of intelligence. His
success by no means repaid him for his harassing exertions; he could
seldom rely on information obtained concerning the movements of the
rebels, and still more seldom could he catch the rebels themselves. In
his dispatch relating to these operations, the brigadier said: ‘Three
men of the royal horse-artillery died during the night from the effects
of the sun, and one man of the 84th.... The heat during the operations
was intense, and the troops suffered much, particularly the 84th
regiment, who have now been thirteen months in the field. I consider
this regiment at present to be quite unfit for active service; the men
have no positive disease, but they are so exhausted that they can
neither eat nor sleep.’ If they could have encountered the enemy, and
thoroughly vanquished them in a regular battle, the overworked and
heat-worn soldiers would have borne this and more than this cheerfully;
but they had to deal with rebels who eluded their search in an
extraordinary way. Sir Edward Lugard, in a dispatch written on the 14th,
dated from his camp at Narainpoor, near Jugdispore, adverted to this
subject in the following terms: ‘To shew the rapidity and secrecy with
which the rebels conduct their movements, I beg to state, that in order
to guard against the return of any party from the west towards the
jungles, without my getting timely intelligence, so that I might
intercept them, I posted at Roop-Saugor—a village thirteen miles to my
southwest, on the track taken by the rebels in their flight—Captain
Rattray, with his Sikh battalion. He again threw forward scouts some
miles in the same direction, and constantly had parties patrolling in
the different villages. But in spite of every precaution, the rebel
force were at Medneepore, within four miles of him, before he could
communicate with me, and passed on towards the jungle the same night.
Every endeavour to obtain information from the people of the district
has proved vain; scarcely ever has any intelligence been given to us,
until the time has passed when advantage could be taken of it.’
In reference to these Jugdispore rebels, it has been remarked that they
were neither Sikhs from the west, nor Poorbeahs from the east; but
chiefly Bhojpoories of the Shahabad district, most of them born on Koer
Singh’s own estates. Moreover, causes have been assigned for thinking
that these, as well as other rebels, adhered most to those leaders who
could treat them best, whether in pay or plunder, without much reference
to their military abilities. ‘The extraordinary variations in the
numbers of the insurgents may be partly accounted for by variations in
the readiness of pay. Koer Singh, when he left Oude, had barely five
hundred men in his train. As he marched, every straggling sepoy, every
embarrassed scoundrel with a sword, enlisted in his service. By the time
he reached Azimghur he had two thousand five hundred followers; most,
but not all, well armed. The flight across the river dispersed them once
more; and it was not till the check sustained by H.M. 35th that they
thronged to him again. Apparently the leaders are well aware of the
advantage this peculiarity affords. Thus, after their defeat by Sir E.
Lugard, the great bulk of the Behar insurgents vanished; the work was
apparently complete, and the military ends of the campaign to all
appearance accomplished. The leaders, however, remained in the jungle,
and in five days their followers were round them again; they had glided
back in twos and threes, by paths on which no European would be met.’
After many weeks of fatiguing duty in this region, Sir Edward Lugard,
worn with heat and sickness, resigned the command about the end of June;
handing over to Colonel Douglas the office of chasing the Jugdispore
rebels from place to place. Nor was it in that particular locality alone
that this duty had to be fulfilled. Ummer Singh, equalling his deceased
brother in activity, was no sooner defeated in one place than he made
his appearance in another, carrying discord into villages where his
presence was as little desired by natives as by Europeans. While Colonel
Douglas was on his way towards the scene of his new command, news
reached him that the English at Gayah had been driven into intrenchments
by a party of a hundred and fifty rebel prisoners, who had been set at
liberty by the native police employed to watch them, and were speedily
joined by the jail convicts; all—prisoners, police, and convicts—became
suddenly ‘patriots,’ and shewed their patriotism by threatening all the
officials at the station. This is believed to have been done by some
connivance with Ummer Singh. The Europeans at Gayah were thrown into a
great ferment by this visitation; the few troops present were withdrawn
into the intrenchment, as were likewise the civilians, ladies, and
children. No immediate attack followed; but the incident furnished one
among many proofs that the native police were, in most of the Bengal and
Hindostan provinces, a source of more danger than protection to the
British—except the Sikh police, who almost uniformly behaved well.
The transactions in Oude, during the month of June, told of rebels
defeated but not disbanded, weakened but not captured. There were many
leaders, and these required to be narrowly watched.
One of the first cares of the authorities was to place the important
city of Lucknow in such a state of defence as to render it safe from
attacks within and without. Various military works were planned by
Colonel Napier, and were executed by Major Crommelin after Napier’s
departure. From the vast extent of Lucknow, and the absence of any very
prominent features of the ground, it was a difficult city to defend
except by a large body of troops. The point which gave the nearest
approach to a command over the city was the old fort or Muchee Bhowan,
near which was the great Emanbarra, capable of sheltering a large number
of troops. It was decided to select several spots as military posts, to
clear the ground round those spots, and to open streets or roads of
communication from post to post. The Muchee Bhowan was selected as the
chief of these posts; a second was near the iron bridge leading over the
Goomtee to the Fyzabad road; a third was on the site of the Residency,
now a heap of ruins; a fourth was at the Moosa Bagh. All suburbs and
buildings lying on the banks of the river, likely to intercept the free
march of troops from the Muchee Bhowan to the Moosa Bagh, were ordered
to be swept away. Large masses of houses were also removed, to form good
military roads from the Muchee Bhowan to the Char Bagh, the Moosa Bagh,
the stone bridge, the iron bridge, and the old cantonment. The vast
range of palaces, such as the Fureed Buksh, the Chuttur Munzil, the
Kaiser Bagh, &c., were converted temporarily into barracks, and all the
streets and buildings near them either pulled down or thrown open. The
Martinière, the Dil Koosha, and Banks’s house, were formed into military
posts on the eastern side of the city. The two extremes of these posts,
from northwest to southeast, were not far short of seven miles asunder;
they would require a considerable number of troops for their occupancy
and defence; but under any circumstances such would be required in the
great capital of Oude for a long period to come.
The Alum Bagh continued to be maintained, as an important and useful
station on the road from Lucknow to Cawnpore. It was destined to live in
history as a place which Sir James Outram had defended for nearly four
months against armed forces estimated at little short of a hundred
thousand men. It was not originally a fort, only a palace in the midst
of a walled garden; but it presented facilities for being made into
useful shelter for troops. Another place, the bridge of Bunnee, over the
river Sye, was also carefully maintained as an important military post
between Lucknow and Cawnpore. During the latter part of May, the English
troops employed with Sir Hope Grant in various expeditions against the
enemy suffered severely from the heat; and it was found necessary to
give the 38th regiment a temporary sojourn in the Emanbarra at Lucknow,
supplying their place by the 53d. On the 3d of June the Bunnee force
moved out, to disperse a body of rebels who had posted themselves near
Pooroa. There was another duty of a singular kind intrusted to these
troops. The Rajah of Kupoorthully, a Sikh chieftain, who had rendered
valuable services to the government in time of need, received as a
reward an extensive jaghire or domain in Oude. In order that he might
defend both himself and British interests in that domain, he was
assisted in intrenching himself, and was supplied with guns, mortars,
and ammunition; this was irrespective of his own force of four thousand
Sikh troops.
Shortly after the opening of the month, rumours reached the authorities
at Lucknow that a body of rebels, estimated at seventeen or eighteen
thousand, had crossed the Gogra, and taken up a position at Ramnuggur
Dhumaree, under the orders of Gorhuccus Singh. The correctness of this
report was not certain—nor of others that Madhoo Singh was at the head
of five thousand rebels at Goosaengunje, Benee Madhoo with a small
number in the Poorwah district, and Dunkha Shah with a larger force near
Chinhut. Still, though these numbers were probably exaggerated by
alarmists, it was not considered prudent to leave the northeast region
of Oude unprotected. Accordingly, a movable column was organised, to
proceed towards Fyzabad.
Sir Hope Grant, intrusted at that time with the conduct of military
affairs in Oude, himself conducted an expedition towards the districts
just adverted to. A little before midnight on the 12th of June, acting
on information which had reached him, he marched from Lucknow to
Chinhut, and thence towards Nawabgunge, on the Fyzabad road. His force
consisted of the 2d and 3d battalions of the Rifle Brigade, the 5th
Punjaub Rifles, a detachment of Engineers and Sappers, the 7th Hussars,
two squadrons of the 2d Dragoon Guards, Hodson’s Horse, a squadron of
the first Sikh cavalry, a troop of mounted police, a troop of
horse-artillery, and two light field-batteries. Leaving a garrison
column at Chinhut, under Colonel Purnell, and intrusting the same
officer with the temporary charge of the baggage and supplies belonging
to the column, Sir Hope resumed his march during the night towards
Nawabgunge, where sixteen thousand rebels had assembled, with several
guns. By daylight on the following morning he crossed the Beti Nuddee at
Quadrigunje, by means of a ford. He had purposely adopted this route
instead of advancing to the bridge on the Fyzabad road; in order that,
after crossing the nullah, he might get between the enemy and a large
jungle. As a strong force of rebels defended the ford, a sharp
artillery-fire, kept up by Mackinnon’s horse-artillery and Johnson’s
battery, was necessary to effect this passage. Having surmounted this
obstacle, Sir Hope, approaching nearer to Nawabgunge, got into the
jungle district. Here the rebels made an attempt to surround him on all
sides, and pick off his men by repeated volleys of musketry. The general
speedily changed the aspect of affairs. He sent a troop of
horse-artillery to the front; Johnson’s battery and two squadrons of
horse were sent to defend the left; while a larger body confronted the
rebels on the right—where the enemy apparently expected to find and to
capture Sir Hope’s baggage. The struggle was very fierce, and the
slaughter of the rebels considerable; the enemy, fanatical as well as
numerous, gave exercise for all Grant’s boldness and sagacity in
contending with them. The victory was complete—and yet it was
indefinite; for the rebels, as usual, escaped, to renew their mischief
at some other time and place. Nearly six hundred of their number were
slain; the wounded were much more numerous. Hope Grant’s list of killed
and wounded numbered about a hundred. Many of the rebels were Ghazees or
Mohammedan fanatics, far more difficult to deal with than the mutinied
sepoys. Adverting to some of the operations on the right flank, Grant
said in his dispatch: ‘On arriving at this point, I found that a large
number of Ghazees, with two guns, had come out on the open plain, and
attacked Hodson’s Horse. I immediately ordered up the other four guns
under the command of Lieutenant Percival, and two squadrons of the 7th
Hussars under Major Sir W. Russell, and opened grape upon them within
three or four hundred yards with terrible effect. But the fanatics made
the most determined resistance; and two men in the midst of a shower of
grape brought forward two green standards, which they planted in the
ground beside their guns, and rallied their men. Captain Atherley’s two
companies of the 3d battalion Rifle Brigade at this moment advanced to
the attack, which obliged the rebels to move off. The cavalry then got
between them and the guns; and the 7th Hussars, led gallantly by Sir W.
Russell, supported by Hodson’s Horse under Major Daly, swept through
them—killing every man.’ Whatever may have been the causes, proximate or
remote, of the mutiny, it is quite evident that such Mussulman fanatics
as these, with their green flag of rebellion and their cries of ‘Deen!
deen!’ had been worked up, or had worked themselves up, to something
like a sincere belief that they were fighting for their religion.
The chief body of rebels, as has just been stated, succeeded in escaping
from Nawabgunge after the battle. They fled chiefly to Ramnuggur and
Mahadeo on the banks of the Gogra, and to Bhitowlie at the junction of
that river with the Chowka—with the apparent and probable intention of
throwing up earthworks for the defence of those positions.
Just about the time when Sir Hope Grant defeated these Nawabgunge
rebels—supposed to have been headed by the Begum of Oude and her
paramour Mummoo Khan—the career of the energetic Moulvie was suddenly
cut short at another. This remarkable man, Moulvie Ahmedullah Shah, died
as he had long lived, struggling against the Feringhees and all who
supported them. On the 15th of June, after having been driven from place
to place by the various British columns and detachments, he arrived from
Mohumdee at Powayne, a town about sixteen miles northeast of
Shahjehanpoor. He had with him a considerable body of horse, and some
guns. The Rajah of Powayne, named Juggernath Singh, having incurred the
displeasure of the Moulvie by sheltering two native servants of the
Company, was attacked by him. Juggernath Singh, and his two brothers
Buldeo Singh and Komul Singh, went out to confront the Moulvie as best
they could. A skirmish ensued, which lasted three hours. The most
notable result was the death of the Moulvie; he received a shot, and
fell; his head was at once severed; and the Rajah sent the head and
trunk to Shahjehanpoor, to be delivered to Mr Gilbert Money, the
commissioner. Glad as the British may have been to get rid of a
formidable enemy, it is doubtful whether Mr Money received the bleeding
gift with much gratification. The Rajah of Powayne, however, had long
been an object of suspicion, on account of his unfeeling conduct towards
some of the poor fugitives in the early days of the Revolt; and as the
British cause was now obviously the winning cause, he was anxious, by
his alacrity in dealing with the dead body of the Moulvie, to win favour
with the authorities. A very large reward had been offered by the
government to whoever could capture the Moulvie; and although some doubt
was expressed whether this was intended to apply as well to the bleeding
corpse as to the living man, the reward was paid to the Powayne
chieftain.
[Illustration:
Principal Street in Lucknow.
]
It was unquestionably a great gain to the British to know that the
Moulvie was really removed from the field of strife. As to the Begum,
she still remained unsubdued, moving from place to place according as
she could gather a large body of adherents around her. It was about the
second week in June, so far as is rendered apparent by the
correspondence, that she received Jung Bahadoor’s very decisive
rejection of the appeal made by her for his alliance, lately adverted
to; and as she lost nearly at the same time her able coadjutor the
Moulvie, her prospects became more gloomy. Of Nena Sahib, little more
could be said than that he was true to his character—a coward in all
things. Where he was at any particular time, the British seldom
certainly knew: he had not the courage of the Moulvie, or the Begum, or
the Ranee.
In connection rather with the province of Goruckpore than with that of
Oude, though nearly on the boundary-line between the two, must be
mentioned two encounters in which the naval brigade honourably
distinguished itself. The _Shannon’s_ seamen, it will be remembered,
supplied a naval brigade under the lamented Captain Sir William Peel,
for service in Oude; but there was also another brigade furnished by the
_Pearl_, of which Captain Sotheby was commander. During May and June,
this brigade was associated with certain troops and marines in the
maintenance of order on the Goruckpore frontier of Oude. While on
detached service, Major Cox and Lieutenant Turnour came in contact with
the enemy on the 9th of June. The lieutenant had under him two
12-pounder howitzers, a 24-pounder rocket-tube, and about fifty seamen
of the _Pearl’s_ crew; Lieutenant Pym had the control of about twenty
marines from the same ship; while Major Cox, who commanded the whole
detachment, had under him a small military force comprising two hundred
men of the 13th light infantry, two troops of Madras cavalry, two troops
of Bengal cavalry, and twenty Sikhs. It was altogether a singular medley
of combatants. Having heard that Mahomed Hussein was occupying the
neighbouring village of Amorha or Amorah in great force, Major Cox
resolved to attack him. He divided his detachment into two parts, one
headed by himself, and the other by Major Richardson. The seamen and
marines were attached to Richardson’s party. Starting at two o’clock in
the morning, they marched along the road leading through the village.
When within a mile of Amorah, they received a heavy fire from the rebel
skirmishers; these were immediately attacked and driven in by Pym and
the marines; while the guns threw shot and shell on the main body.
Attempting to retreat on the other flank, Cox met and frustrated them;
and the result of the skirmish was a decisive abandonment of the village
by the rebels. Nine days afterwards another force, similar in
constitution but larger in numbers, comprising in its naval element
about a hundred and ten seamen, set out from Captangunje to make another
attack on Mahomed Hussein, who was posted with four thousand rebels at
Hurreah, about eight miles off. On approaching near Hurreah, the enemy’s
skirmishers were descried thrown across the river Gogra, screened in
thick bamboo jungles, villages, topes of trees, and a dry nullah.
British skirmishers were quickly sent on ahead, drove in the enemy, and
waded the river after them up to their waists; the guns followed, and
the enemy were driven from tope to tope, and from every place of
concealment, and chased for four miles. The heat was tremendous;
insomuch that seven hours’ marching, fighting, and pursuing nearly
knocked up officers and men. Mahomed Hussein, however, was severely
defeated, and this was deemed a sufficient reward for all the fatigues
and privations. The _Pearl’s_ naval brigade counted this as the tenth
time in which it had been in action in nine months.
It may be here mentioned that an endeavour was made, towards the end of
June, to estimate the number of thalookdars and other petty chieftains
who were in arms against the British in the province of Oude; together
with the amount of force at their disposal. The estimate was not wholly
reliable, for the means of obtaining correct information were very
deficient. The list published in some of the Bombay newspapers,
professing to be the nearest attainable approach to the truth, included
the names of about thirty-five ‘thalookdars,’ ‘rajahs,’ and
‘chuckladars,’ holding among them about twenty-five mud-forts, with
nearly a hundred guns, and forty thousand armed retainers. The chief
items in this curious list were—‘The three chuckladars Mahomed Hussein,
Mehndee Hussein, and Shaik Padil Imam, have twenty-three guns and ten
thousand men massed about Sultanpore; some occupying Saloun, ten kos
from Roy Bareilly’—‘At Nain, within nine kos of Roy Bareilly, four
thalookdars, named Juggernath Buksh, Bugwan Buksh, Bussunth Singh, and
Juggernath (?), have collected eight guns and six thousand men’—‘Banie
Madhao, thalookdar; at Sukerpore, a strong fort surrounded by jungle, a
few kos from Roy Bareilly; nineteen guns and eight thousand men’—‘Rajah
Ali Buksh Khan, at Moham, a small fort twenty-five kos east of Lucknow;
five guns and fifteen hundred men.’ Most of the rebel gatherings here
adverted to were in the region around Roy Bareilly, southeast of
Lucknow.
But notwithstanding these high-sounding names and formidable numbers,
the cause of regular government in Oude was gradually advancing. The
rebels could no longer endanger; they could only annoy. Mr Montgomery,
at Lucknow, intrusted with large powers by the governor-general, was
gradually feeling his way. While Crommelin took charge of the immediate
defence of that city, and Hope Grant was grappling with the rebels in
the open field, Montgomery was employed in re-establishing the network
of judicial and revenue organisation, as favourable opportunities arose.
The Rajah of Kapoorthully, lately adverted to, undertook the defence of
the region between the Bunnee and Cawnpore; while Hope Grant kept a
vigilant eye on the centre of Oude. The astute and double-dealing Maun
Singh was placed in a singular position. He was distrusted by both
parties, because he would not openly side with one against the other. As
the chieftain of Shahgunje, on the river Gogra, very near the eastern
frontier of Oude, he would be formidable either as a friend or a foe. He
had a fort, guns, and men at his command. There could be no question
that for thirteen months he had been watching the progress of events, to
determine in which balance to throw his sword; and it was equally
evident that he was gradually recognising more and more the value of
English friendship—as a consequence, he was bitterly disliked by the
rebel leaders. Taking a view of the state of Oude generally during June,
it is necessary to make a distinction between the earlier and the later
days of the month. The former was much less favourable than the latter.
It could not truthfully be said that the pacification proceeded rapidly.
Injury was wrought by the party-tactics concerning the famous
proclamation penned by Viscount Canning and condemned by the Earl of
Ellenborough. The violent discussions arising out of that collision of
opinion could not be wholly concealed from the natives of India. It
cannot be doubted that many of the reckless and unscrupulous speeches
made in the British parliament became known to, and cherished by, the
insurgent chieftains. When a halo of suffering virtue was thrown around
the Oudian royal family, and when the Queen of England’s viceroy in
India was spoken of almost as a murderer and robber, the power of the
government became necessarily shaken, and the difficulties of
pacification increased. The proclamation was modified; nay, Mr
Montgomery received discretionary powers to determine whether, and when,
and where there should be a proclamation at all—the governor-general
wisely leaving it to his sagacity to be guided by the circumstance of
time and place. At the beginning of June little had been effected
towards winning the submission of the malcontent thalookdars and
chuckladars; the hopes of successful rebellion had not been sufficiently
damped. Nevertheless, as the month advanced, and when the Moulvie was
dead and the Gwalior rebels beaten, the Oudian landowners, by ones and
twos, began to look out for a compromise, which might enable them safely
to abandon a losing cause. One of the most embarrassing difficulties
perhaps was this—that the rebel leaders made instant war against any
thalookdars or chuckladars who gave in their submission to the British
government under the modified proclamation—thereby deterring the more
timid landowners from the adoption of this course. Maun Singh himself
was besieged by an insurgent force; but his means of resistance were
considerable.
One of the evidences afforded that the pacification of Oude was
considered to be gradually approaching, was the disbandment of the corps
of Volunteer Cavalry, which was composed almost wholly of officers and
gentlemen, and which had rendered such eminent services at a time when
European troops were doubly precious from their extreme rarity. In a
notification issued at Calcutta, Viscount Canning, after mentioning some
of the arrangements connected with the disbanding, thus spoke of the
services of the corps: ‘The Volunteer Cavalry took a prominent part in
all the successes which marked the advance of the late Major-general Sir
Henry Havelock from Allahabad to Lucknow; and on every occasion of its
employment against the rebels—whether on the advance to Lucknow, or as
part of the force with which Major-general Sir James Outram held Alum
Bagh—this corps has greatly distinguished itself by its gallantry in
action, and by its fortitude and endurance under great exposure and
fatigue. The governor-general offers to Major Barrow, who ably commanded
the Volunteer Cavalry, and boldly led them in all the operations in
which they were engaged, his most cordial acknowledgments for his very
valuable services: and to Captain Lynch, and all the officers and men
who composed this corps, his lordship tenders his best thanks for the
eminent good conduct and exemplary courage which they displayed during
the whole time that the corps was embodied.’ The farewell of Sir James
Outram was more hearty, because less official.[181]
Directing our attention next to the Doab and Rohilcund, it becomes at
once apparent that organisation and systematic government made great
advances during the month of June. The Doab no longer contained any
large body of armed rebels. There were numerous smaller bands, but these
bands chiefly made use of the Doab as a route of passage. The hopes of
the rebel leaders were directed mainly towards two regions—Oude, on the
north of the Ganges; and Central India, on the south of the Jumna.
According as the fortunes of war (or rather depredation) tended in the
one direction or the other, so did groups of armed insurgents cross, or
attempt to cross, those rivers by means of the ghâts or ferries. If the
chances for rebel success appeared stronger at Lucknow or Fyzabad,
Bareilly or Shahjehanpoor, this current tended northward, or rather
northeastward: if Calpee or Jhansi, Gwalior or Jeypoor, excited the
hopes of the insurgents, the current took an opposite direction. The
Doab, in either case, was regarded rather as a line of transit than as a
field of contest. Sir Colin Campbell, well acquainted with this fact,
devoted a portion of his attention to the ghâts on the two great rivers.
It became very important to check if possible the marching and
countermarching of the rebels across the Doab; and several columns and
detachments of troops were engaged in this duty during the month now
under notice. The success of the few actual encounters depended very
much on the course of events in Scindia’s dominions, narrated in the
last chapter. When Gwalior fell into the hands of Tanteea Topee and his
associates, all the turbulent chieftains in the surrounding districts
displayed an audacity and hopefulness which they had not exhibited
during the preceding month; but when Sir Hugh Rose reconquered that
city, and replaced Scindia on his throne, timidity succeeded to
audacity, misgiving to hopefulness.
The commander-in-chief, after his participation in the reconquest and
pacification of Rohilcund, returned to his former quarters at Futteghur,
where he remained until the second week in June. Throughout the month he
was personally engaged in no hostilities; he was occupied either in
studying how to give his heat-worn soldiers repose, or how best to
employ those whose services in the field were still indispensable. The
governor-general much desired his presence at Allahabad, to confer with
him personally on the military arrangements necessary during the summer
and autumn. It afforded a significant proof of the scattered position of
the British forces, that during the first week in June there were no
soldiers that could be spared to escort Sir Colin from Futteghur to
Allahabad. Quiet as the Doab was, compared with its condition earlier in
the year, there were still rebel bands occasionally crossing and
recrossing it, and these bands would have hazarded much to capture a
prize so important as the commander-in-chief of the Anglo-Indian army.
He could not safely move without an escort, and he had to delay his
journey until a few troops came in from Shahjehanpoor and other
stations. While at Futteghur he caused a search to be made in the
bazaars of that place and Furruckabad for sulphur, in order that any
stores of that substance might be seized by and for the government. The
rebels of the various provinces still possessed many guns; the
chieftains and landowners still owned more weapons of various kinds than
they chose to acknowledge to the government; there was iron for the
making of cannon-balls; there were charcoal and saltpetre towards the
making of gunpowder; but there was one ingredient, sulphur, without
which all the firearms of the insurgents would be useless; and as
sulphur was an imported article in India, the government made attempts
to obtain possession of any stores of that substance that might be in
doubtful hands. Percussion-caps, too, were becoming scarce among the
rebels; and, the materials and machinery for making more being wanting,
they were perforce superseded by the less effective matchlock.
The state of the Doab at that time is well told in connection with a
journey made by Mr Russell. After the Rohilcund campaign was over, this
active journalist looked about him to determine what was best worth
seeing and describing, in reference to his special duties. If he went
with or after Sir Colin to Allahabad, he would get to the head-quarters
of politics, where very few stirring military operations were to be
witnessed; if he went northeast into Oude, or southwest into Central
India, he might, after much danger and difficulty, become involved in
the movements of some flying column, ill assorting with the necessities
of a lame man—for he still suffered from an injury by a kick from a
horse. Mr Russell therefore resolved upon a journey through the Upper
Doab from Futteghur to Delhi, and thence by Umballa to the healthy
hill-station of Simla. He travelled by Bhowgong, Eytah, Gosaigunje, and
Allygurh, meeting with ample evidence on the way of the ruin resulting
from thirteen months of anarchy. Of the dâk bungalows or stations he
says: ‘Let no one understand by this a pleasant roadside hostelry with
large out-offices, spacious court-yard, teams of horses, and hissing
ostlers; rather let him see a mud-hovel by the way, standing out, the
only elevation in the dead level of baked earth, a few trees under which
are tethered some wretched horses, and a group of men’—whose dress
consisted of little beyond a turban. From Bhowgong to Eytah the country
looked like a desert; and by the roadside, at intervals of ten miles or
less, were thannahs or police-stations—small one-storied houses, bearing
traces of the destructiveness of the rebel leader which had so often
swept the district. He crossed the Kallee Nuddee at a point where the
Company had never yet introduced the civilised agency of a regular
bridge. The gharry was pushed and dragged down a shelving bank of loose
sand, and then over a rickety creaky bridge of boats—the native
attendants making much use of the primitive distended bladders and
earthen jars as floating supporters. Arrived at Eytah, he found the
place little other than a heap of blackened ruins, with enclosures
broken down and trees lopped off at the stem. Yet here were three
Englishmen, civil servants of the Company, engaged in re-establishing
the machinery of regular government. Mr Russell, like every one else,
tried all the varieties of language to express adequately the tremendous
heat of an Indian June. He left Eytah at two in the afternoon. ‘The
gharry was like an oven; the metal-work burning so that it could not be
borne in contact with the hand for an instant. The wind reminded me of
the deadly blast which swept over us on the march to Futteghur that
dreadful morning when we left Rohilcund. Not a tree to shade the road;
on each side a parched, dull, dun-coloured plain, with the waving
heat-lines dancing up and down over its blighted surface; and whirling
dust-storms or “devils,” as they are called, careering to and fro as if
in demoniac glee in their own infernal region. On such a day as this
Lake’s men (half a century earlier) fell file after file on their
dreadful journey. Could I have found shelter, I would gladly have
stopped, for even the natives suffered, and the horses were quite done
up; but in India, in peace and war, one’s motto must be “No backward
step!”—so on we went.’ After passing through many small towns and poor
villages, in which half the houses were either ruined or shut up, he
reached Allygurh, where, ‘being late, there was nothing ready at the
bungalow but mosquitoes.’ Pursuing his journey, he at length reached
Delhi.
The imperial city was now wholly and safely under British control.
Sentries guarded the bridge of boats over the Jumna, allowing no native
to pass without scrutiny; the fort of the Selimgurh was garrisoned by a
small but trusty detachment. The plan, once contemplated, of destroying
the defences, had not been adopted; the majestic wall, though shattered
and ball-pierced in parts, remained in other respects entire. The
defences were, altogether, calculated to strike a stranger with
surprise, at the height and solidity of the wall, the formidable nature
of the bastions, the depth and width of the dry ditch, the completeness
of the glacis, and the security of such of the gates as had not been
battered down or blown in. Some of the streets of the city had escaped
the havoc of war; but others exhibited the effects of bombardment and
assault in a terrible degree, although nine months of peaceful
occupation had intervened; houses pitted with marks of shot and bullet,
public buildings shattered and half in ruins, trees by the wayside split
and rent, doors and windows splintered, gables torn out of houses,
jagged holes completely through the walls. Half the houses in the city
were shut; and the other half had not yet regained their regular steady
inhabitants. The mighty palace of the Moguls was nearly as grand as ever
on the outside; but all within displayed a wreck of oriental splendour.
The exquisite Dewani Khas, when Mr Russell was there, instead of being
filled with turbaned and bejewelled rajahs, Mogul guards, and oriental
magnificence, as in the olden days, was occupied by British
infantry—infantry, too, engaged in the humblest of barrack domestic
duties. ‘From pillar to pillar and column to column extended the
graceful arches of the clothes-line, with shirts and socks and drawers
flaunting in the air in lieu of silken banners. Long lines of charpoys
or bedsteads stretched from one end of the hall to the other—arms were
piled against the columns—pouches, belts, and bayonets depended from the
walls; and in the place where once blazed the fabulous glories of the
peacock’s throne, reclined a private of her Majesty’s 61st, of a very
Milesian type of countenance.’
[Illustration:
SURAT.—From a View in the Library of the East India Company.
]
The old king still remained a prisoner at Delhi. The drivelling, sensual
descendant of Tamerlane, shorn of everything that could impart dignity,
occupied some of the smaller apartments of the palace, with a few of his
wives, children, and grandchildren, near him. All were fretful and
discontented, as they well might be: for they had nothing to see,
nowhere to go, no honours to receive, no magnificence to luxuriate in.
When interrogated by visitors concerning the early days of the Revolt,
he was peevish, and wished to change the subject; and when his youngest
begum, and his son Jumma Bukht, were induced to converse, the absence of
family unity—if such a thing is possible in an oriental palace—was
apparent enough.
Considered politically, Delhi had the great advantage, during the spring
months, of being placed under Sir John Lawrence. The province which
contained the once imperial city was detached from the ‘northwestern’
group, and made—with Sirhind, the Punjaub, and the Peshawur Valley—one
compact and extensive government, under the control of one who, morally
speaking, was perhaps the greatest man in India. It was necessary to
reconstruct a government; but much careful consideration was needed
before the principle of construction could be settled. If the peaceful
industrious population would return to their homes and occupations,
their presence would doubtless be welcome; but the neighbouring villages
still swarmed with desperate characters, whose residence in Delhi would
be productive of evil. Many of the better class of natives feared that
the imperial city would never recover; that the injury which its
buildings had received during the siege, the disturbance of trade by the
hurried exit of the regular inhabitants, the enormous losses by plunder
and forfeiture, and the break-up of the imperial establishment in the
palace, had combined to inflict a blow which would be fatal to the once
great Mogul capital. Delhi, nevertheless, had outlived many terrible
storms; and these prognostications might be destined to fail.
[Illustration:
LAHORE.
]
One consequence of the steady occupation of Delhi during the winter and
spring was the gradual departure of troops to other districts where they
were more needed. Among these was one of the native regiments. The
‘gallant little Goorkhas,’ as the British troops were accustomed to
designate the soldiers of the Sirmoor and Kumaon battalions, held their
high reputation to the very last. The Sirmoor battalion had marched down
to Delhi at the very beginning of the disturbances, and during more than
twelve months had been on continuous duty in and near that region. The
time had now come when a respite could be given to their labours. They
took their departure to the healthy hill-station of Deyrah Dhoon. As
they marched out of Delhi, headed by their commandant, Colonel Reid,
they were escorted over the bridge by the 2d Bengal Europeans, who
cheered them lustily, and inspirited them with a melody, the meaning of
which they had perchance by this time learned—‘_Should auld acquaintance
be forgot_.’ An officer, well familiar with these ‘jolly little
Goorkhas,’ remarked on this occasion: ‘There is not in military history
a brighter or purer page than the record of the services and faithful
conduct of the Sirmoor Goorkha battalion during the past year. First in
the field, always in front, prominent, and incessantly fighting
throughout the entire campaign and siege-operations before Delhi, the
regiment has covered itself with honour and glory. In our darkest days,
there was never a whisper, a suspicion, the shadow of a doubt of the
honest loyalty and fidelity of these brave, simple-minded, and devoted
soldiers. When others turned traitors, robbers, assassins, these rushed
without a moment’s hesitation to our side, fought the good fight, bled,
and died, faithful to their salt, honourable and true to the last.’
The Punjaub—at Lahore and all the other cities and stations—was so
steadily and watchfully governed, that no disturbances took place except
of a very slight character—personally distressing, it is true, but not
nationally or politically of any moment. One such was the following: On
a certain day a number of disbanded sepoys, who had long before taken
refuge in Cashmere, recrossed the frontiers, and attacked the Christians
stationed at a place called Madhopore; they murdered a few, including
children, under circumstances of great barbarity. No other reason could
be assigned for this brutality than a vengeful thirst for European
blood. Hastily they crossed again into Cashmere, taking with them a
quantity of plunder. A demand was at once made upon the chief of
Cashmere, Rumbeer Singh, to capture and give them up; which demand was
shortly afterwards attended to, although he had exhibited a little
remissness in this matter in one or two former instances. The Rajah of
Cashmere was not wholly unsuspected, indeed, of unfavourable views
towards the British; and, with a less firm man than John Lawrence at his
elbow, he might possibly have made his mountain territory a retreat for
rebels.
Sinde, the land of the Indus, remained firmly in the hands of Mr Frere
and General Jacob, the one as civil commissioner and the other as
military commandant. At one period during the month, however, Frere was
called upon to settle a question of religious zealotry, which might have
kindled into a flame if not promptly dealt with. A Mohammedan of
respectable character came to him, while at Hydrabad, and complained of
an inscription on the inner wall of an open-fronted shop belonging to
the Christian Mission. The inscription comprised one or two quotations
from the Koran, and an argument to disprove the divine authority of the
Prophet of Islam, from the evidence of the Koran itself. It was prepared
and written, in the Sindhi and Arabic languages, by the Rev. Mr
Matchett; and the Rev. Mr Gell caused it to be conspicuously exhibited
in the open shop where Bibles were sold or distributed. The complainant
was one Gholam Ali, a Mohammedan lately returned from a pilgrimage to
Mecca. He stated to Mr Frere that the inscription, visible to all the
passers-by in the main bazaar of the city, was irritating and offensive
to the Mohammedans. Mr Frere read the inscription; and in afterwards
explaining to Lord Elphinstone the reasons which determined his decision
on the subject, he said: ‘I am willing to be judged by any one who has
any acquaintance with the ordinary feelings of a bigoted Mohammedan
population as to the probable effects of such a placard on them. I feel
confident that any such unprejudiced person would agree with me, that
there was much danger of its causing an outbreak of fanatical violence;
and holding that opinion, I cannot think that I should have been
justified in allowing it to remain. It is quite possible it might never
have caused any breach of the peace; but I did not think the present a
time to try unnecessary experiments as to how much a fanatical native
population will or will not bear in the way of provocation.’ Mr Frere
wrote to the Rev. Mr Gell, the mission-superintendent, requesting him to
remove the inscription; on the ground that, however well meant, it might
produce more harm than good. This proceeding led to a violent outcry on
the part of the missionaries and their supporters, and to an erroneous
narrative forwarded to the government of Bombay—accusing Mr Frere of
encouraging Mohammedanism and insulting Christianity. It was one of
those numerous occasions, presented during the course of the Revolt and
its suppression, in which the governing authorities had much difficulty
in steering clearly through the opposite dangers of two religious
extremes.
Sir Hugh Rose’s operations in Central India during the month of June
were treated so fully in the last chapter, that little need be added
here on the subject. The recapture of Gwalior was the great event; all
the operations in Rajpootana, Bundelcund, Goojerat, and Holkar’s
territory, were subordinate to it. When the month closed, General
Roberts, with the ‘Rajpootana Field-force,’ was on the march from
Nuseerabad to Jeypoor, to check the progress of the Gwalior fugitives in
that direction. Brigadier Showers was at or near Futtehpore Sikri,
guarding the Agra route. Major Ramsey was advancing from Rohilcund with
the Kumaon battalion. The English residents at Jeypoor and Bhurtpore
were actively engaged in supporting, so far as was practicable, the
loyal tendencies of the rajahs of those two states, so as to enable them
to resist the rebels if the latter were to enter either of those cities.
The doubt was, not so much of the rajahs, as of the soldiery in their
pay, whose fidelity could not wholly be relied on. The main body of
Gwalior fugitives were at that time somewhere near Hindoun, a town about
equidistant from Gwalior, Agra, and Jeypoor; whether they were about to
advance to Ummerpore on the Jeypoor road, to Mhow on the Ulwar road, or
to any other point, was not well known. Indeed, the rebels themselves
seemed to be divided in opinion as to their future movements; they were
looking around, to find some rajah, nawab, or nazim who would join them
in rebellion; but those chieftains were becoming more and more cautious
how they committed themselves in this way. The spectacle of rajahs blown
away from guns, and nawabs hung from gallows, was by no means
encouraging.
General Whitlock’s field-force, at the end of June, was distributed in
various parts of Bundelcund, keeping in subjection the petty chieftains
here and there in arms; for there was no longer anything like a
formidable army of rebels opposed to him. Brigadier Carpenter, with
three or four hundred men, and two guns, was at Kirkee. Major Dallas,
with the 1st Madras N.I., was assisting the civil authorities in
re-establishing the revenue and judicial departments. Colonel Reede,
with two hundred men and two guns, was sent to look after the safety of
Humeerpoor and its neighbourhood. Brigadier Macduff, with a portion of
H.M. 43d foot, went to Calpee. Brigadier Munsey, with a small column of
infantry, cavalry, and artillery, was sent to Nowgong, to protect a
convoy of stores on their way from Saugor. The remainder of the force
encamped for a while at Banda as head-quarters, having with them Narain
Rao and Madhoo Rao as prisoners, a large number of guns, and a
considerable amount of treasure and jewels captured from the rebels.
Whitlock’s long-continued exertions, although not attended by any great
battles, had gradually restored something like tranquillity to this
distracted region. Bundelcund and the Saugor territory, from the Jumna
to the Nerbudda, had for nearly twelve months been in a miserable
condition. The various bands of mutineers passing from Dinapoor and
elsewhere wrought great mischief; powerful villages preyed upon their
weaker neighbours; and the self-installed nawabs and rajahs extorted
every farthing they could get from the peasantry and towns-people. Many
villages were completely deserted; many more had been burned to the
ground, and the people plundered of all the grain and other property
which they possessed. The lesson which the peaceful natives had received
from the rebels was a severe one, calculated to teach them the
advantages of regular government under British influence.
Among the many ‘field-forces’ which about this time were broken up, to
relieve the troops from some of their exhausting labours in fiercely hot
weather, was a small one called the ‘Satpoora Field-force.’ Satpoora is
a town in Holkar’s Mahratta dominions, about seventy-five miles
southeast of Indore, and very near the boundary of the Nagpoor
territory. Satpoora also gives name to a range of mountains which,
running east and west, separates the valley of the Taptee from that of
the Nerbudda; and it was in this sense that the designation ‘Satpoora
Field-force’ was given to a small body of troops collected for the
defence of the region in question. Major Evans, commanding this force,
took farewell of his men on the 22d of June. In an order or address,
dated from his camp at Jalwana, he thanked Captain Sealey and the
artillery, Captain Langston and the Rifles, Captain Baugh and the 9th
Bombay N.I., Captain Briggs and the 19th, Lieutenant Latouche and the
Poonah horse—being the components of his force. He made special mention
of a certain encounter on the 11th of April; ‘when the insurgents,
posted in positions from which they supposed they could not be driven,
were at once attacked at three different points; and despite a most
obstinate and deadly resistance, were signally defeated and dispersed.’
He proceeded in commendatory terms to state that ‘the effect on the
enemy has been so dispiriting that they have never again dared to
collect in force; the disaffected chiefs themselves wandering about in
concealment. The force has therefore been disappointed in not being able
again to shew their prowess, which all were so eager to do, and would
have done so well, had opportunity offered.’
Gujerat, the Guicowar’s territory—situated south of Rajpootana, and west
of Holkar’s territory—had, it will be remembered, been most happily and
effectively disarmed by Sir Richmond Shakespear, political resident at
the court of the Guicowar; thereby lessening the probability of any
hostile outbreak. Gujerat became subject, however, during this month, to
one of those strange mysteries in which orientals so much delight. The
lotus, and the chupatties, and the ‘something white,’ had had their day;
and now arose the mystery of _twigs_. It was ascertained that twigs or
small branches had been circulated from village to village in the
province of Gujerat, as signals or watchwords; but nothing could be
learned concerning their meaning. An ancient custom existed in many
parts of India, of measuring the footprints with straws or twigs
whenever a robbery had been committed, then forwarding them from village
to village, until the measurement was found to implicate some one
villager; after which the village was made responsible. This and many
other ancient customs were referred to; but nothing appeared to throw
light on the meaning of the twigs thus transmitted through Gujerat.
To assist in the maintenance of tranquillity in the Deccan, a small
field-force, composed of troops selected from the Poonah division of the
Bombay army, was made up, and placed under the command of Colonel Gall.
Starting from Poonah, the colonel arrived at Aurungabad on the 8th of
June, and resumed his march on the following day to Jaulnah, a military
station in the northwest corner of the Nizam’s dominions. Large bands of
Rohilla marauders, expelled from the city of Hyderabad by the Nizam’s
troops, were known to be in various villages in the Jaulnah district;
and it was deemed expedient to hold Colonel Gall’s force in readiness to
watch and disperse these men, lest their machinations should assume a
military form. A new cavalry corps named Beatson’s Horse assisted in
this object. This corps, organised by and under the active officer of
that name, consisted of recruits from various parts of the Deccan, for
active service in any regions where their presence might be deemed most
useful. At present, their quarters were at Jaulnah, where they were
regularly picketed around the encampment at night. Arrangements were
also made for strengthening the Jaulnah district with a wing of the 92d
Highlanders, and with several guns.
Of the presidency of Bombay it may happily be said that—partly owing to
the scarcity of the Poorbeah element in the native army, partly to the
sagacious and energetic government of Lord Elphinstone—the curse of
rebellion was rendered very little apparent. Sinde, placed temporarily
under that presidency, was well looked after by Mr Frere; Gujerat was
safe under Sir Richmond Shakespear; Rajpootana was watched by the
vigilant eye of General Roberts; while the northern Mahratta states, so
far as they were subject to Bombay influence, were under the care of Sir
Robert Hamilton.
Certain occurrences in the South Mahratta country, however, deserve to
be noticed both in their political and their military phases.
Nothing is more certain than that many of the insurgent bodies in India
rose in arms on account of personal or local matters, bearing little
relation to the great military revolt, or to the so-called national
rebellion. The derangement of regular government furnished opportunity
for those who had real or assumed grievances. An example of this kind
was furnished in the South Mahratta country. The natives of one of the
least known districts south of Bombay had been in the habit of cutting
down trees wherever they pleased, for the purpose of planting the
cleared ground with various kinds of grain. The Bombay government at
length put a stop to this wholesale destruction of timber. This stoppage
was looked upon by the natives as an infringement of their ‘vested
rights.’ A mischief-maker—one of the many usually at hand when the
populace are excited—appeared in the person of the Rajah of Jumbote, a
place southwest of Belgaum. He believed, or persuaded the people to
believe, that Nena Sahib held Poonah with a large force; that the
British troops were kept in check almost everywhere; and that it was a
favourable time for a rise against the constituted authorities who held
sway there. Another cause for disaffection arose out of the Hindoo
custom of adoption; and this was felt in the South Mahratta country as
in other parts of India. Many circumstances arose during the Revolt,
shewing that the natives are familiar with and attached to this custom.
When a prince, a chief, or a landowner, had no legitimate heir, it was
customary for him to name a successor or heir, generally from among his
kinsmen. So long as the East India Company had no territorial rights in
a particular province or region, there was no motive for interfering
with this custom; but self-interest afterwards stepped in, in a way that
may be very easily explained. The Company, we will suppose, made a
treaty with a native prince, to the effect that a certain state or a
certain revenue should belong to him ‘and his heirs for ever.’ If he had
no legitimate heir, the Company was tempted to seize the golden prize
after his death, under the plea that the _adopted_ son was not a true
representative. A Hindoo custom was interpreted in an English sense,
and, being found wanting, was disallowed; thereby enriching the Company.
English lawyers found no difficulty in supporting this course of
proceeding, because it was consistent with English law. It was not,
however, until the governor-generalship of the Marquis of Dalhousie,
that this kind of confiscation was extensively acted on; and hence the
interval between 1848 and 1858 was marked by much more irritation among
native princely families, than had been before exhibited in connection
with this particular subject. Be it right or wrong, thus to interpret a
Hindoo usage by an English test, the history of the Revolt plainly
shewed that many of the bitterest enemies of the government were persons
whose domains or revenues had been disturbed by a refusal of the Company
to acknowledge the principle of adoption in heirship. The miscreant Nena
Sahib, the spirited but unscrupulous Ranee of Jhansi, many of the
princes of the house of Delhi, and others whose names and deeds have
often been recorded in these pages, had—for some years preceding the
outbreak—brooded over their real or fancied wrongs in some such matters
as these. Is it matter for surprise that they welcomed a day of
revenge—a day that might possibly restore to them that of which they
deemed themselves unjustly deprived?
The Rajah of Nargoond was one of those to whom, in a minor degree, this
principle applied. He was a South Mahratta prince, holding a small
territory eastward of Dharwar—separated from Bombay by the once
disturbed Kolapore district. Being one of the tributaries to the Bombay
government, he petitioned for leave to adopt an heir to his raj or
rajahship; and the result of this petition was such as to render him a
bitter enemy. His enmity made itself apparent about the date to which
this chapter relates, in intrigues with the malcontents around him. A
ruthless murder brought matters to an issue. Mr Manson, political agent
for the South Mahratta country, having cause to suspect the rajah, set
out from Belgaum to seek a personal interview with him, in the hope of
dissuading him from rebel movements. They had been on terms of intimacy,
which seemed to justify this hope. On the evening of the 29th of May, Mr
Manson reached Ramdroog—the chieftain of which advised him to be on his
guard, as the Rajah of Nargoond could not be relied on. The unhappy
gentleman, believing otherwise, pushed on towards Nargoond. That same
night his palanquin was surrounded by a body of the rajah’s troops at
Soorbund, fifteen miles from Nargoond, and the political agent was
foully murdered, together with most of his escort.
The Bombay government at once issued orders to attack the insurgents,
and deal severely with the disaffected chieftains. It had been already
ascertained that in the Dharwar collectorate, besides the Rajah of
Nargoond, there were Bheem Rao of Moondurg, and the Desaee of Hembegee,
to be confronted. The South Mahratta country, being near the
boundary-line between the Bombay and Madras presidencies, had facilities
for receiving small bodies of troops from two directions, to quell any
disturbances that might arise. A Madras column, setting out from Bellary
under Major Hughes, proceeded northward, and invested the stronghold of
Bheem Rao at Kopal or Copal. A message was sent to this chief, giving
him three hours to remove the women and children from the place. He
returned no answer; whereupon a cannonade was opened. A breach was made
practicable; a storming-party entered; the rebels gave way at every
point; and very speedily the town and fort were in Major Hughes’s
possession. Bheem Rao himself, as well as Kenchengowda, the Desaee of
Hembegee, were among the slain on this occasion. While Hughes was thus
occupied at Kopal, a small column of Bombay troops was engaged in
another part of the South Mahratta country. Three or four hundred men,
with two guns, started from Belgaum under Captain Paget, and joined a
party of Mahratta horse under Colonel Malcolm at Noolgoond. They
advanced on the 1st of June to Nargoond, the stronghold of the rebel
rajah. This stronghold consisted of a fortress on the summit of a rock
eight hundred feet high, with the town at its base. A reconnaissance
being made, it was found that nearly two thousand rebels were encamped
about a mile out of the town; and the rajah could be seen, on an
elephant, brandishing his sword. Malcolm sent on the Mahratta horse to
commence the attack; with the two guns, two companies of the 74th
Highlanders, and one of the 28th Bombay infantry, to support. Of
fighting there was scarcely any; the rebels very soon fled from the
plain and the town, and left them in the hands of Malcolm. The
rock-fortress, however, still remained unconquered. Early in the morning
of the 2d, a storming-party was sent to ascend the steep and rugged
pathway which led up to the gate of the fortress, prepared to blow it
open with powder. Only one rebel was visible; and after a couple of
rifles had been fired at him, the gate was forced open and an entrance
obtained. Four men, the only occupants of the fortress, threw themselves
over a precipitous wall in a panic terror, and were dashed to
pieces—either not understanding or not believing the promise of quarter
offered to them.
[Illustration:
KOLAPORE.
]
Thus fell the fortress of Nargoond, which had been regarded as a
formidable stronghold ever since the days of Tippoo Saib. The rajah fled
early in the fight, with seven of his principal followers. Mr Souter,
police-superintendent at Belgaum, knowing the rajah’s complicity in the
murder of Mr Manson,[182] set out in pursuit of him. At sunset on the
2d, the rajah and his followers were discovered skulking in a belt of
jungle on the banks of the Malpurba, near Ramdroog; all but one were
captured, just as they were about to start for Punderpore. They were
sent to Belgaum, to be tried by a special commission. As to the rajah,
the last hour of this wretched man was marked by very unseemly
circumstances. On the 11th of June he was brought to trial, before
Captain Schneider, political agent at Belgaum. He was found guilty of
the crimes imputed to him, and was sentenced to be hanged on the next
day. Early in the morning of the 12th, two companies of H.M. 56th, and
two of the 20th Bombay native infantry, marched into Belgaum from
Dharwar to afford a guard during the execution. When the last hour was
approaching, the rajah begged hard to be blown from a gun, as a less
degrading death than hanging; but the authorities on the spot were not
empowered to accede to this application. The gallows was erected, and
the hanging effected; but the rope broke, and the wretched man fell to
the ground, where an undignified struggle took place between him and his
executioners. The extreme sentence of the law was at length carried out,
but not without evidences of mismanagement that added to the painfulness
of the whole scene.
In connection with the affairs of the Bombay presidency generally, a few
observations may be made on the state of the native army. One of the
questions that pressed upon the authorities during many months bore
relation to the treatment of the disarmed sepoy regiments—regiments
which, though disarmed for suspicious conduct, had not so far committed
themselves as to receive any more severe punishment. In the Punjaub Sir
John Lawrence was troubled with the safe keeping of many thousands of
these men; he dared not re-arm them, for their fidelity was more than
doubtful; and he would not disband and dismiss them, lest they should
swell the ranks of the rebels. Lord Elphinstone, governor of Bombay, was
affected by this difficulty only in a small degree, because the
mutineers in the Bombay army were few in number. A proceeding took
place, however, in the month now under notice, which will illustrate one
of the modes adopted of dealing with these dangerous incumbrances. It
will be remembered[183] that in the early part of August 1857 many parts
of the South Mahratta country were thrown into agitation by the
appearance of mutiny among certain of the Bombay native troops.
Kolapore, Poonah, Satara, Belgaum, Dharwar, Rutnagherry, and Sawunt
Waree were the chief places affected; a plot was discovered, in which
some of the troops were leagued with certain Mohammedan
fanatics—discovered in time to prevent the massacre of numerous
Europeans. The 21st and 27th regiments were two of those implicated; or
rather some of the companies in those regiments; while other companies,
not actually detected in the conspiracy, were simply disarmed. In this
disarmed state the men remained more than ten months, watched, but not
treated otherwise as culprits. At length a settlement of their treatment
was effected. Lord Elphinstone and his council decided as follows: That
the native commissioned officers, present when the disarming took place,
should be dismissed from the army, unless they could bring forward
special proofs of fidelity—that of the native non-commissioned officers,
the elder should be expelled, and the younger reduced to the ranks—that
the sepoys or privates should not be expelled unless special grounds
were assignable in their disfavor—that the 21st and 27th regiments
should be formally erased from the Bombay army list, to mark with some
stigma the conduct of those regiments—that two new regiments, to be
called the 30th and 31st infantry, should be formed, with a rank lower
in dignity than that of the other native infantry regiments of the
Bombay army—that all the privates of the (late) 21st and 27th, with
excepted instances, and such native officers as could clear themselves
from ill charges, should form the bulk of the two new regiments—finally,
that the vacancies in the list of officers (subadars, jemadars,
havildars, naiks) should be filled by chosen sepoys who had worthily
distinguished themselves in the campaigns of Rajpootana and Central
India. Lord Elphinstone, in his order in council relating to this
matter, dwelt upon the disgrace which had been brought upon the Bombay
army by the misdeeds of some of the men of the late 21st and 27th
regiments; adverted to the terrible deaths which most of them had met
with in the Kolapore region; exhorted the rest to beware how they
listened to the solicitations and machinations of traitors; and added:
‘The Governor in Council trusts that the 30th and 31st regiments will,
by their future conduct, shew their determination to render themselves
worthy of the leniency with which they have been treated, and to wipe
out the stain which the crimes of the 21st and 27th have left upon the
character of the Bombay army; so that the recollection of their past
misdeeds may be as effectually effaced from the minds of men, as their
former numbers will be erased from the roll of the army.’
Another instance, somewhat analogous to this, was presented in the
Punjaub. During the early days of the Revolt, the 36th and 61st Bengal
regiments at Jullundur, and the 3d at Phillour, were among those which
mutinied. Some of the sepoys in each, however, remained free from the
taint; they stood faithful under great temptation. At a later date even
these men were disarmed, from motives of policy; and they had none but
nominal duties intrusted to them. At length Sir John Lawrence, finding
that these men had passed through the ordeal honourably, proposed that
they should be re-armed, and noticed in a way consistent with their
merits. This was agreed to. About three hundred and fifty officers and
men, the faithful exceptions of three unfaithful regiments, were formed
into a special corps to be called the Wufadar Pultun or ‘faithful
regiment.’ This new corps was to be in four companies, organised on the
same footing as the Punjaub irregular infantry; and was to be stationed
at some place where the men would not have their feelings wounded and
irritated by the taunts of the Punjaubee soldiery—between whom and the
Hindustani sepoys the relations were anything but amicable. Any of the
selected number who preferred it, might receive an honourable discharge
from the army instead of entering any new corps. The experiment was
regarded as an important one; seeing that it might afford a clue to the
best mode of dealing with the numerous disarmed sepoys in the Punjaub.
The Bombay presidency was not so closely engaged in political and
military matters as to neglect the machinery of peaceful industry, the
stay and support of a nation. Another of those paths to commerce and
civilisation, railways, was opened for traffic in India in June. It was
a portion of a great trunk-line which, when completed, would connect
Bombay with Madras. The length opened was from Khandalla to Poonah; and
this, with another portion opened in 1853, completed a route from Bombay
to Poonah, excepting a long tunnel under the range of hills called the
Bhore Ghauts, which was not expected to be completed until 1860. On the
day of ceremonial opening, a journey was made from Bombay to Poonah and
back in eighteen hours, including four hours of portage or porterage at
the Bhore Ghauts. There were intermediate stations at Kirkee and
Tulligaum. The Company organised a scheme including conveyance across
the ghauts, by palkees and gharries, as part of their passenger
contract. An instructive index to the advancing state of society in
India was afforded by the fact, that one of the great Parsee merchants
of Bombay, Cursetjee Jamsetjee, was the leading personage in the
hospitalities connected with this railway-opening ceremonial.
A few remarks on the sister presidency, and this chapter may close.
If Madras, now as in former months, was wholly spared from fighting and
treason, it at least furnished an instance of the difficulty attending
any collision on religious matters with the natives. The Wesleyan
missionaries had a chapel and school in the district of Madras city
called Royapettah. Many native children attended the school, for the
sake of the secular instruction there given, without becoming formal
converts. One of them, a youth of fifteen or sixteen, mentioned to the
Rev. Mr Jenkins, the Wesleyan minister, his wish to become a Christian;
it was found on inquiry, however, that the parents were averse to this;
and Mr Jenkins left it to the youth whether he would join the mission or
return to his parents. He chose the former course. Hereupon a
disturbance commenced among the friends of the family; this was put down
by the police; but as the youth remained at the mission-house, the
religious prejudices of the natives became excited, and the disturbance
swelled into a riot. A mob collected in front of the mission-house,
entered the compound, threw stones and bricks at the house, forced open
the door, and broke all the furniture. Mr Jenkins and another missionary
named Stephenson, retreated from room to room, until they got into the
bathroom, and then managed to climb over a wall into another compound,
where they found protection. It was a mere local and temporary riot,
followed by the capture of some of the offenders and the escape of
others; but it was just such a spark as, in other regions of India,
might have set a whole province into a flame. The missionaries,
estimating the youth’s age at seventeen or eighteen years, claimed for
him a right of determining whether he would return to his parents (who
belonged to the Moodelly caste), or enter the mission; whereas some of
the zealots on the other side, declaring that his age was only twelve or
thirteen, advocated the rightful exercise of parental authority. The
magistrates, without entering into this question of disputed figures,
recommended to the missionaries the exercise of great caution, in any
matters likely to arouse the religious animosity of the natives; and
there can be little doubt that, in the prevailing state of native
feeling, such caution was eminently necessary.
Note.
_Queen’s Regiments in India in June_.—Sufficient has been said in
former chapters to convey some notion of the European element in the
Indian army in past years; the necessity for increasing the strength
of that element; the relation between the Queen’s troops and the
Company’s troops; the difficulty of sparing additional troops from
England; the mode in which that difficulty was overcome; and the
controversy concerning the best route for troop-ships. It seems
desirable to add here a few particulars concerning the actual number
of European troops in India at or about the time to which this
chapter relates, and the localities in which they were stationed.
The following list, correct as to the regiments, is liable to
modification in respect of localities. Many of the regiments were at
the time in detachments, serving in different places; in such cases,
the station of the main body only is named. Other regiments were at
the time on the march; these are referred to the station towards
which they were marching.
QUEEN’S TROOPS IN THE BENGAL ARMY.
It may here be remarked, that the distinctions between ‘fusiliers,’
‘foot,’ ‘light infantry,’ ‘Highlanders,’ and ‘rifles,’ are more
nominal than real; these are all infantry regiments of the line,
with a special number attached to each—except the particular corps
called the ‘Rifle Brigade.’
_Cavalry._
2d Dra. Gds., Lucknow.
6th Dra. Gds., Meerut.
7th Dra. Gds., Sealkote.
7th Lt. Dra., Lucknow.
9th Lancers, Umballa.
Mil. Trn., 2d bat., Benares.
_Horse-artillery._
E Troop, Allahabad.
F Troop, Lucknow.
_Foot-artillery._
2d Bat. 8th Com. Benares.
3d Bat. 5th Com. Calcutta.
5th Bat. 4th Com. Lucknow.
6th Bat. 1st Com. Moultan.
7th Bat. 6th Com. Rawul Pindee.
8th Bat. 3d Com. Lucknow.
9th Bat. 3d Com. Dumdum.
11th Bat. 6th Com. Lucknow.
12th Bat. 5th Com. Lucknow.
13th Bat. 5th Com. Bunnee.
13th Bat. 6th Com. Lucknow.
14th Bat. 3d Com. Agra.
14th Bat. 4th Com. Allahabad.
14th Bat. 7th Com. Futteghur.
_Engineers._
4th Company, Lucknow.
23d Company, Lucknow.
_Infantry._
5th Fusiliers, Calpee.
7th Fusiliers, Meean Meer.
8th foot, Agra.
10th foot, Dinapoor.
13th Lt. Infantry, Goruckpore.
19th foot, Barrackpore.
20th foot, Lucknow.
23d Fusiliers, Lucknow.
24th foot, Ferozpore.
27th foot, Umballa.
29th foot, Rangoon.
32d Lt. Infantry, Allahabad.
34th foot, Azimghur.
35th foot, Dinapoor.
37th foot, Ghazeepore.
38th foot, Lucknow.
42d Highlanders, Bareilly.
52d foot, Sealkote.
53d foot, Lucknow.
54th foot, Allahabad.
60th Rif., 1st bat. Shahjehanpoor.
60th Rif., 2d bat. Dinapoor.
61st Delhi.
70th Peshawur.
73d Sheergotty.
75th Meerut.
77th Calcutta.
79th Futteghur.
80th Cawnpore.
81st Nowsherah.
82d Shahjehanpoor.
84th Buxar.
87th Jullundur.
88th Cawnpore.
90th Lucknow.
93d Bareilly.
97th Lucknow.
98th Campbellpoor.
Rif. Brig., 2d bat. Lucknow.
Rif. Brig., 3d bat. Lucknow.
QUEEN’S TROOPS IN THE BOMBAY ARMY.
The preceding list, relating to the Bengal army, gives the names and
localities of regiments for the later weeks of June; the following,
having reference to the Bombay army, applies to the earlier part of
the same month; but the difference in this respect cannot be
considerable.
_Cavalry._
3d Drag. Guards, Kirkee.
8th Hussars, Nuseerabad.
14th Light Drag., Calpee.
17th Lancers, Kirkee.
_Horse-artillery._
D Troop, Poonah.
_Foot-artillery._
1st Bat. 8th Com., Baroda.
4th Bat. 3d Com. Rajpootana.
6th Bat. 1st Com. Sinde.
11th Bat. 2d Com., Rajpootana.
11th Bat. 7th Com. Bombay.
14th Bat. 5th Com. Cen. India.
14th Bat. 8th Com. Dharwar.
_Engineers._
11th Company, Rajpootana.
21st Company, Cen. India.
_Infantry._
4th foot, Gujerat.
18th Royal Irish, Poonah.
33d foot, Poonah.
51st foot, Kurachee.
56th foot, Belgaum.
57th foot, Aden.
64th foot, Allygurh.
71st Highlanders, Calpee.
72d Highlanders, Neemuch.
78th Highlanders, Alum Bagh.
83d foot, Rajpootana.
86th foot, Calpee.
89th foot, Ahmedabad.
92d Highlanders, Bombay.
95th foot, Rajpootana.
QUEEN’S TROOPS IN THE MADRAS ARMY.
The following list applies to the state of affairs about the third
week in June:
_Cavalry._
1st Drag. Guards, Bangalore.
12th Lancers, Kurnool.
_Horse-artillery._
II Troop, Mount.
_Foot-artillery._
3d Bat. 3d Com., Bangalore.
14th Bat. 6th Com., Bundelcund.
_Infantry._
1st foot, 1st Battalion, Secunderabad.
43d foot, Bundelcund.
44th foot, Madras.
60th Rifles, 3d Battalion, Bangalore.
66th foot, Cananore.
68th foot, Rangoon.
69th foot, Vizagapatam.
74th foot, Bellary.
Summing up these entries, it will be seen that out of the 99
regiments of the line in the British army (the 100th, a new Canadian
regiment, had not at that time completed its organisation), no less
than 59 were in India in June 1858; with a proportion of the other
branches of the military service. Nothing can more strikingly
illustrate the importance attached to the state of our Indian
possessions.
On the 1st of January 1857, there were about 26,000 royal troops and
12,000 Company’s European troops in India. During the ensuing
fifteen months, to April 1858, there were sent over 42,000 royal
troops and 5000 Company’s Europeans. These would have given a total
of 85,000 British troops in India; but it was estimated that war,
sickness, and heat had lessened this number to 50,000 available
effective men. At that time the arrangements of the English
authorities were such as to insure the speedy increase of this
European element to not less than 70,000 men; and during the summer,
still further advances were made in the same direction.
[Illustration]
-----
Footnote 180:
Chapter xxviii., p. 469.
Footnote 181:
‘MY DEAR BARROW—We are about to separate, perhaps for ever; but,
believe me, I shall ever retain you in affectionate remembrance, and
ever speak with that intense admiration which I feel for the glorious
volunteers whom you have commanded with such distinction. It would
afford me much pleasure to shake every one of them by the hand, and
tell them how warmly I feel towards them. But this is impossible; my
pressing duties will not allow me even to write a few farewell lines
to each of your officers: but I trust to your communicating to them
individually my affectionate adieu and sincerest wishes for their
prosperity. May God bless you and them.’ From one like Sir James, who
had had such special means of observing and appreciating the exertions
of the volunteer cavalry, this warm and genial letter must have been
doubly gratifying.
Footnote 182:
The governor of Bombay, in a public notification, used many
expressions of respect towards the memory of the political agent.
Adverting to the advice given to Mr Manson not to trust himself to the
mercies of the Rajah of Nargoond, Lord Elphinstone said: ‘But with
that noble devotion to duty, of which the recent history of India has
presented so many instances, Mr Manson determined to make a final
effort to save the chief, by his personal influence, from the ruin
impending over him.’ He added that the facts shewed ‘that a gallant
and accomplished gentleman, who had proved himself a most valuable
servant of the state, has been basely murdered.’ And he concluded by
announcing that ‘the body of Mr Manson has been recovered, and has
been buried at Kulladgee. The Right Hon. the Governor in Council will
regard it as a sacred duty to make a provision for the families of the
brave men who lost their lives in defending one whose untimely fate is
now so deeply deplored.’
Footnote 183:
See Chap. xvii., pp. 289, 290.
[Illustration:
Almorah, Hill-station in Kumaon.
]
CHAPTER XXXII.
GRADUAL PACIFICATION IN THE AUTUMN.
If the events of the three months—July, August, and September, 1858—be
estimated without due consideration, it might appear that the progress
made in India was hardly such as could fairly be called ‘pacification.’
When it is found how frequently the Jugdispore rebels are mentioned in
connection with the affairs of Behar; how numerous were the thalookdars
of Oude still in arms; how large an insurgent force the Begum held under
her command; how fruitless were all the attempts to capture the
miscreant Nena Sahib; how severely the friendly thalookdars and
zemindars of Oude were treated by those in the rebel ranks, as a means
of deterring others from joining the English; how active was Tanteea
Topee in escaping from Roberts and Napier, Smith and Michel, with his
treasure plundered from the Maharajah Scindia; how many petty chieftains
in the Bundelcund and Mahratta territories were endeavouring to raise
themselves in power, during a period of disorder, by violence and
plunder—there may be some justification for regarding the state of India
as far from peaceful during those three months. But notwithstanding
these appearances, the pacification of the empire was unquestionably in
progress. The Bengal sepoys, the real mutineers, were becoming lessened
in number every week, by the sword, the bullet, the gallows, and
privation. The insurgent bands, though many and apparently strong,
consisted more and more exclusively of rabble ruffians, whose chief
motive for action was plunder, and who seldom ventured to stand a
contest even with one-twentieth part their number of English troops. The
regiments and drafts sent out from England, both to the Queen’s and the
Company’s armies, were regularly continued, so as to render it possible
to supply a few British troops to all the points attacked or troubled.
There was a steady increase in the number of Jâts, Goorkhas, Bheels,
Scindians, Beloochees, &c., enlisted in British service, having little
or no sympathy with the high-caste Hindustani Oudians who had been the
authors of so much mischief. There was a re-establishment of civil
government in all the provinces, and (excepting Oude) in nearly all the
districts of each province; attended by a renewal of the revenue
arrangements, and by the maintenance of police bodies who aided in
putting down rebels and marauders. There was an almost total absence of
anything like nationality in the motions of the insurgents, or unity of
purpose in their proceedings; the decrepit Emperor of Delhi, and the
half-witted King of Oude, both of them prisoners, had almost gone out of
the thoughts of the natives—who, so far as they rebelled at all, looked
out for new leaders, new paymasters, new plunder. In short, the British
government had gained the upper hand in every province throughout India;
and preparations were everywhere made to maintain this hold so firmly,
that the discomfiture of the rebels became a matter almost of moral
certainty. Much remained to be done, and much time would be needed for
doing it; but the ‘beginning of the end’ was come, and men could speak
without impropriety of the gradual pacification of India.
The events of these three months will not require any lengthened
treatment; of new mutinies there was only one; and the military and
other operations will admit of rapid recital.
Calcutta saw nothing of Viscount Canning during the spring, summer, and
autumn. His lordship, as governor-general, appreciated the importance of
being near Sir Colin Campbell, to consult with him daily on various
matters affecting the military operations in the disturbed districts.
Both were at Allahabad throughout the period to which this chapter
relates. The supreme council, however, remained at the presidential
capital, giving effect to numerous legislative measures, and carrying on
the regular government of the presidency. Calcutta was now almost
entirely free from those panics which so frequently disturbed it during
the early months of the mutiny; rapine and bloodshed did not approach
the city, and the English residents gradually sobered down. Although the
violent and often absurd opposition to the governor-general had not
quite ceased, it had greatly lessened; the dignified firmness of Lord
Canning made a gradual conquest. Some of the newspapers, here as at
Bombay, invented proclamations and narratives, crimes and accusations,
with a disregard of truth which would hardly have been shewn by any
journals in the mother-country; and those effusions which were not
actually invented, too often received a colour ill calculated to convey
a correct idea of their nature. Many of the journalists never forgot or
forgave the restrictions which the governor-general deemed it prudent to
place on the press in the summer of 1857; the amount of anonymous
slander heaped on him was immense. One circumstance which enabled his
lordship to live down the calumnies, was the discovery, made by the
journalists in the following summer, that Lord Derby’s government was
not more disposed than that of Lord Palmerston to expel Viscount Canning
from office—a matter which will have to be noticed more fully in another
chapter. The more moderate journalists of the Anglo-Indian press, it
must in fairness be stated, did their part towards bringing about a more
healthy state of feeling.
That the authorities at Calcutta were not insensible to the value of
newspapers and journals, in a region so far away from England, was shewn
by an arrangement made in the month of August—which afforded at the same
time a quiet but significant proof of an improved attention towards the
well-being of soldiers. An order was issued that a supply of newspapers
and periodicals should be forwarded to the different military hospitals
in Calcutta at the public expense. Those for the officers’ hospital[184]
comprised some magazines of a higher class than were included in the
list for the men’s hospitals; but such were to be sent afterwards to the
men’s hospitals, when the officers had perused them.
In connection with military matters, in and near the presidential city,
it may be mentioned that the neighbourhood of Calcutta was the scene of
a settlement or colonisation very novel, and as unsatisfactory as it was
novel. It has been the custom to send over a small number of soldiers’
wives with every British regiment sent to our colonies or foreign
territories. During the course of twelve months so many regiments
arrived at Calcutta, that these soldiers’ wives accumulated to eighteen
hundred in number. They were consigned to the station at Dumdum, a few
miles north of Calcutta; and were attended by three or four surgeons and
one Protestant chaplain. The accommodation provided for them was
sufficient for the women themselves, but not for the children, who added
greatly to their number. Many of these women, being of that ignorant and
ill-regulated class from which soldiers too frequently choose their
wives, brought with them dirty habits and drinking tendencies; and
these, when the fierce heat of an Indian summer came, engendered
dysentery and diarrhœa, from which diseases a large number of women and
children died. Other irregularities of conduct appeared, among a mass of
women so strangely separated from all home-ties; and arrangements were
gradually made for breaking up this singular colony.
The details given in former chapters, especially in the ‘notes,’ will
have shewn how large was the number of regiments conveyed from the
United Kingdom and the colonies to India; and when it is remembered that
far more of these landed at Calcutta than at Madras, Bombay, or
Kurachee, it will easily be understood how military an aspect they gave
to the first-named city. Still, numerous as they were, they were never
equal to the demand. Without making any long stay at Calcutta, they
marched to the scenes of action in the northwest. In the scarcity of
regular troops, the Bengal government derived much valuable services
from naval and marine brigades—men occupying a middle position between
soldiers and sailors. Captain Sir William Peel’s naval brigade has been
often mentioned, in connection with gallant achievements in Oude; and
Captain Sotheby’s naval brigade also won a good name, in the provinces
eastward of Oude. But besides these, there were about a dozen different
bodies in Bengal, each consisting of a commandant, two under-officers, a
hundred men, and two light field-guns. Being well drilled, and
accustomed to active movements, these parties were held in readiness to
march off at short notice to any districts where a few resolute
disciplined men could overawe turbulent towns-people; and thus they held
the eastern districts in quietness without drawing on the regular
military strength of the presidency. The _Shannon_ naval brigade
acquired great fame; the heroic Peel had made himself a universal
favourite, and the brigade became a noted body, not only for their own
services, but for their connection with their late gallant commander.
When the brigade returned down the Ganges, the residents of Calcutta
gave them a public reception and a grand dinner. Sir James Outram was
present at the dinner, and, in a graceful and appropriate way, told of
his own experience of the services of the brigade at Lucknow in the
memorable days of the previous winter. ‘Almost the first white faces I
saw, when the lamented Havelock and I rushed out of our prison to greet
Sir Colin at the head of our deliverers, were the hearty, jolly, smiling
faces of some of you _Shannon_ men, who were pounding away with two big
guns at the palace; and I then, for the first time in my life, had the
opportunity of seeing and admiring the coolness of British sailors under
fire. There you were, working in the open plains, without cover, or
screen, or rampart of any kind, your guns within musket-range of the
enemy, as coolly as if you were practising at the Woolwich target. And
that it was a hot fire you were exposed to, was proved by three of the
small staff that accompanied us (Napier, young Havelock, and Sitwell)
being knocked over by musket-balls in passing to the rear of those guns,
consequently further from the enemy than yourselves.’ Such a speech from
such a man was about the most acceptable compliment that the brigade
could receive, and was well calculated to produce a healthy emulation in
other quarters.
The authorities at all the stations were on the watch for any symptoms
which, though trivial in themselves, might indicate the state of feeling
among the soldiery or the natives generally. Thus, on the 10th of July,
at Barrackpore, a chuprassee happening to go down to a tank near the
lines, saw a bayonet half in and half out of the water. A search was
thereupon ordered; when about a hundred weapons—muskets, sabres, and
bayonets—with balls and other ammunition—were discovered at the bottom
of the tank. These warlike materials were rendered almost valueless by
the action of the water; but their presence in the tank was not the less
a mystery needing to be investigated. The authorities, in this as in
many similar cases, thought it prudent not to divulge the results of
their investigation.
The great jails of India were a source of much trouble and anxiety
during the mutiny. All the large towns contained such places of
incarceration, which were usually full of very desperate characters; and
these men were rejoiced at any opportunity of revenging themselves on
the authorities. Such opportunities were often afforded; for, as we have
many times had occasion to narrate, the mutineers frequently broke open
the jails as a means of strengthening their power by the aid of hundreds
or thousands of budmashes ready for any atrocities. So late as the 31st
of July, at Mymensing, in the eastern part of Bengal, the prisoners in
the jail, six hundred in number, having overpowered the guard, escaped,
seized many tulwars and muskets, and marched off towards Jumalpore. The
Europeans at this place made hurried preparations for defence, and sent
out such town-guards and police as they could muster, to attack the
escaped prisoners outside the station. About half of the number were
killed or recaptured, and the rest escaped to work mischief elsewhere.
It is believed, however, that in this particular case, the prisoners had
no immediate connection with rebels or mutinous sepoys; certain prison
arrangements concerning food excited their anger, and under the
influence of this anger they broke forth.
So far as concerns actual mutiny, the whole province of Bengal was
nearly exempt from that infliction during the period now under
consideration; regular government was maintained, and very few rebels
troubled the course of peaceful industry.
Behar, however, was not so fortunate. Situated between Bengal and Oude,
it was nearer to the scenes of anarchy, and shared in them more fully.
Sir Edward Lugard, as we have seen, was employed there during the spring
months; but having brought the Jugdispore rebels, as he believed, to the
condition of mere bandits and marauders, he did not think it well to
keep his force in active service during the rainy season, when they
would probably suffer more from inclement weather than from the enemy.
He resigned command, on account of his shattered health, and his
Azimghur field-force was broken up. The 10th foot, and the Madras
artillery, went to Dinapoor; the 84th foot and the military train, under
Brigadier Douglas, departed for Benares; the royal artillery were
summoned to Allahabad; the Sikh cavalry and the Madras rifles went to
Sasseram; and the Madras cavalry to Ghazeepore. Captain Rattray, with
his Sikhs, was left at Jugdispore, whence he made frequent excursions to
dislodge small parties of rebels.
A series of minor occurrences took place in this part of Behar, during
July, sufficient to require the notice of a few active officers at the
head of small bodies of reliable troops, but tending on the other hand
to shew that the military power of the rebels was nearly broken down—to
be followed by the predatory excursions of ruffian bands whose chief or
only motive was plunder. On the 8th a body of rebels entered Arrah,
fired some shot, and burnt Mr Victor’s bungalow; the troops at that
station being too few to effectually dislodge them, a reinforcement was
sent from Patna, which drove them away. Brigadier Douglas was placed in
command of the whole of this disturbed portion of Behar, from Dinapoor
to Ghazeepore, including the Arrah and Jugdispore districts; and he so
marshalled and organised the troops placed at his disposal as to enable
him to bring small bodies to act promptly upon any disturbed spots. He
established strong posts at moderate distances in all directions. The
rebels in this quarter having few or no guns left, Douglas felt that
their virtual extinction, though slow, would be certain. He was
constantly on the alert; insomuch that the miscreants could never remain
long to work mischief in one place. Meghur Singh, Joodhur Singh, and
many other ‘Singhs,’ headed small bands at this time. On the 17th,
Captain Rattray had a smart encounter with some of these people at
Dehree, or rather, it was a capture, with scarcely any encounter at all.
His telegram to Allahabad described it very pithily: ‘Sangram Singh
having committed some murders in the neighbourhood of Rotas, and the
road being completely closed by him, I sent out a party of eight picked
men from my regiment, with orders to kill or bring in Sangram Singh.
This party succeeded most signally. They disguised themselves as
mutinous sepoys, brought in Sangram Singh last night, and killed his
brother (the man who committed the late murders by Sangram Singh’s
orders), his sons, nephew, and grandsons, amounting in all to nine
persons—bringing in their heads. At this capture, all the people of the
south [of the district?] are much rejoiced. The hills for the present
are clear from rebels. I shall try Sangram Singh to-morrow.’ The
trunk-road from Calcutta to the upper provinces, about Sasseram,
Jehanabad, Karumnassa, and other places, was frequently blocked by small
parties of rebels or marauders; and then it became necessary to send out
detachments to disperse them. As it was of immense importance to
maintain this road open for traffic, military and commercial, the
authorities, at Patna, Benares, and elsewhere, were on the alert to hunt
down any predatory bands that might make their appearance.
Although Douglas commanded the district in which Jugdispore is situated,
he did not hold Jugdispore itself. That place had changed hands more
than once, since the day when Koer Singh headed the Dinapoor mutineers;
and it was at the beginning of August held by Ummer Singh, with the
chief body of the Behar rebels. Brigadier Douglas gradually organised
arrangements for another attack on this place. His object was, if
possible, so to surround Ummer Singh that he should only have one outlet
of escape, towards Benares and Mirzapore, where there were sufficient
English troops to bring him to bay. The rebels, however, made so many
separate attacks at various places in the Shahabad district, and moved
about with such surprising celerity, that Douglas was forced to postpone
his main attack for a time, seeing that Jugdispore could not be invested
unless he had most of his troops near that spot. All through the month
of August we hear of partial engagements between small parties of rebels
and much smaller parties of the English—ending, in almost every case, in
the flight of the former, but not the less harassing to the latter. At
one time we read of an appearance of these ubiquitous insurgents at
Rasserah; at another at Arrah; at others at Belowtee, Nowadda,
Jugragunje, Masseegunje, Roopsauguty, Doomraon, Burrarpore, Chowpore,
Pah, Nurreehurgunje, Kuseea, Nissreegunje, and other towns and
villages—mostly south of the Ganges and west of the Sone.
It is unnecessary to trace the operations in this province during
September. There was no rebel army, properly so called; but there were
small bands in various directions—plundering villages, burning
indigo-works, molesting opium-grounds, murdering unprotected persons
known or supposed to be friendly to the British, and committing
atrocities from motives either of personal vengeance or of plunder. Of
patriotism there was nothing; for the peaceful villages suffered as much
from these ruffians as the servants of the state. The state of matters
was well described by an eye-witness, who said that Shahabad (the
district which contains Arrah and Jugdispore) ‘is one of the richest
districts in Behar, and is pillaged from end to end; it is what an Irish
county would be with the Rockites masters of the opportunity.’ It was a
riot rather than a rebellion; a series of disorders produced by
ruffians, rather than a manifestation of patriotism or national
independence. To restore tranquillity, required more troops than
Brigadier Douglas could command at that time; but everything foretold a
gradual suppression of this state of disorder, when October brought him
more troops and cooler weather.
We now pass on to the turbulent province of Oude—that region which, from
the very beginning of the mutiny, was the most difficult to deal with.
It will be remembered, from the details given in the former chapters,
that Lucknow was entirely reconquered by the British; that the line of
communication between that city and Cawnpore was safely in their hands;
that after Sir Colin Campbell, Sir James Outram, and other generals had
taken their departure to other provinces, Sir Hope Grant remained in
military command of Oude; and that Mr Montgomery, who had been
Lawrence’s coadjutor in the Punjaub, undertook, as chief-commissioner of
Oude, the difficult task of re-establishing civil government in that
distracted country.
It may be well here to take some notice of an important state document
relating to Oude and its government, its thalookdars and its zemindars.
During the spring and summer,[185] the two Houses of Parliament were
hotly engaged in a contest concerning Viscount Canning and the Earl of
Ellenborough, which branched off into a contest between Whigs and
Conservatives, marked by great bitterness on both sides. The immediate
cause was a proclamation intended to have been issued (but never
actually issued) by Viscount Canning in Oude, announcing the forfeiture
of all estates belonging to thalookdars and zemindars who had been
guilty of complicity with the rebels. The Earl of Ellenborough, during
his brief tenure of office as president of the Board of Control, wrote
the celebrated ‘secret dispatch’ (dated April 19th),[186] in which he
condemned the proposed proclamation, and haughtily reproved the
governor-general himself. It was a dispatch, of which the following
words were disapproved even by the earl’s own party: ‘We must admit
that, under these circumstances, the hostilities which have been carried
on in Oude have rather the character of legitimate war than that of
rebellion, and that the people of Oude should rather be regarded with
indulgent consideration, than made the objects of a penalty exceeding in
extent and in severity almost any which has been recorded in history as
inflicted upon a subdued nation. Other conquerors, when they have
succeeded in overcoming resistance, have excepted a few persons as still
deserving of punishment, but have, with a generous policy, extended
their clemency to the great body of the people. You have acted upon a
different principle. You have reserved a few as deserving of special
favour, and you have struck with what they will feel as the severest of
punishment the mass of the inhabitants of the country. We cannot but
think that the precedents from which you have departed will appear to
have been conceived in a spirit of wisdom superior to that which appears
in the precedent you have made.’
It was not until the month of October that the English public were made
acquainted with Viscount Canning’s reply to this dispatch. During the
interval of five or six months, speculation was active as to the mode in
which he would view it, and the course he would adopt in relation to it.
His reply was dated ‘Allahabad, June 17th,’ and, when at length publicly
known, attracted general attention for its dignified tone. Even those
who continued to believe that the much-canvassed proclamation would not
have been a just one to issue, admitted (in most instances) the cogency
of the governor-general’s arguments against the Ellenborough
dispatch—especially in relation to the unfairness of making public a
professedly ‘secret’ dispatch. The reply was not addressed to the earl,
whose name was not mentioned in it throughout; its address was to ‘the
Secret Committee of the Court of Directors,’ in accordance with official
rule; but the earl was responsible, and alone responsible, for the
dispatch and the severe language it contained. The personal part of
Viscount Canning’s reply, the calm but indignant allusion to the
ungenerous treatment he had received, was comprised in the first six
clauses, which we give in a foot-note.[187] He proceeded to notice the
strange way in which the Ellenborough dispatch almost justified the
Oudians, as if they were fighting for a righteous cause—quite legitimate
in a member of the legislature, proposing a reconsideration of the
annexation of Oude; but quite unjustifiable in a minister serving Queen
Victoria, who was at that moment, rightly or wrongly, the real Queen of
Oude. Viscount Canning declined to discuss the policy which, two years
earlier, had dictated the annexation; it was not his performance, nor
was he empowered to undo it when once done. But he felt it incumbent on
him to point out the disastrous effects which might follow, if the
Oudians were encouraged by such reasonings as those contained in the
Ellenborough dispatch. Speaking of the Begum, the Moulvie, the Nazim,
and other rebel leaders in Oude, he stated that there was scarcely any
unity of plan or sympathy of purpose among them; ‘but,’ he added, ‘I
cannot think this want of unity will long continue. If it shall once
become manifest that the British government hesitates to declare its
right to possess Oude, and that it regards itself as a wrongful intruder
into the place of the dynasty which the Begum claims to represent, I
believe that this would draw to the side of the Begum many who have
hitherto shewn no sympathy with the late ruling family, and that it is
just what is wanting to give a national character to her cause. An
uncompromising assertion of our authority in Oude is perfectly
compatible with a merciful exercise of it; and I respectfully submit
that if the government of India is not supported in making this
assertion, and in declaring that the recent acts of the people of Oude
are acts of rebellion, and that they may in strict right be treated as
such, a powerful temptation will be offered to them to maintain their
present struggle or to renew it.’
The governor-general’s defence of the proclamation itself we need not
notice at any length; the proclamation was never issued in its original
form—the subject being left generally to the discretion of Mr
Montgomery. The tenor of his reply may be thus briefly indicated—That he
went to Allahabad to reside, chiefly that he might be able personally to
investigate the state of Oude; that he soon decided to make a difference
between mutinied sepoys and Oudian rebels; that the latter should not be
put to death for appearing in arms against the authorities, unless they
had committed actual murder; that the general punishment for Oudian
rebellion should be confiscation of estates, a punishment frequently
enforced against rebels in past years, both by the British and by the
native governments; that it is a punishment which in no way affects the
honour of the most sensitive Rajpoot or Brahmin; that it admits of every
gradation, according to the severity or lightness of the offence; that
it would enable the government to reward friendly thalookdars and
zemindars with estates taken from those who had rebelled; that most of
the thalookdars had acquired their estates by spoliation of the village
communities, at a time when they (the thalookdars) were acting under the
native government as ‘nazims’ (governors) or ‘chuckladars’ (collectors
of government rents); that, as a matter of abstract right, it would be
just to give these estates back again to the village communities; but
that, as there would be insuperable difficulties to this course, it
would be better to take the forfeited estates of rebellious thalookdars
as government property, out of which faithful villages and individuals
might be rewarded.
Another reply, written by Viscount Canning on the 7th of July, was to
the dispatch of the Court of Directors dated the 18th of May. In that
dispatch the directors, while expressing full confidence in the
governor-general, courteously requested him to furnish an explanation of
the circumstances and motives which led him to frame the proclamation.
This explanation he most readily gave, in terms equivalent to those
above indicated. He expressed, too, his thankfulness for the tone in
which the directors had written to him. ‘Such an expression of the
sentiments of your honourable court would be to me a source of
gratification and just pride under any circumstances; but the generous
and timely promptitude with which you have been pleased to issue it, and
the fact that it contains approval of the past, as well as trust for the
future, has greatly enhanced its value. Your honourable court have
rightly judged, that in the midst of difficulties no support is so
cheering to a public servant, or so strengthening, as that which is
derived from a declared approval of the spirit by which his past acts
have been guided.’
It may be here remarked that some of the European inhabitants of
Calcutta, who had from the first placed themselves in antagonism with
Viscount Canning, prepared an address to the Earl of Ellenborough,
thanking him for the ‘secret’ dispatch, denouncing the principles and
the policy acted on by the governor-general, lamenting the earl’s
retirement after so brief a tenure of office, denouncing the Whigs, and
expressing a hope that the earl, whether in or out of office, would long
live to ‘uphold the honour and interests of British India.’
We now proceed to a brief narrative of the course of events in Oude
during July, August, and September.
The province, in the first of these three months, was in a remarkable
condition. Mr Montgomery, as chief-commissioner, intrusted with large
powers, gradually felt his way towards a re-establishment of British
influence. Most of the dependants and adherents of the deposed royal
family belonged to Lucknow; and it was hence in that city that they
required most carefully to be watched. In the provinces, the late king’s
power and the present British power were regarded with about equal
indifference or dislike. A sort of feudalism prevailed, inimical to the
recognition of any central authority, except in merely nominal matters.
There were rebel forces under different leaders at different spots; but
it is doubtful whether any of them were fighting for the deposed king;
each leader had an eye to the assumption of power by or for himself.
Even the Begum, one of the king’s wives, was influenced by motives very
far removed from affection to her lord. Great as Montgomery’s
difficulties were, therefore, they were less than would have been
occasioned by a concentration of action, a unity of purpose, among the
malcontents. He reorganised civil tribunals and offices in such
districts as were within his power, and waited for favourable
opportunities to do the like in other districts.
General Sir Hope Grant was Mr Montgomery’s coadjutor in these labours,
bringing military power to bear where civil power was insufficient. In
the early part of the month he remained at Lucknow, keeping together a
small but efficient army, and watching the course of events around him.
Later in the month, however, he deemed it necessary to take the field,
and endeavour to chastise a large body of rebels who were setting up the
Begum in authority at Fyzabad. On the 21st he started off in that
direction, taking with him a force comprising the 1st Madras Europeans,
the 2d battalion of the Rifle Brigade, the 1st Punjaub infantry, the 7th
Hussars, Hodson’s Horse, twelve light guns, and a heavy train. It was
considered probable that, on his way, Grant would relieve Maun Singh,
the powerful thalookdar so often mentioned, who was besieged in his fort
at Shahgunje by many thousand rebels. This cunning time-server had drawn
suspicion upon his acts and motives on many former occasions; but as it
was more desirable to have him as a friend than an enemy, and as he had
unquestionably earned the enmity of the rebels by his refusal to act
openly against the British, it was considered prudent to pay some
attention to his present applications for aid. Grant and Montgomery, the
one as general and the other as commissioner, held possession of the
road from Cawnpore to Lucknow, and the road from Lucknow to Nawabgunge;
it was hoped that Grant’s expedition would obtain command likewise of
the road from Nawabgunge to Fyzabad. These are the three components of
one main road which nearly intersects Oude from west to east; the
possession of it would render practicable the gradual crushing of the
rebel bands in different forts north and south of the road. The rebel
leaders, about the middle of the month, were believed to comprise the
Begum of Oude, her paramour Mummoo Khan, Beni Madhoo, Baboo Rambuksh,
Bihonath Singh, Chandabuksh, Gholab Singh, Nurput Singh, the Shahzada
Feroze Shah, Bhopal Singh, and others of less note; they had under their
command sixty or seventy thousand armed men of various grades, and forty
or fifty guns. More than half of the whole number were supposed to be
with the Begum and Mummoo Khan, at Chowka-Ghât, beyond the river Gogra;
and to these Sir Hope Grant directed his chief attention. Where Nena
Sahib was hiding, the British authorities could never definitely learn;
although it was known that he was near the northern or Nepaul frontier
of Oude. It was believed that he, as well as the Begum, was becoming
straitened for want of funds—appliances without which they could never
hope to keep their rebel forces together.
The general, with his force from Lucknow, experienced no obstruction in
his march towards Fyzabad. He arrived at a point within fourteen miles
of that city by the 28th of July, having passed on his way through
Nawabgunge—leaving the Rajah of Kupoorthulla to keep open his
communications. His advance alarmed the rebel army which was at that
time engaged in besieging Maun Singh in Shahgunje (twelve miles south of
Fyzabad); it broke up into three divisions—one of which fled towards
Gonda; a second marched for Sultanpore on the Goomtee; while a third
made for Tanda on the Gogra. This precipitate flight shewed in a
striking way the dread felt by the insurgents of an encounter with Sir
Hope Grant; for their numbers are supposed to have been at least ten
times as great as his. On the 29th, Grant entered Fyzabad, and there
heard that a large body of rebels were escaping across the Gogra a mile
or two ahead; he pushed on with cavalry and horse-artillery, but was
only in time to send a few round-shot into their rear. On the following
day, Maun Singh, now delivered from beleaguerment, had an interview with
him. On the 2d of August, two of the three divisions of the rebel army
contrived to join in the vicinity of Sultanpore, where they again formed
a compact army of eighteen thousand men, with eleven guns.
Notwithstanding the escape of the rebels, Grant’s undisputed occupation
of Fyzabad made a great impression in the whole province. This place was
a centre of Mohammedan influence; while near it was the very ancient
though decayed city of Ayodha or Oude, one of the most sacred of Hindoo
cities. Religious quarrels had often broken out between the two
communities; and now the British shewed themselves masters alike over
the Mohammedan and the Hindoo cities.
It was a great advantage at this time that Hurdeo Buksh, a powerful
zemindar of Oude, was enabled to give practical efficiency to the
friendly feeling with which he had regarded the English throughout the
mutiny. At his estate of Dhurrenpore, not far from Nawabgunge, he
organised a small force of retainers, which, with two guns, he employed
in fighting against some of the neighbouring thalookdars and zemindars
who were hostile to British interests. Such instances were few in
number, but they were gradually increasing; and to such agency the
ultimate pacification of Oude would necessarily be in considerable part
due.
While Grant was encamped at Fyzabad, he made arrangements for routing
some of the rebel bodies stationed in places to the east and southeast,
whither they had fled on his approach. He made up a column—comprising
the 1st Madras Europeans, the 5th Punjaub Rifles, a detachment of Madras
Sappers, a detachment of the 7th Hussars, 300 of Hodson’s Horse, and a
troop of horse-artillery. With this force, Brigadier Horsford was
directed to proceed to Sultanpore, whither an important section of the
rebels had retreated. Heavy rains prevented the departure of the
brigadier so soon as had been intended; but he set forth on the 9th of
August, and was joined on the way by a small force from Lucknow,
comprising Brasyer’s Sikhs and two horse-artillery guns. On the 13th,
Horsford took possession of Sultanpore, after a tough opposition from
sixteen or eighteen thousand rebels; he not only drove the enemy across
the river Goomtee, but shelled them out of the cantonments on the
opposite banks. The most determined of the combatants among the rebels
were believed to be those regiments of mutinied sepoys which had been
known as the Nuseerabad brigade; they had established three posts to
guard the ghâts or ferries across the river, and held these ghâts for a
time with such obstinacy as to occasion them a severe loss.
Sultanpore occupied an important position in relation to the rest of
Oude; being on the same river (the Goomtee) as Lucknow, and on the high
road from Allahabad to Fyzabad. It was evident that this place, from the
relative positions of the opposing forces, could not long remain at
peace. The rebels endeavoured to regain possession of it after their
defeat; while Sir Hope Grant resolved to prevent them. They returned to
the Goomtee, and occupied many villages nearly opposite the city. On the
24th of August, Grant made preparations for crossing the river and
attacking them. This plan he put in execution on the following day; when
twelve hundred foot and two guns effected the passage, and seized three
villages immediately in front. The rebels, however, maintained a
position from which they could send over shot into the British camp;
this lasted until the 29th, when they were driven from their position,
and compelled to retire towards Sassenpore, where they reassembled about
seven thousand of their number, with eight guns.
The first days of September found this body of rebels separating and
recombining, lessening and augmenting, in a manner that renders it
difficult to trace the actual movements. The real mutinous sepoys, the
‘Pandies’ of the once mighty Bengal army, were now few among them; and
the fluctuating numbers were made up chiefly of the adherents of the
rebellious thalookdars and zemindars of Oude—the vassals of those feudal
barons—together with felons and scoundrels of various kinds. On one day
they appeared likely to retire to Amethee, the stronghold of a rebel
named Lall Madhoo Singh; on another, they shewed symptoms of marching to
Mozuffernugger, a place about ten miles from Sultanpore; while on a
third, some of them made their appearance at a town about twenty miles
from Sultanpore on the Lucknow road.
At this time (September) the position of the British in Oude, so far as
concerned the possession of actual governing power, was very singular.
They held a belt of country right across the centre of the province from
east to west; while the districts north and south of that belt were
either in the possession of rebels, or were greatly troubled by them.
The position was thus clearly described by the Lucknow correspondent of
the _Bombay Gazette_: ‘The districts in our possession lie in a large
ellipse, of which Lucknow and Durriabad are foci, the ends of one
diameter being Cawnpore and Fyzabad. These cities are situated almost
due east and west. Our civil jurisdiction extends, on the average,
twenty-five miles all round Lucknow, and not much less round Durriabad.
Our line of communication is uninterrupted from Cawnpore to Fyzabad,
which latter borders on the Goruckpore district.’ North of this belt or
ellipse were various bodies of rebels under the Begum, Mummoo Khan,
Feroze Shah, Hurdut Singh, and other leaders; while south of the belt
were other bodies under Beni Madhoo, Hunmunt Singh, the Rajah of Gonda,
&c. Irrespective of these, were Nena Sahib and some of his relations
who, though not to be encountered, were known to be still in the
northeast of Oude, near the Nepaul frontier. Sir Hope Grant had
immediate control over both banks of the Goomtee, near Sultanpore, and
was preparing for a decisive advance against the rebels as soon as he
was joined by Brigadier Berkeley, who was sent from Allahabad on an
expedition presently to be noticed.
The portion of Oude nearest to Rohilcund, where the energetic Moulvie
had lately lost his life, was kept for a long time in a state of anarchy
by a combination of rebel chieftains, who declared hostility against the
Rajah of Powayne for having betrayed and killed the Moulvie. They at
first quarrelled a good deal concerning the possession of the effects of
the deceased leader; but the Begum put in a claim, which seems to have
been acceded to. Although the authorities at Lucknow could not at this
time spare a force to rout out the insurgents on this side of Oude, the
service was rendered from Rohilcund, as will be shewn shortly.
In a district of Oude between Lucknow and the Rohilcund frontier, a
gallant affair was achieved by Mr Cavanagh, who had gained so much
renown by carrying the message from Sir James Outram at Lucknow to Sir
Colin Campbell’s camp. Being appointed chief civil officer of the
Muhiabad district, he arranged with Captain Dawson and Lieutenant French
to defend the district from rebels as well as they could, by the aid of
a few native police and sowars. On the 30th of July a body of 1500
insurgents, with one gun, made a sudden attack on a small out-station
defended only by about 70 men. The place was gallantly held until
Cavanagh and French reached it. One bold charge sent the rebels fleeing
in all directions; and the district was soon pacified. Mr Cavanagh had
the tact to win over several small zemindars to the British cause, by
threatening to punish them if insubordinate, and by undertaking to aid
them if they were attacked by rebel bands; they combined to maintain
four hundred matchlockmen at their own expense in the British cause.
Many of the petty rajahs and zemindars had themselves been more than
suspected; but the civil authorities were empowered to win them over, by
an indulgent forgetfulness of their past conduct.
[Illustration:
Interior of Hindoo Rajah’s House.
]
On another side of Oude, near Allahabad and the apex of the Doab, there
were many bold and reckless thalookdars, who held out threats to all of
their class who dared to profess friendship to the English. A loyal
thalookdar, Baboo Rampursand Singh, was attacked by a number of these
confederated chieftains with their retainers at Soraon; they took him
and his family prisoners, destroyed his house, and sacked the village.
As this course of proceeding would have deterred friendly thalookdars
from a persistence in their loyalty, and still more certainly deterred
waverers from making a choice adverse to the rebel cause, means were
taken to check it. Brigadier Berkeley was placed in command of a ‘Soraon
Field-force,’ hastily collected, comprising 200 of H.M. 32d foot, the
7th Punjaub infantry, about 150 other infantry, two troops of Lahore
light horse, a detachment of Madras cavalry, detachments of horse and
foot artillery, and nine guns and mortars. The brigadier set out for
Allahabad, where the force had been collected, crossed the Ganges,
marched to the Oude frontier, and came in sight of a body of rebels on
the 14th of July, at the fort and village of Dehaign—one of the small
forts in which Oude abounded. The rebels retired into the fort on his
approach, allowing his skirmishers to take easy possession of the
village. He encircled the fort with cavalry, and placed horse-artillery
to watch any outlets of escape. A firing by heavy guns was not
satisfactory to him, owing to the fort being completely hidden by trees
and thick scrubby jungle; and he therefore resolved on storming the
place by his infantry. The assault was speedily and thoroughly
successful. About 250 of the rebels were killed in the fort and ditch;
and about as many more were chased through the jungle and cut down by
the cavalry and horse-artillery. The place was not properly a fort; it
was a large area of jungle surrounded by a dilapidated earthen wall and
ditch, and fenced with a thorny abattis, having a brick house in the
centre. The rebels being driven out, Brigadier Berkeley caused the
jungle to be cut, the walls to be levelled, and the house destroyed.
After resting on the 15th, Berkeley proceeded on the 16th to the fort of
Tiroul, seven miles north of Soraon. He found this fort in the middle of
an impenetrable thorny jungle, through which a few paths were cut in
directions known only to the natives; it was surrounded by a very thick
thorny abattis; and it had walls, bastions, ditches, escarps, like a
miniature fortress, with a stronghold in the centre to which the
garrison could retire when closely pressed. There were only three guns
on the bastions, but the walls were loopholed for musketry. So thick was
the belt of trees and jungle around, that the brigadier could scarcely
obtain a sight of the fort; he therefore deemed it prudent to employ his
mortars and a 24-pounder howitzer before sending in his infantry to
assault. This succeeded; the enemy evacuated the place during the night,
leaving behind them their three guns and gun-ammunition. The infantry
were on the alert to assist, but the enemy left them nothing to do. Fort
Tiroul was then destroyed, as fort Soraon had been. The former was
rather a superior example of an Oudian fort; although the walls and
bastions were only of earth, they were of such considerable thickness,
and were aided so greatly by loopholed parapets, ditches, breastworks,
rifle-pits, thorny abattis, zigzag intrenchments, and thick jungle—that
the enemy might have made a tough resistance to an infantry attack, if
they had not been frightened out by shells and balls. By a somewhat
similar train of operations, Brigadier Berkeley captured and destroyed a
fort at Bhyspoor; and having thus finished the work intrusted to him, he
returned with his temporary ‘Soraon Field-force’ to Allahabad. After a
brief interval, he was again sent forth, to demolish other Oudian forts
at places accessible from Allahabad, of which one was at Pertabghur; and
then to advance to Sultanpore, to aid Sir Hope Grant. The two generals
would then command a semicircle of country, within which most of the
rebels in the eastern half of Oude would be enclosed; and an advance of
other columns from Lucknow would completely hem them in. There were many
symptoms, at the end of the month, that numerous zemindars and
thalookdars were only waiting for a decent pretext, a decisive success
of the British, to give in their adhesion.
The banks of the Ganges nearest to the province of Oude, even so low
down as Allahabad, where the governor-general and the commander-in-chief
were residing, required close watching; they were infested by bands of
rebels, some of whom devastated the villages, while others sought to
cross the Ganges into the Doab; and carry mischief into new districts.
Towards the close of July—to cite one among many instances—it became
known that the rebels had collected many boats on the Oude side of the
river, ready to cross over into the Doab if the fortune of war should
render this desirable. The authorities at once sent up the _Jumna_
steamer, with a party of 130 Sikhs and two guns. At Manickpore and
Kunkur, some distance up the river, they found more than twenty boats,
which they succeeded in destroying; but the two forts were well armed
with guns and rebels, and could not be safely attacked at that
time—another and stronger expeditionary force was required to effect
this. In August, and again in September, small forces were sent up from
Allahabad by river, which had the desired effect of checking these
insurgents.
Viscount Canning and Sir Colin Campbell both remained at Allahabad
throughout the period to which this chapter relates—where, indeed, they
had long been located. It was convenient for each in his special
capacity, owing to its central situation. Sir Colin needed to be
informed daily of the proceedings of all the brigades, columns, forces,
and detachments which were out on active service. Gladly would he have
kept them all under cover until the rainy season had passed; but the
exigencies of the service prevented this: some troops were necessarily
in the field—in Behar, in Oude, in Rohilcund, in Bundelcund, in the
Mahratta states, in Rajpootana; and these, whether their number were few
or many, were all working to one common end. At no other city could Sir
Colin receive news from all those regions more promptly than at
Allahabad. Again, Viscount Canning found it necessary to be in intimate
communication with the commander-in-chief, in relation to all projects
and arrangements involving military operations, on which the ultimate
pacification of India so much depended. It was desirable, also, that he
should be near Oude, the affairs of which were far more delicate than
those of any other Indian province. Many events were likely to arise,
concerning which the electric telegraph, though instantaneous, might be
too curt and enigmatical, and which would be much better settled by a
personal conference with the chief to whom the government of the
Anglo-Indian empire was consigned.
Orders and dispatches, military and political, were issued in great
number from Allahabad, which was the substitute for Calcutta at that
time. Much progress had been made towards the construction of a new
English town, with houses, hotels, offices, and shops; and much also in
the building of new barracks, for the English troops which must
necessarily continue to be stationed at this important place. The
governor-general and the commander-in-chief were each surrounded with
his staff of officials, for the transaction of business; and both worked
untiringly for the public benefit.
From time to time Viscount Canning gave effect to several
recommendations made by the generals and brigadiers for an
acknowledgment of the fidelity and bravery of native soldiers. At a
period when the treachery of the ‘Pandies’ of the Bengal army had been
productive of such bitter fruit, it was doubly desirable to praise and
reward such native troops as bore up well against the temptations to
which they were exposed. On one day he issued orders for the promotion
of certain officers and men of the Hyderabad Contingent, for conspicuous
gallantry in the action at Banda; and in orders of subsequent dates,
other well-deserving native troops were singled out for reward.
Ressaldars were promoted to be ressaldar-majors, duffadars to be
ressaldars or jemadars, bargheers and silladars to be duffadars, naiks
to be havildars, and so on—these being some of the many designations of
native military officers in India. One of the higher grade of native
officers in the Hyderabad Contingent, Ressaldar-major Meer Dilawar
Hossein, was made a member of the First Class of ‘the Order of British
India,’ with the title of ‘Sirdar Bahadoor.’ Sometimes towns themselves
were complimented, as a mode of gratifying the inhabitants, when good
service had been rendered. Thus Sasseram became the subject of the
following order: ‘As a special mark of the consideration of government
for the loyal services rendered by Shah Koobeeroodeen Ahmed of Sasseram,
and his fellow towns-people, in repelling the mutineers, the Right Hon.
the Governor-general is pleased to confer upon Sasseram the name of
Nasirool Hook-Kusbah, “Sasseram the aider or supporter of the rulers.”’
Sir Colin Campbell’s[188] daily duties of course bore relation chiefly
to military matters. On one occasion, while at Allahabad, he reviewed
the camel-corps as one of the reinforcements which from time to time
arrived at that place. This was towards the close of July. It was a
curious sight to see four hundred camels going through their military
evolutions on the _maîdan_ or plain outside the city. These ungainly
beasts performed almost all the usual cavalry movements. Besides an
armed native driver, each camel carried an English soldier, who occupied
the back seat, and was in a position to use his rifle. The camels had
been trained to the word of command. On a recognised touch of the
guiding-string, they dropped on their knees, the riflemen descended
quickly, went on for a distance in skirmishing order, remounted on the
recall being signalled, and the camels then rose in their wonted clumsy
manner. This corps was likely to render very valuable service, by
rapidly conveying a few skilled riflemen to distances and over tracts
which would be beyond the reach of infantry.
The commander-in-chief, a man indefatigable in the performance of his
duties, acquired for himself the reputation of being a general who
insisted on all the duties of regimental service being properly attended
to by the officers; to the effect that all alike should _work_ for the
common cause, in camps and barracks, as well as in the field. The
following order, issued about the close of August, will shew how
numerous were the duties thus marked out: ‘The commander-in-chief begs
that general officers commanding divisions and brigades will urge
commanding-officers of her Majesty’s regiments, troops, and batteries,
to give their most particular attention to all points of interior
economy; to examine and correct regimental books; to re-enlist soldiers
of limited service willing to renew their engagements; to complete
soldiers’ clothing and necessaries, examine soldiers’ accounts,
soldiers’ claims, and small account-books; to close, and render to the
proper departments, the accounts of deceased officers and soldiers; to
examine arms, accoutrements, and ammunition, and repair deficiencies; to
continue judging-distance drills and musketry-instruction, as far as the
climate will permit; to provide occupation for soldiers without
harassing them by mere routine drills; to consider their comforts, diet,
and amusements; to re-establish the regimental school, and encourage by
every means the study of the Hindustani language, both by officers and
soldiers disposed to study it; to ascertain by inquiry what means exist
in the neighbourhood of their quarters, both in materials and workmen,
to furnish their regiments with boots and clothing, in the event of
failure of the usual supply; finally, to maintain the most exact
discipline, the strict performance of all duties, and proper marks of
respect to officers; which will be much assisted by a proper example on
the part of officers, in dress and deportment, regularity in their
duties, and treatment of native servants and followers.’
This last clause, ‘treatment of native servants and followers,’ related
to a serious matter. Many of the younger officers, chiefly those whose
knowledge of India had extended only over a few months, had acquired the
habit of speaking and writing of the natives as if they were all fiends
alike, to sabre and hang whom was a pleasurable duty. The atrocities of
some were visited on all. The ‘Pandies’ who had begun the mutiny were
now mixed up with others in the common designations of ‘niggers’ and
‘devils;’ and the officers above alluded to were far too prone to use
the stick or the whip on the shoulders of natives, simply because they
were natives, even when inoffensively employed. The observant
correspondents of some of the London journals were too much struck with
this dangerous tendency to allow it to pass unnoticed; they commented on
it with severity. The letters from officers, made public in the journals
published in India, furnished abundant proof of the feelings and
language adverted to, conveyed in their own terms. Unless the mutiny
were to end with general enmity on both sides, it was essential that an
improved tone should prevail in this matter; and to this end, many hints
were given by the authorities, in England as well as in India.
A few words will suffice to say all that need be said concerning the
Doab and Rohilcund, the regions in which the mutiny really commenced.
Rohilcund was troubled with nothing beyond trifling disturbances during
the month of July; and these came chiefly from Oude. Rebel leaders, with
small bands of depredators, crossed the frontier, and harried some of
the neighbouring villages. So little, however, was there of an organised
rebel army in the province, that the predatory irruptions were easily
quelled by means of small detachments of troops. At one period in the
month a body of Oudians crossed into the northern part of Rohilcund, and
combined with a rabble under one Nizam Ali in the wild Roodurpore tract
of country. As it was considered possible that an attack on Pileebheet
might be contemplated, the authorities at Bareilly sent a small
force—comprising the Rohilcund Horse, a troop or two of Punjaub cavalry,
and three companies of the Kumaon levies—to Pileebheet; this movement
caused the insurgents to retire quickly. In the neighbourhood of
Mohumdee, where much fighting had taken place during Sir Colin
Campbell’s campaign in the spring, bands of rebels still hovered about,
looking for any chances of success, and requiring to be carefully
watched. One, of about four thousand men, was under Khan Bahadoor Khan
of Bareilly; a second, under Khan Ali Nazim of Oude, numbered five
thousand; and a third, under Wilayut Shah, mustered three thousand.
These, with twenty or thirty guns, might have wrought much mischief if
combined with the Oude rebels; but they were so placed on the frontier
of the two provinces as to be nearly isolated, and afraid of any bold
movements. The authorities, however, were on their guard. A force,
including De Kantzow’s Horse, was sent for the protection of Powayne;
and Rajah Juggernath Singh, of that place, had about two thousand men
who could be depended upon to oppose the rebels. In August, the town and
station of Pileebheet were frequently threatened by one Kala Khan, who
had three thousand budmashes at his beck, with four guns. As it was
deemed necessary to defend Noria, a station about ten miles distant, a
small force was sent out from Pileebheet to effect this. Kala Khan
attacked the force at Sersown, and brought on an engagement in which his
three thousand were opposed to about five hundred. He received a severe
defeat, and lost his guns, three elephants, and a number of bullocks.
This occurred during the last week in August. In September, matters
remained nearly in the same state; the authorities in Rohilcund could
not at once spare troops in sufficient number to put down the insurgents
thoroughly; but the successes of Sir Hope Grant, in the central parts of
Oude, would gradually but necessarily weaken the isolated bands of
rebels on the frontier of the two provinces.
Meerut and Delhi had long been at peace. No symptoms of rebel armies
appeared near those cities. Sir John Lawrence, having had the province
of Delhi attached to his government of the Punjaub, was ruling it with
the same vigour as his other provinces. All the natives, Hindoo and
Mohammedan, saw that he was a man not to be trifled with. Many of the
antiquated usages of the East India Company, in force in other
provinces, he abrogated, and introduced a system more suitable to the
actual condition of the country and its inhabitants. The ‘regulations,’
as they are called, he abolished altogether; and established in their
place a system of government in which summary trial by _vivâ voce_
examination was adopted. A military police was organised; and every
village compelled to pay compensation for any damage done within its
boundaries.
The district around Etawah was occasionally disturbed by a dacoit leader
named Roop Singh, who collected a band of adherents, comprising a few of
the Gwalior Contingent, a few of the mutinied troops from Scindia’s own
army, and numerous matchlockmen from the ravines of the Jumna. With this
motley force he levied contributions from such of the villages as were
not strong enough to resist him. He made his appearance at Ajeetmul and
other places early in July; but was speedily routed out by a small
detachment sent in pursuit. During August, this part of India was
infested by men of the same class as those who troubled so many other
provinces—reckless adventurers and escaped felons, who took advantage of
the state of public affairs to plunder villages, and make exactions on
every side. Some of them were headed by chieftains who could boast of a
few hundred retainers, and who, with retainers and rabble together, gave
more organisation to the plunderers. The principal among them was Roop
Singh, mentioned above, who kept armed possession of a fort at Burhee,
Bhurree, or Burhay, at the junction of the Chumbul with the Jumna, and
occasioned great annoyance by attacking boats and levying toll as they
passed. To keep these several mischief-makers in subjection required
much activity on the part of the troops belonging to the district.
Towards the close of the month, a force was sent out from Etawah
purposely to take this fort and disperse the rebels. This was
effectually accomplished on the 28th. Suspecting what was intended, the
rebels attempted to check the progress of the boats carrying the
detachment, at a place called Gurha Koodor, a fortified village three
miles higher up. So long as the troops were in the boats, the rebels
made a show of determination on shore; but a landing soon scattered them
in all directions. The troops then re-embarked, floated down to Burhee,
landed, took possession of the fort, and compelled Roop Singh to make a
hasty retreat. This done, they collected and secured all the boats in
the neighbouring parts of the rivers Jumna, Chumbul, and Kooraree, as a
measure of precaution, clearing all the rebels from the vicinity of
Dholpore. They then proceeded against the chief of Chuckernuggur,
another leader of rebel bands whom it was necessary to put down. In
September, Etawah, like the other districts around it, was very little
troubled by warlike or mutinous proceedings.
Agra found no difficulty in maintaining order in and near the city.
When, in June, the temporary success of Tanteea Topee and the Gwalior
mutineers gave some cause for alarm, the authorities of Agra sent out
troops to escort Scindia back to the capital of his dominions; and when,
at a later date, those mutineers were fleeing from Gwalior, and were
believed to be on the way to Bhurtpore or Odeypore, a detachment was
sent out to check their approach. This detachment consisted of the 3d
Bengal Europeans and a battery of guns, and was placed in aid of
Brigadier Showers’s force. The demonstration took effect; for (as we
shall see more in detail presently), Tanteea Topee bent his steps
southward, away from the threatened assault; and Showers was enabled to
send back the detachment through Futtehpore Sikri to Agra. From that
time, during the summer and autumn months, Agra and its neighbourhood
were at peace.
Directing attention next to the Punjaub, we may remark that those who
had the keenest sense of the value of loyal integrity in times of
trouble, were anxious to see the day when some recognition should be
shewn of the services of three native rajahs, without whose co-operation
it would scarcely have been possible for Sir John Lawrence to have sent
those troops from the Punjaub which enabled Sir Archdale Wilson to
recapture Delhi. These were the Rajahs of Putialah, Jheend, and
Nabah—three small states which were at one time included within Sirhind,
then among the ‘Sikh protected states,’ and then among the ‘Cis-Sutlej
states.’ The rajahs were semi-independent, having most of the privileges
of independent rulers, but being at the same time under certain
engagements to the British government. If they had swelled the ranks of
the insurgents, it is difficult to see how Hindostan could have been
recovered; for these states intervene between Lahore and Umritsir on the
one side, and Delhi on the other. From first to last the rajahs not only
fulfilled their engagements, but more; and the government had abundant
reason to be glad that these three territories had not been ‘annexed;’
for annexation, if not the cause, was unquestionably one of the
aggravations to mutiny. Viscount Canning, in July, rewarded these three
Sikh chiefs (for they were Sikhs, though not exactly Punjaubees) with
estates and honours. The Rajah—or rather Maharajah, for he was of higher
grade than the other two—of Putialah received certain territories in
Jhujjur and Bhudour, on a certain military tenure in return for the
revenues. He also received the gift of a house at Delhi which, once
belonging to one of the begums of the imperial family, had been
confiscated on account of her complicity in the mutiny. Lastly, his
honorary titles were increased by the following: ‘Furzund Khan, Munsoor
Zuman, Ameer-ool-Omrah, Maharajah Dhurraj Rajahshur Sree Maharajah
Rajgan, Nirundur Singh Mahundur Bahadoor’—an accumulation, the weight of
which would be oppressive to any but an oriental prince. The translation
is said to be: ‘Special Son, Conqueror of the World, Chief of the
Chiefs, Maharajah of Rajahs’—and so on. The Rajah of Jheend received the
Dadree territory, thirteen villages in the Koolran Pergunnah, and a
confiscated royal house at Delhi. The additions were: That he be allowed
a salute of eleven guns; that his presents be increased from eleven to
fifteen trays; that his state visits to the governor-general be returned
by the secretary; and that his honorary titles be thus increased: ‘Most
cherished Son of true Faith, Rajah Surroop Singh Walee Jheend.’ The
Rajah of Nabah received similar presents, and the honorary appellations
of—‘Noble Son of good Faith, Berar Bunsee Sirmoor Rajah Bhurpoor Singh
Malindur Bahadoor.’ The revenues made over to these rajahs amounted—to
the first, about £20,000 per annum; to the second, £12,000; to the
third, £11,000.
[Illustration:
UMRITSIR.
]
We may smile at these extravagances of compliment, but the services
rendered deserved a solid reward as well as an addition to honorary
titles. For, it must be remembered, the Rajah of Putialah maintained a
contingent of 5000 troops—protected the stations of Umballa and Kurnaul
at the outbreak of the mutiny—guarded the grand trunk-road from Kurnaul
to Phillour, keeping it open for the passage of British and Punjaub
troops—co-operated with General Van Cortlandt in Hissar—lent money when
Sir John Lawrence’s coffers were running low—and encouraged others by
his own unswerving loyalty. Again: the Rajah of Jheend, whose contingent
was very small, did not hesitate to leave his own territory undefended,
and march towards Delhi—assisting to defend most of the stations between
that city and Kurnaul, and to keep open the communication across the
Jumna. Again: the Rajah of Nabah, at the very outset of the
disturbances, proceeded to aid Mr Commissioner Barnes in maintaining
Loodianah—supplied an escort for the siege-train—gallantly opposed the
Jullundur mutineers—provided carriage for stores—and made loans to the
Punjaub government in a time of monetary need. The districts given to
these rajahs, at the suggestion of Sir John Lawrence, were so chosen as
to furnish a prudent barrier of Sikhs between turbulent Mohammedans on
the one side and equally turbulent Rajpoots on the other.
Nor did the authorities neglect to recognise the services of humbler
persons, although, principally from the proverbial slowness of official
movements, the recognition was often delayed to an unreasonable extent.
Occasion has more than once presented itself, in former chapters, for
noticing the bestowal of the much-prized Victoria Cross on officers and
soldiers who had distinguished themselves by acts of personal valour.
Owing to the dilatory official routine just adverted to, it was not
until the 27th of July that Sergeant Smith and Bugler Hawthorne received
the Victoria Cross for their intrepid services at the siege of Delhi ten
months before. Their regiment, the 52d foot, was at Sealkote in the
Punjaub on that date; and Brigadier Stisted had the pleasure of giving
the honouring insignia to them. He told them that the Victoria Cross is
in reality more honourable than the Order of the Bath, seeing that no
one can obtain it except by virtue of well-authenticated acts of
heroism. He gracefully admitted that his own Order of the Bath was due
more to the pluck and bravery of his men than to his own individual
services; and in reference to the Victoria Cross he added: ‘I only wish
I had it myself.’ Another bestowal of this honour we will briefly
mention, to shew what kind of spirit is to be found within the breasts
of British troops. The award of the Cross, in this instance, was delayed
no less than fourteen months after the achievement for which it was
given; and the soldier may well have doubted whether he would ever
receive it. The instance was that of Gunner William Connolly, of the
Bengal horse-artillery; and the conduct for which his officer,
Lieutenant Cookes, recommended him for this distinction, was recorded in
a dispatch from which an extract is here given in a foot-note.[189]
A very unexpected event, in July, was the revolt of a regiment, or a
portion of a regiment, in that region of India which was believed to be
more vigorously governed and in better hands than any other—the Punjaub.
The facts, as they afterwards came out (mostly, however, on hearsay
evidence), appear to have been nearly as follow: The 18th Punjaub
infantry, stationed at Dera Ismael Khan, on the western side of the
Indus, contained among its numbers about a hundred Malwaie Sikhs, a
peculiar tribe different from the other Sikhs of the Punjaub. These
Malwaies planned a mutiny. On a particular night, some of them were to
murder the officers of the station; the fort was to be seized; and the
39th Bengal native infantry, which had been disarmed some time
previously, was to be re-armed from the magazines and stores of the
fort. The two regiments of mutineers, perhaps joined by the Sikhs of
Renny’s regiment at Bunnoo, were then to embark in boats on the Indus,
taking with them the guns, ammunition, and treasure, and were to float
down to Dera Ghazee Khan; here they expected to be joined by the native
garrison, with whom they would cross the Indus to Moultan; and lastly,
with two regiments from the last-named place, they hoped to march upon
Lahore. Such was the account, probably magnified in some of its
particulars, obtained of the plans of the mutineers. So far as concerned
the actual facts, the plot was discovered in time to prevent its
execution. On the evening of the 20th, Major Gardiner of the 10th
Punjaub infantry, and Captain Smith of the artillery, having received
from some quarter a hint of what was intended, went down to the lines at
ten o’clock at night, and summoned two of the men to appear. One, a
sepoy, came first; he was ordered at once to be confined; but no sooner
did he hear the order, than he ran off. Just as the guard were about
re-capturing this man, a jemadar rushed out, cut down one of them, and
wounded another. The sepoy and the jemadar, who were the ringleaders in
the plot, escaped for a time, but were captured a few days afterwards.
As soon as Sir John Lawrence heard of this occurrence, he ordered the
disarmed 39th to be sent to Sealkote, where their movements could be
more carefully watched.
Still more serious, in its nature if not in its intention, was the
outbreak of the 62d and 69th Bengal native infantry, with a native troop
of horse-artillery, at Moultan. These disarmed regiments, like many
others in similar plight, were a source of embarrassment to the
authorities. They could not safely be re-armed, for their Hindustani
sympathies caused them to be suspected; while it was a waste of power to
employ English soldiers to watch these unarmed men in their lines. At
length it was determined to disband the two regiments, and let the men
depart, a few at a time, and under necessary precautions, to their own
homes. When this order was read out to them, they appeared satisfied;
but a rumour or suspicion spread that there was an intention of
destroying them piecemeal on the way. Whether this or any other motive
actuated them, is not fully known; but they broke out into rebellion on
the 31st of August. There were at Moultan at the time about 170 of the
royal artillery, a wing of the 1st Bengal Europeans, the 11th Punjaub
infantry, and the 1st Bengal irregular cavalry. Just as the mid-day gun
fired, the two disarmed mutinous regiments rose in mutiny, seized
anything they could find as weapons, and made a desperate assault on the
troops at the station not in their plot. The 62d made their attack on
the artillery stables and the European barracks; the 69th went at the
guns and the artillery barracks. As these mutineers had few weapons but
sticks, their attack appeared so strange, and was so wholly unexpected,
that the loyal troops at the station were at first hardly prepared to
resist them, and a few Europeans lost their lives; but when once the
real nature of the mad attempt was clearly seen, the result was fearful.
The misguided men were shot or cut down by all parties and in all
quarters. Of thirteen hundred mutineers, few lived to return to their
own Hindostan; three or four hundred were laid low in and near Moultan,
others were shot by villagers, others were captured and brought in for
military execution. It was the nearest approach to the utter
annihilation of two regiments, perhaps, that occurred throughout the
wars of the mutiny. The sepoys sometimes behaved more like madmen, at
others more like children, than rational beings. In the present case
they had scarcely a chance of success; for the Sikhs and Punjaubees
around them displayed no affection for Hindustanis; the soldiery shot
and cut them down, while the peasantry captured them for the sake of the
reward offered. They possibly reckoned on the support of the 1st Bengal
irregular cavalry; but this regiment remained loyal, and assisted in
cutting down the sepoys instead of befriending them.
This occurrence strongly attracted the attention of the government. The
disarmed sepoys, as has been more than once mentioned, were a source of
much perplexity; it was not decided in what way best to set them free;
and on the other hand, such an outbreak as this shewed that it would not
be safe to re-arm them. There was at the same time a necessity for
watching the Sikh and Punjaubee troops—now nearly 70,000 in number.
Hitherto they had behaved admirably, fighting manfully for the
government at times and places where the Hindustanis had been
treacherous. That they had done so, afforded a justification for the
confidence which Sir John Lawrence had placed in them; but that
sagacious man saw that recruiting had gone quite far enough in this
direction. It was just possible that the Punjaub army might become too
strong, and rejoice in its strength by means of insubordination.
One of the incidents in the Punjaub during the month of August related
to a physical rather than a moral outbreak—the overwhelming of a
military station by a river torrent. The Indus, when about to enter the
Punjaub from the Himalaya, passes through a narrow ravine in the Irhagan
Hills. The rocks on either side here, undermined by the action of the
water through unknown centuries, broke away and fell into the river.
Half the water of the stream still continued to find its way onward; but
the other half became dammed up, and accumulated into a vast lake. When
the pressure of this body of water had augmented to an irresistible
degree (which it did in fifteen days), it burst its barrier and rushed
down with indescribable force, sweeping away villages on its banks. At
Attock the level of the river rose fifty feet in one hour, carrying away
the bridge of boats which constituted the only roadway over the Indus,
and destroying workshops and timber-stores on the banks. The Cabool
river, coming from Afghanistan, and joining the Indus at Attock, had its
stream driven backwards or upwards with fearful rapidity; it speedily
overflowed its banks, and destroyed nearly all the houses at the
military station of Nowsherah. ‘The officers,’ said an eye-witness, ‘not
knowing when it would stop, but hoping the flood would soon subside, put
all their things on the tops of their houses; but the water still
continued rising, and house after house went down before it.... The
barracks were flooded and vacated by the troops; and all, gentle and
simple, had to pass the night on some sand-hills.’ The barracks, being
‘pucka-built’ (burnt bricks and mortar), were not destroyed, although
flooded; the other buildings, being ‘rutcha-built’ (unburnt bricks and
mud), were destroyed. The troops were at once removed to Peshawur; but
the destruction of the boat-bridge at Attock threatened a serious
interruption to military movements.
Nothing occurred in the Punjaub during September to need record here;
nor did Sinde depart from its usual peaceful condition. Both of these
large provinces, filling up the western belt of India from the Himalaya
to the ocean, were held well in hand by the civil and military
authorities.
Attention must now be transferred to those regions which, during many
months, had been disturbed by anarchy and rebellion—Bundelcund, the
Mahratta States, and Rajpootana. These large territories contained many
petty chieftains, among whom a considerable number were prone to seize
this opportunity to strengthen themselves by plundering their
neighbours. Of patriotism, there was little enough; men appeared in arms
for their own interests, or what they deemed their own interests, rather
than for any common cause involving nationality or affection to native
princes.
Bundelcund and the Saugor provinces were chiefly under the military
control of General Whitlock, who had advanced from Madras with a force
consisting chiefly of Madras troops, and had gradually established
regular government in districts long troubled by violence and confusion.
At the end of June, as the last chapter shewed, Whitlock’s force was
divided into a great many detachments, which overawed the turbulent at
as many different stations; and the same state of matters continued,
with slight variations, during the next three months. It must, however,
be mentioned here, in relation to military commands, that—as one mode of
facilitating the thorough discomfiture of the rebels—Viscount Canning
made a new arrangement affecting the Saugor and Gwalior territories.
That portion of India having been much disturbed during a period of more
than twelve months, it was determined to establish there two military
divisions instead of one, and to place in command of those divisions two
of the generals who by hard fighting had become accustomed to the
district and the class of inhabitants. General Whitlock was appointed to
the Saugor division, which was made to extend to the Jumna, and to
include the districts of Saugor, Jubbulpoor, Banda, Humeerpoor, and
Calpee, with Saugor as the military head-quarters. General Napier was
appointed to the Gwalior division, which was made to include Gwalior,
Sepree, Goonah, and Jhansi. This arrangement, organised about the end of
July, was to hold good whether any rebels should make a sudden outbreak,
or whether the troops were fortunate enough to have a period of repose
during the rainy season. Whitlock’s force, consisting of H.M. 43d foot,
the 1st and 19th Madras native infantry, with a proportion of cavalry
and artillery—was mainly in two brigades, under Brigadiers Macduff and
Rice.
Brief mention was made in the last chapter of a large capture of
treasure by General Whitlock. This matter must here be noticed a little
more fully, on account of its connection with the intricacies of
Mahratta dynastic changes. During the general’s operations in
Bundelcund, he marched from Banda towards Kirwee in two brigades,
intending to attack Narain Rao at the last-named place. This chieftain,
a descendant of the Peishwa of the Mahrattas, possessed a rabble army,
with which for a time he attempted to block up the roads of approach to
Kirwee. The resistance made, however, was very slight; and shortly
before Whitlock entered the place, Radha Govind, an adherent of Narain
Rao, escaped from the town in the opposite direction, taking with him
most of the armed men, and a large quantity of money and jewels, but no
guns. Narain Rao, and another Mahratta leader named Madhoo Rao, remained
at Kirwee. Their fears having been roused, they now resolved to
surrender as a means of obtaining forgiveness for their rebellious
proceedings. They came out to meet Whitlock, at a camping-ground a few
miles from Kirwee. Delivering up their swords, they were kept securely
for a time. Whitlock took possession of the town and palace, and found
that the rebels had been busily engaged in casting cannon, making
gunpowder, and enlisting men. In the palace and its precincts were
discovered forty pieces of cannon, an immense supply of shot and powder,
two thousand stands of arms, numerous swords and matchlocks,
accoutrements of many of the rebel sepoy regiments, elephants and
horses, and a vast store of wealth in cash and jewels. It was
conjectured that the jewels might possibly be those which, half a
century earlier, had mysteriously disappeared from Poonah, and were
supposed to be in possession either of Scindia or Holkar, the most
powerful of the Mahratta chiefs in those days; but the discovery now led
to an opinion that the jewels had been stolen or appropriated by Bajee
Rao, father of Narain Rao, and hidden by that family for half a century.
As to the quantity and value of cash and jewels captured, it will be
prudent to venture on no estimate. Some of the Anglo-Indian journals
spoke of ‘a hundred and forty cart-loads of gold ingots and nuggets, and
forty lacs of rupees,’ besides the jewels; but to whatever degree this
estimate may have been exaggerated, the largeness of the sum gave rise
to many inquiries concerning the history of the family to which it had
belonged, and of which Nena Sahib was an ‘adopted’ member. It then
transpired, that the first Peishwa of the Mahrattas, who died in 1720,
was succeeded by Balajee Rao Sahib; one of Balajee’s sons, Ragoba Dada,
died in 1784; and from him were descended Narain Rao and Madhoo Rao, by
one branch, and Nena Sahib by another—or rather, all these three
individuals were adopted sons of Ragoba’s descendants. According to the
loose principles of oriental heirship, therefore, it was not difficult
for any one among several Mahratta princes to set up a claim to the
enormous wealth which, at a time of discord at the Peishwa’s court,
somehow disappeared from the treasury at Poonah.
Throughout India, there was no province which more strikingly
illustrated than Bundelcund the misery which some of the villages must
have suffered during many months of anarchy, when predatory bands were
passing to and fro, and rebel leaders were forcing contributions from
all who had anything to lose. Writing early in July concerning the Banda
district, a British officer said: ‘This district has suffered very
extensively in the long interval of disorder to which it was abandoned;
the various bands of mutineers passing up from Dinapoor did great
mischief; various powerful villages preyed considerably upon their
weaker neighbours; and, lastly, the Nawab and Narain Rao’s officials
extracted by torture every farthing they could get. Many villages are
completely deserted, and many more have been burned to the ground, and
the people plundered of all the grain and cattle and other property
which they possessed. They have gained a very fair idea of what they are
to expect under a native government; and I firmly believe they generally
hail our return with delight.’
The difficulty of supplying English troops, or reliable native troops,
to the numerous points where insurgents were known to be lurking, led
occasionally to rebel successes little looked for by the authorities.
Thus, on the first of August, a party of mutinous sepoys, headed by a
subadar, took possession of the town of Jaloun, near the frontier of
Scindia’s territory; this they were enabled to do by the connivance of
some of the inhabitants, who opened the gates for them. They were,
however, speedily driven out by a small force from Calpee, under
Brigadier Macduff. A slight but brilliant cavalry affair occurred about
the middle of August, in a district of the Saugor territory placed under
General Whitlock’s care. A body of a thousand rebels, under Indur Goshun
and other chiefs, had for some time been committing great havoc in the
district, plundering the villages, and ill-using all the inhabitants who
would not yield to their demands. After having thus treated Shahpoor,
they advanced to Garrakotah with similar intent. To prevent this, a
small force was sent from Saugor under Captain Finch. He made a forced
march; and when within a few miles of them, seeing his infantry were
tired out, he rushed forward with only sixty-seven troopers. So
impetuous was the charge made by these horsemen on the rebels, that they
killed a hundred and fifty, took many wounded prisoners, and brought
away three hundred matchlocks and swords. The leader of the rebels,
Indur Goshun, was among the slain. In another part of Bundelcund,
between Banda and Rewah, about the middle of August, were three groups
of rebels—one under Baboo Radha Govind and Gulabraee, a second under
Runmunt Singh, and a third under Punjah Singh and Dere Singh. They were
supposed to amount, in all, to six thousand men; but only three hundred
of these were regular sepoys, and two hundred horsemen, the rest being
adventurers and rabble. After ravaging many villages, they approached
the station of Kirwee on the 13th. Brigadier Carpenter at once went out
to meet them with a small force from Kirwee; he found Runmunt Singh’s
band drawn up as if for battle, but a few shots sent them fleeing. About
the same time Punjab Singh and Dere Singh were defeated by a small force
under Captain Griffin. Early in August, Captain Ashburner set out from
Jhansi with five hundred men, on the duty of dispersing a few Bundela
chiefs who had been engaged in rebellious machinations. The weather
being very heavy, and the rebels swift of foot, a long period elapsed
before anything decisive could be effected; but on the 1st of September,
he came up with a body of rebels, occupying Mahoni and Mow Mahoni, two
villages on the opposite banks of the small river Pooj, both surrounded
by deep and difficult ravines, which rendered them strong places. After
a little skirmishing, the rebels were driven by shot and shell out of
Mahoni, and Ashburner crossed to attack a fort at Mow Mahoni. Symptoms
soon appeared that the rebels were making off. Ashburner despatched
fifty cavalry, all he had to spare at the moment, under Lieutenant
Moore, to gallop after and cut them up in retreat. Moore effected this
in dashing style.
We now turn to a region further west, in which the operations were more
important than those of Bundelcund.
Referring to former chapters for the details of Sir Hugh Rose’s victory
over the Gwalior mutineers, and of his retirement to Bombay after a long
season of incessant activity; we proceed to notice the operations of the
troops after he parted company from them. His small but famous army, the
‘Central India Field-force,’ was broken up into detachments about the
middle of July. The hope entertained was, that the fatigued soldiers
might be able to go into quarters during the rainy season, as a means of
recruiting their strength for any operations that might be necessary
when the cooler and more tranquil weather of the autumn arrived. To
understand this, it may be well to bear in mind that the rains of
Britain furnish no adequate test of those of India, which fall in
enormous abundance at certain seasons, rendering field-operations,
whether for industry or war, very difficult. The detachments above
adverted to could only in part obtain cessation of duties during the
rainy season of 1858. At Jhansi were General Napier and Colonel Liddell;
with a squadron of the 14th Light Dragoons, a wing of the 3d Bombay
cavalry, the 3d Bombay Europeans, the 24th Bombay native infantry, a
company of Bombay Sappers, and three guns of the late Bhopal Contingent.
At Gwalior, under Brigadier Stuart, were three squadrons of the 14th
Light Dragoons, Meade’s Horse, a wing of the 71st Highlanders, the 86th
foot, the 95th foot, the 25th Bombay native infantry, a company of
Bombay artillery, a company of royal engineers, and a light
field-battery. At Seepree, under Brigadier Smith, were two squadrons of
the 8th Hussars, two of the 1st Bombay Lancers, the 10th Bombay native
infantry, and a troop of Bombay horse-artillery. Lastly, at Goonah, were
Mayne’s irregular horse. Sir Hugh Rose himself was at that time at
Bombay receiving the well-won congratulations of all classes, and
resting for a while from his exhausting labours.
At Gwalior, where the rainy season soon began to shew symptoms, General
Napier made preparations for the comfortable housing of his troops. The
Maharajah, now more firmly knit than ever in bonds of amity with the
British, lent his aid in this matter. Sir Robert Hamilton again took up
his permanent residence in the city, gradually re-establishing political
relations with the various petty states around. During July there was
scarcely any fighting in Scindia’s territory; and the component elements
of the now-dissolved Central India Field-force were allowed to remain
pretty well at peace.
Before tracing the Central India operations of August, it may be well to
see what was doing in Rajpootana during July.
After the siege and capture of Gwalior by Sir Hugh Rose, as we have
already narrated, the rebels made a hasty flight northwestward, across
the river Chumbul, into Rajpootana; where a victory was gained over them
by General Napier, who had been despatched after them for that purpose
by Sir Hugh Rose. They appear to have separated, after that, into three
bodies. The most important section, under Tanteea Topee and Rao Sahib,
received the especial watchfulness of General Roberts, as comprising
some of the best of the mutinied troops, and possessing a large amount
of Scindia’s property. Roberts took up the work which Rose had laid
down. His ‘Rajpootana Field-force,’ now that detachments had been
separated from it for service in various quarters, was by no means a
large one. It comprised H.M. 83d foot, a wing of the 72d Highlanders,
wings of the 12th and 13th Bombay native infantry, a few squadrons of
the 8th Hussars and 1st Bombay Lancers, 400 Belooch horse, a light
field-battery, and a siege-train of six pieces. The chief body of
rebels, under Tanteea Topee and Rao Sahib, made their appearance, a few
days after their defeat at Gwalior, at a point more than a hundred miles
to the northwest, threatening Jeypoor. Roberts at once marched from
Nuseerabad, to check these fugitives. He reached Jeypoor without
opposition on the 2d of July; and there he learned news of Tanteea’s
miscellaneous force of about ten thousand men. The rebel leader was
reported to have with him Scindia’s crown-jewels and treasure, the
former estimated at one million sterling value, and the latter at two
millions. The treasure, being mostly in silver, was of enormous weight;
and Tanteea had been endeavouring to exchange it for gold, on terms that
would have tempted any money-changer in more peaceful times: seeing that
fifty shillings’ worth of silver was offered for gold mohurs worth only
thirty shillings each. On the 5th Tanteea and his troops were at
Dowlutpore, thirty-four miles south of Jeypoor; and it thereupon became
a problem whether Roberts could overtake them before they reached the
more southern states of Rajpootana; for he was on that day at Sanganeer,
near Jeypoor. During the next few days, large bodies of rebels were
seen, or reported to have been seen, at places whose names are not
familiar to English readers—such as Chatsoo, Lalsoont, Tongha, Gureasa,
Karier, Madhopore, Jullanee, Tonk, Bursoonie, Bhoomgurh, &c.—all
situated in the northeast part of Rajpootana, and separated from the
Gwalior region by the river Chumbul. We also find that General Roberts
marched through or halted at many places whose names are equally
unfamiliar—Sherdoss, Gurbroassa, Glooloussee, Donghur, Kukkor, Rumpore,
and Bhugree. In fact, the rebels marched wherever they thought they
could capture a stronghold which might serve them as a citadel; while
Roberts tried every means to intercept them in their progress. On the
9th, the rebels took possession of the town of Tonk—situated on the
river Bunnas, nearly due east of Nuseerabad, and about one-third of the
distance from that station to Gwalior; they plundered it, captured three
brass guns and a little ammunition, and besieged the Nawab in the
neighbouring fort of Bhoomgurh. Roberts immediately sent on a detachment
under Major Holmes, in advance of his main force; and the enemy hastily
departed as soon as they heard of this. To enable him to keep up the
pursuit more effectually, the general sent to Seepree for Colonel
Smith’s brigade. There was strong reason to suspect that the rebels
wished to penetrate into Mewar and Malwah, provinces far to the south of
Gwalior and Jeypoor, and in which the Mahrattas and Rajpoots counted
many leaders who were ripe for mischief. To prevent this southward
progress was one of the objects which General Roberts held well in view;
this was the more necessary, because the country here indicated affords
many mountain fastnesses from which it would be difficult to expel
insurgent bands. Roberts was disappointed in not being able to come up
with the Gwalior rebels at Tonk; but a few days’ sojourn at that town
greatly relieved his troops, who had suffered severely during a
fortnight’s marching in sultry weather, losing many of their number by
sun-stroke.
By the 23d of the month, when Major Holmes was still in pursuit of the
enemy, who were reported to be approaching the fortress of Mandulghur in
Mewar, Roberts broke up his temporary camp at Tonk, and recrossed the
river Bunnas—his movements being greatly retarded by the swollen state
of the stream and the swampy condition of the fields and roads. After
wading for a whole week through an almost continuous slimy swamp, he
came within twenty-four miles of Nuseerabad on the 1st of August.
Sending all his sick to that station, he prepared to continue a pursuit
of Tanteea Topee towards the south, with as great a rapidity as the
state of the country would permit.
We now turn again to the Gwalior territory, to trace such operations as
took place in the month of August.
About the middle of the month, there were no fewer than five detachments
of the late Central India Field-force marching about the country on and
near the confines of Scindia’s Gwalior territory. Sir Hugh Rose’s wish
and expectation, that his exhausted troops would be able to remain
quietly at quarters during the rainy season, were not realised; the
state of affairs rendered active service still necessary. One
detachment, under General Napier, had set out from Gwalior, and was on
the way to Paoree, on an expedition presently to be mentioned; a second
was at Burwa Saugor, on the river Betwah; a third at Nota, sixty miles
from Jhansi, on the Calpee road; a fourth at Fyzabad (one of many places
of that name), fifty miles from Jhansi on the Saugor road; and a fifth,
consisting of Sappers and Miners, were preparing a bridge over the
Betwah, ten miles from Jhansi. Colonel Liddell, at that period
commandant of the Jhansi district, was on the alert to supply small
detachments of troops to such places in the vicinity as appeared to need
protection; and he himself started off to Burwa Saugor, near which place
a rebel chieftain was marching about with three thousand men and two or
three guns.
A circumstance occurred, early in August, which led to an expedition in
a new direction, and to an eventual co-operation of General Napier with
General Roberts in a pursuit of the rebels. This occurrence was an
outbreak which required immediate attention. A petty Mahratta chieftain,
Man Singh (not Maun Singh of Oude), who had conceived himself aggrieved
by Scindia, put himself at the head of 2000 men, and on the 3d of the
month, attacked and captured the strong fort of Paoree, southwest of
Gwalior, and about eighteen miles from Seepree. Brigadier Smith, on
hearing of this, started off on the 5th from the last-named station,
with a force consisting of four squadrons of the 8th Hussars, the 1st
Bombay Lancers, a wing of H.M. 95th foot, and three field-guns. On
nearing Paoree, Man Singh sent a messenger to inquire what was the
purpose of the brigadier, seeing that the quarrel was with Scindia and
not with the English; he obtained an interview, and stated that his
grievance arose from the refusal of Scindia to recognise his (Man
Singh’s) right to succeed his father in the principality of Nerwar and
the country adjacent; and he further declared that he had no connection
with the mutineers and rebels who were fighting against the English.
Brigadier Smith, responsible for a time for the peace of that district,
could not admit such a plea in justification of the maintenance of an
armed force against the sovereign of the country; it would have been
dangerous. Man Singh, thereupon, increasing the number of his retainers
within the fort of Paoree to three or four thousand, prepared to defend
himself. Scindia had some time before stored the fort with six months’
provisions, in case he should deem it at any time necessary to defend
the place from the rebels; but this proved to be an unlucky precaution,
for Man Singh captured the place in a single night, and then had the six
months’ supplies to count upon. Brigadier Smith, finding his eleven
hundred men too few to capture the fort, sent to Gwalior for a
reinforcement and for a few siege-guns. In accordance with this
requisition, a force of about 600 horse and foot, with five guns and
four mortars, set out from Gwalior on the 11th. General Napier, feeling
the importance of settling this matter quickly, resolved to attend to it
in person; he started from Gwalior, reached Mahona on the 14th, and
Seepree on the 17th, and joined Smith on the 19th. On the 23d, this
demonstration had its effect on Man Singh, who, with another chieftain,
Ajheet Singh, had been holding Paoree. Napier poured a vertical fire
into the fort for twenty-four hours, and then commenced using his
breaching-batteries. But the enemy did not await the result; they
evacuated the place, and fled through a jungle country towards the
south. Napier entered Paoree, garrisoned it, and hastily made up a
column, with which Colonel Robertson started off in pursuit of the
rebels. Robertson, after many days’ rapid march, came up nearly to the
rear of Man Singh’s fleeing force; but that active leader, scenting the
danger, made his rebels separate into three parties, with instructions
to recombine at an appointed place; and for the present pursuit was
unavailable. When August closed, Man Singh was at Sirsee, north of
Goonah, with (it was supposed) about sixteen hundred men, but no guns.
General Napier, having destroyed the fortifications at Paoree, and burst
the guns, retired to Seepree, where he was encamped at the end of the
month, making arrangements for a further pursuit of Man Singh in
September.
While the forces in the Gwalior territory were thus employed, General
Roberts was engaged in a more important series of operations in
Rajpootana. On the 1st of August, as we have seen, Roberts was
sufficiently near Nuseerabad to send his sick to that station, where
they could be better attended to than on the march; while he himself
would be more free to make a rapid advance southward. Major Holmes, many
days before, had been sent from Tonk by Roberts, with a force consisting
of 120 Bombay Lancers, 220 of H.M. 72d foot, four companies of the 12th
Bombay N.I., and four guns—to pursue the retreating rebels in a certain
(or rather an uncertain) direction. The duty was a most harassing one.
It was difficult to obtain reliable information of the route taken by
the rebels; and even when the route was known, they never once allowed
him to overtake them—so rapid were their movements. So important was it
considered to catch these Gwalior mutineers, that the Bombay government
(with whom the operations in Rajpootana rested) sent out small
expeditionary forces from various places, according as probabilities
offered for intercepting the mutineers. Thus, on the 1st of August,
Major Taylor started from Neemuch with a force, consisting of 300 of
H.M. 72d Highlanders, 400 of the 13th Bombay N.I., 180 of the 2d Light
Cavalry, a few engineers, four guns, and a military train. It was
believed that, on that day, about seven thousand of the Gwalior
mutineers were somewhere between Chittore and Rampoora, a few miles
distant from Neemuch; and Major Taylor entertained a hope that he might
intercept and defeat them. We have already seen that General Roberts had
had a most harassing duty, attended with very little success, seeing
that he could seldom manage to reach a town or village in which the
rebels had halted, until after they had taken their departure; and it
was now Major Taylor’s turn to share the same ill-luck. He returned to
Neemuch on the 7th, disappointed. His advance-guard had seen the rebels
near Rampoora in great force; yet the latter, though many times stronger
than himself in troops, would not stand the chance of an engagement. The
rebels escaped, and Taylor returned with his mission unfulfilled.
[Illustration:
JEYPOOR.
]
One advantage, at any rate, the British could count upon at this
period—the fidelity of many native rajahs, who would have terribly
complicated the state of affairs if they had joined the rebels. Tanteea
Topee sounded the Rajah of Jeypoor, then the Rajah of Kotah, next the
Rajah of Ulwar, all of them native princes of Rajpootana; and it was on
account of the refusal of those rajahs to receive or countenance him,
that the rebel made such strangely circuitous marches from one state to
another. Whither he went, however, thither did Roberts follow him. The
general, after sending his sick to Nuseerabad, marched to Champaneer on
the 4th, and to Deolia on the 5th. At that time, it was believed that
the rebels, checked in some of their plans by the floods, had turned
aside from Mandulghur to Deekodee, in the direction of Odeypore. On the
8th—after a forced march with 500 of H.M. 83d, 200 Bombay infantry, 60
Gujerat horse, and three guns—General Roberts came up with a body of
rebels near Sunganeer (not Sauganeer near Jeypoor), where they occupied
a line on the opposite side of the river Rotasery. He speedily routed
them; but as usual, they fled too rapidly for him to overtake them; they
made towards the Odeypore road. Roberts, again disappointed of his prey,
was forced to rest his exhausted troops for a while.
The general, when Major Holmes had rejoined him after a fruitless
pursuit of the mutineers, again considered anxiously the conditions and
possibilities of this extraordinary chase. He had, each day, to
endeavour to discover the locality of the rebels, then to guess at their
probable future movements, and, lastly, to lay plans for overtaking or
intercepting them. On the 11th, they were supposed to be at Lawah; and
on the 12th, they marched to the crest of the Chutterbhoog Ghaut, with a
view of passing from Mewar into Marwar. Captain Hall, commanding at
Erinpoora, held a post at the foot of this ghaut, with a small force
sufficient to deter the rebels. They thereupon changed their plan,
retraced their steps to some distance, and marched over a rocky country
to Kattara or Katario, a village near the Nathdwara Hills; here they
encamped on the 13th. Meanwhile General Roberts, with his force
strengthened by that of Major Holmes, started from the vicinity of
Sunganeer on the 11th, and by the evening of the 13th had marched
sixty-seven miles. On that night he was at Kunkrowlee, within eight
miles of the rebels; but his troops were too much exhausted to proceed
further without a little rest. On the forenoon of the 14th he descried
the enemy defiling through a very hilly country covered with rocks and
loose stones; he had, in fact, reached Kattara, the village mentioned
above. They took up an excellent position on a line of rocky hills, on
the crest of which they planted four guns, which they began to work
actively. Roberts thereupon sent Major Holmes by a detour into that
region; for, even if the rebels were not overtaken, it would be
desirable to give them no rest to consolidate their plans. At length the
general had the gratification of overtaking and defeating these
insurgents, in search of whom he had been so long engaged. He advanced
his troops through the defile, his horse-artillery beating off the enemy
until the infantry could form into line. After a brief period, the
rebels shewed symptoms of retiring. On mounting the crest, the infantry
saw them endeavouring to carry away two of their guns with a small
escort; a volley soon set them to flight, and rendered the guns an easy
capture. The flight soon became a rout; the rebels escaped in various
directions, and the victors came upon a camp covered with arms and
accoutrements. The cavalry and horse-artillery followed the fugitives
for ten miles, cutting down great numbers. Roberts captured all the guns
which the enemy had brought from Tonk, four elephants, a number of
camels, and much ammunition—with surprisingly little loss to himself.
It was at this time regarded, by some of the authorities, as a hopeful
symptom that the rebels were now descending to a part of India inhabited
by Bheels and other half-civilised tribes, who would think much more of
the wealth than of the so-called patriotism of the mutineers. Most of
Tanteea Topee’s men were laden with silver coin, their share of the
booty from Gwalior; this cash they carried with them, although in food
and clothing they were ill provided; and there was a probability that,
if once they ceased to be a compact army, they would individually be
robbed by the Bheel villagers. Nevertheless, whatever may have been the
hope or expectation in this respect, Roberts and his officers could
never intercept the treasure which Tanteea Topee was known to have with
him. This treasure, consisting of jewels and money (except the share of
plunder distributed among the men) was carried on elephants; and so well
were those elephants guarded, whether during fighting or fleeing, that
the British could never capture them.
Few of the troops in British service had had harder work with little
brilliant result than those in General Roberts’s Rajpootana Field-force.
The country is wild and rugged, the weather was rainy and hot at the
same time, and the duty intrusted to the troops was to chase an enemy
who would not fight, and who were celebrated for their fleetness in
escaping. Hence it was with more than usual pleasure that the
hard-worked men regarded their victory at Kattara; they felt they had a
fair claim to the compliment which their commander paid them, in a
general order issued the day after the battle.[190]
After the victory at Kattara, Roberts left the further pursuit of the
rebels for a time to Brigadier Parkes. This officer had started from
Neemuch on the 11th with a miscellaneous force of about 1300 men,
comprising 72d Highlanders, native infantry, Bombay cavalry, royal
engineers, royal artillery, Bheels, and Mewar troopers. By a series of
forced marches, Parkes headed the rebels in such a way as greatly to aid
General Roberts at Kattara. A few days’ sojourn having refreshed them,
the troops were again brought into action. Tanteea Topee, by amazing
quickness of movement, traversed a wide belt of country eastward to the
river Chumbul, which he crossed near Sagoodar on the 20th. Continuing
his route, he arrived at Julra Patteen, a town on the main road from
Agra to Indore; it was on the confines of the Rajpoot and Mahratta
territories, and was held by a petty chieftainess or Rana. After a brief
conflict, in which he was assisted by a few of the troops of the Rana,
who broke their allegiance, he captured the place, levied contributions
on the inhabitants, and took possession of all the guns, treasure, and
ammunition he could find. Here, then, this extraordinary conflict took a
new turn; a new region had to be attended to, although against the same
offender as before; and new columns had to be despatched in pursuit. The
flooding of the river Chumbul cut off Roberts and Parkes for a time from
a further pursuit of Tanteea Topee; and therefore two new columns were
sent, one from Indore under Colonel Hope, and one from Mhow under
Colonel Lockhart. The great point now was to prevent Tanteea from
getting into Malwah, and thence crossing the Nerbudda into the Deccan.
Before treating of the operations against this leader in September, it
may be well to see what progress was made in checking the rebel leader
who had appeared in Scindia’s territory—Man Singh. General Napier made
up a new force, comprising certain regiments from his own and Brigadier
Smith’s brigades, and placed it under the command of Colonel Robertson,
with baggage and vehicles so arranged as to facilitate rapid movement.
Setting out from Paoree on the 27th of August, the colonel marched
eighteen miles to Bhanore; on the 28th, nineteen miles to Gunneish; and
so on for several days, until he reached Burrumpore, near the river
Parbuttee. Here, on the 2d of September, he learned that a body of
rebels, under Man Singh, were a few miles ahead, endeavouring to reach a
fort which they might seize as a stronghold. Pushing on rapidly,
Robertson came up with them on the 5th, near the village of Bujeepore.
They had not kept a good look-out; they had no suspicion that an active
British officer was at their heels; consequently, when Robertson came
suddenly upon them with horse and foot, while they were preparing their
morning meal, their panic was extreme. They fled through the village,
over a hill, across a river, and into a jungle; but the pursuers were so
close behind them that the slaughter was very considerable. These rebels
were nearly all good troops, from Scindia’s body-guard and from the
Gwalior Contingent; they were supposed to have been among the fugitives
from Gwalior with Tanteea Topee, but at what time or in what locality
they had separated from that leader, and joined Man Singh, was not
clearly known. About the middle of the month, Colonel Robertson was at
Goonah; Brigadier Smith was searching for Man Singh; while General
Napier was watching for any symptoms of the approach of the last-named
leader towards Gwalior or its vicinity.
While affairs were thus progressing in the Mahratta country during
September, new efforts were made to meet the existing state of things a
little further to the west. When Tanteea Topee crossed the Chumbul
towards Julra Patteen, and when that river began to swell, General
Roberts’s Rajpootana Field-force was unable conveniently to continue the
pursuit of the rebel; and, therefore, arrangements were made from the
south. As a means of hemming in the rebels as much as possible, and
preventing them from carrying their mischief into other regions, a
‘Malwah Field-force’ was sent up from Mhow, under General Michel.
Tanteea Topee does not appear to have regarded Julra Patteen as a
stronghold in which it was worth his while to remain; he plundered the
place of some treasure and many guns, and then took his departure. He
must, however, have wavered considerably in his plans; for he took a
fortnight in reaching Rajghurh—a place only sixty miles distant. He was
probably seeking for any rajah or chieftain who would join his standard.
At Rajghurh, Tanteea Topee was joined by some of the beaten followers of
Man Singh, probably by Man Singh himself, and seemed to be meditating an
attack upon Bhopal. Tanteea and Michel were now both contending which
should reach a particular station first, on the Bhopal and Seronj road,
as the possession of that station (Beora) would give the holder a
powerful command over the district—especially as it was one of the
telegraph stations, by which Calcutta and Bombay held communication with
each other. Michel came up with Tanteea Topee on the 15th of September,
before he reached Beora. The rebels would not meet him openly in the
field, but kept up a running-fight. When they saw defeat awaited them,
they thought more of their elephant-loads of treasure than of their
guns; they escaped with the former, and abandoned the latter, which they
had brought from Julra Patteen. At the expense, of one killed and three
wounded, General Michel gained a victory which cost the enemy three
hundred men, twenty-seven guns, a train of draught bullocks, and much
ammunition.
Towards the close of September, Tanteea Topee was in this remarkable
position. He was near Seronj, on the high road from Gwalior to Bhopal,
looking for any outlet that might offer, or for any chieftain who would
join his standard. Roberts was on the west of him; Napier, Smith, and
Robertson were on his north; Michel, Hope, and Lockhart, on the south;
and Whitlock on the east. Active he assuredly had been; for since the
fall of Gwalior he and his mutineers and budmashes had traversed a vast
area of the Rajpoot and Mahratta territories; but he was now within the
limits of a cordon, from which there was little chance of his ultimate
escape.
Of the other parts of India, it is scarcely necessary here to say
anything. The course of peaceful industry had been little disturbed, and
the civil government had been steadily in the ascendant. All round the
west and south of Rajpootana did this state of things continue, and so
downward into the long-established districts of Surat, Poonah, Bombay,
&c. It is well to observe, however, that even in the Bombay presidency,
slight occurrences shewed from time to time that the leaven of
Hindustani ‘pandyism’ was working mischief. The safety of that army
depended on an admixture of different creeds and castes in its ranks;
there were in it Rajpoots and Brahmins, as in the (late) Bengal native
army, and these elements were sometimes worked upon by fermenters of
mischief. Generally speaking, however, these, as well as the other
components of the Bombay army, behaved well. Their faithfulness was
shewn in the month of August, in connection with a circumstance which
might else have been productive of disaster. Among the troops quartered
at Gwalior after its reconquest by Sir Hugh Rose was the 25th Bombay N.
I., containing, like other regiments of the same army, a small
proportion of Hindustani Oudians. A non-commissioned officer of this
regiment, a havildar-major, went to the adjutant, and told him that a
Brahmin pundit, one Wamun Bhut, was endeavouring to tamper with the
Hindustanis of the regiment, and, through them, with the regiment
generally; he also expressed an opinion that there were persons in the
city of Gwalior concerned in this conspiracy. Captain Little, when
informed by the adjutant of this communication, laid a plan for
detecting the plotters. He found Havildar-major Koonjul Singh, Naik
Doorga Tewarree, and private Sunnoo Ladh ready to aid him. These three
native soldiers, pretending to bend to the Brahmin’s solicitations,
gradually learned many particulars of the conspiracy, which they
faithfully revealed to the captain. A purwannah or written order was
produced, from no less a personage than Nena Sahib, making magnificent
promises if the regiment, or any portion of it, would join his standard;
they were to kill all their officers, and as many Europeans as possible,
and then depart to a place appointed. At length, on the 29th, the naik
made an appointment to meet the two chief conspirators, a Brahmin and a
Mahratta chief, under a large tree near the camp; where the
havildar-major would expect to have an opportunity of reading the
purwannah. Captain Little, with the adjutant and the quartermaster,
arranged to move suddenly to the spot at the appointed time: they did
so; the conspirators were seized, and the document taken from them. Two
other leaders in the plot were afterwards seized: all four were blown
from guns on the 7th of September; and many others were placed in
confinement on evidence furnished by the purwannah itself. It became
evident that Nena Sahib, a Mahratta, had many emissaries at work in this
Mahratta territory, although he himself was hiding in inglorious
security far away.
[Illustration:
POONAH.
]
Lord Elphinstone, governor of Bombay, with his commander-in-chief, Sir
Henry Somerset, established several new corps, as means of gradually
increasing the strength of the Bombay army. Two Belooch regiments, a 2d
regiment of South Mahratta Horse, and a Bombay Naval Artillery Brigade,
were among the new components of the army.
The South Mahratta country, lower down the peninsula than Bombay, had
quite recovered from the disturbances which marked it in earlier months.
Satara, Kolapore, Sawuntwaree, Belgaum—all were peaceful. On the eastern
or Madras side of the peninsula, too, troubles were few. It is true,
there was a repetition in September of a dispute which had occurred
three months before, between natives who wished to bring up their
children in their own faith, and missionaries who wished to convert
those children to Christianity; but this was a source of discord which
the governor, if firm, could readily allay. Lord Harris had not an
Indian reputation like that of Lawrence or Elphinstone; but he had tact
and decision enough for the duties of his office—the maintenance of
peace in a presidency where there were few or no Hindustani sepoys.
Of the large country of the Deccan, Hyderabad, or the Nizam’s dominions,
nothing disastrous has to be told. A pleasant proof was afforded of the
continuance of friendly relations between the British and the Nizam, by
a grand banquet given at Hyderabad on the 2d of July by Salar Jung to
Colonel Davidson. These two officers—the one prime-minister to the
Nizam, the other British resident at the Nizam’s court—had throughout
the mutinies acted in perfect harmony and good faith. All the British
officers and their families at Secunderabad, the cantonment of the
Hyderabad Contingent, were invited. The guests came from Secunderabad to
the Residency at Hyderabad, and thence on elephants and in palanquins to
the minister’s palace. The entertainment was in celebration of the birth
of the Nizam’s son, Meer Akbar Ally, heir to the throne of the Deccan;
and everything was done, by an admixture of oriental magnificence with
European courtesies, to render it worthy of the occasion. It was,
however, not so much the grandeur of the banquet, as the sentiment it
conveyed towards the British at a critical time, that rendered this
proceeding on the part of the Nizam’s prime-minister important. The
Nizam’s dominions were at that time the scene of party struggles between
two sets of politicians—the adherents of Salar Jung, and those of
Shumsul Oomrah; but both of the leaders were fortunately advocates of an
English alliance.
[Illustration:
HYDERABAD.
]
The northwest portion of the Nizam’s dominions, around Aurungabad and
Jaulnah, in near neighbourhood to some of the Mahratta states, was
troubled occasionally by bands of marauders, who hoped to establish a
link of connection between the anarchists of Hindostan and those of the
Deccan. They were, however, kept in check by Colonel Beatson, who
brought his corps of irregulars, ‘Beatson’s Horse,’ to Jaulnah, there to
remain during the rainy season—maintaining order in the surrounding
districts, and holding himself ready to march with his troopers to any
disturbed region where their services might be needed.
-----
Footnote 184:
To the officers’ hospital—_Calcutta Englishman_, _Bengal Hurkaru_,
_Phœnix_, _Illustrated London News_, _Punch_, _Blackwood’s Magazine_,
_Fraser’s Magazine_, _New Monthly Magazine_, _Monthly Army List_, four
copies _Chambers’s Journal_, four copies _Family Herald_. To the men’s
hospitals—two copies _Calcutta Englishman_, two copies _Bengal
Hurkaru_, two copies _Phœnix_, two copies _Illustrated London News_,
two copies _Punch_, two copies _Household Words_, twelve copies
_Chambers’s Journal_, twelve copies _Family Herald_.
Footnote 185:
See Chap. xxvii., pp. 450-461.
Footnote 186:
Ibid, p. 459.
Footnote 187:
‘1. The dispatch condemns in the strongest terms the proclamation
which, on the 3d of March, I directed the chief-commissioner of Oude
to issue from Lucknow.
‘2. Although written in the Secret Committee, the dispatch was made
public in England three weeks before it reached my hands. It will in a
few days be read in every station in Hindostan.
‘3. Before the dispatch was published in England, it had been
announced to parliament by a minister of the Crown as conveying
disapproval in every sense of the policy indicated by the
governor-general’s proclamation. Whether this description was an
accurate one or not I do not inquire. The telegraph has already
carried it over the length and breadth of India.
‘4. I need scarcely tell your honourable committee that the existence
of such a dispatch, even had it never passed out of the records of the
Secret Department, would be deeply mortifying to me, however confident
I might feel that your honourable committee would, upon
reconsideration, relieve me of the censure which it casts upon me.
Still less necessary is it for me to point out that the publication of
the document, preceded as it has been by an authoritative declaration
of its meaning and spirit, is calculated greatly to increase the
difficulties in which the government of India is placed, not only by
weakening the authority of the governor-general, but by encouraging
resistance and delusive hopes in many classes of the population of
Oude.
‘5. So far as the dispatch and the mode in which it has been dealt
with affect myself personally, I will trouble your honourable
committee with very few words. No taunts or sarcasms, come from what
quarter they may, will turn me from the path which I believe to be
that of my public duty. I believe that a change in the head of the
government of India at this time, if it took place under the
circumstances which indicated a repudiation on the part of the
government in England of the policy which has hitherto been pursued
towards the rebels of Oude, would seriously retard the pacification of
the country. I believe that that policy has been from the beginning
merciful without weakness, and indulgent without compromise of the
dignity of the government. I believe that wherever the authority of
the government has been established, it has become manifest to the
people in Oude, as elsewhere, that the indulgence to those who make
submission, and who are free from atrocious crime, will be large. I
believe that the issue of the proclamation which has been so severely
condemned was thoroughly consistent with that policy, and that it is
so viewed by those to whom it is addressed. I believe that that
policy, if steadily pursued, offers the best and earliest prospect of
restoring peace to Oude upon a stable footing.
‘6. Firm in these convictions, I will not, in a time of unexampled
difficulty, danger, and toil, lay down of my own act the high trust
which I have the honour to hold; but I will, with the permission of
your honourable committee, state the grounds upon which those
convictions rest, and describe the course of policy which I have
pursued in dealing with the rebellion in Oude. If, when I have done
so, it shall be deemed that that policy has been erroneous, or that,
not being erroneous, it has been feebly and ineffectually carried out,
or that for any reason the confidence of those who are responsible for
the administration of Indian affairs in England should be withheld
from me, I make it my respectful but urgent request, through your
honourable committee, that I may be relieved of the office of
governor-general of India with the least possible delay.’
Footnote 188:
It may here be mentioned that, about the date to which these events
refer, the commander-in-chief began to be frequently designated by his
peerage-title. He had been created Baron Clyde of Clydesdale, in
recognition of his valuable military services. To prevent confusion,
however, it may be well, in the remaining pages of this work, to
retain the more familiar appellation, Sir Colin Campbell.
Footnote 189:
‘I advanced my half-troop at a gallop, and engaged the enemy within
easy musket-range. The sponge-man of one of my guns having been shot
during the advance, Gunner Connolly assumed the duties of second
sponge-man; and he had barely assisted in two discharges of his gun,
when a musket-ball through the left thigh felled him to the ground.
Nothing daunted by pain and loss of blood, he was endeavouring to
resume his post, when I ordered a movement in retirement. Though
severely wounded, he was mounted on his horse in the gun-team, rode to
the next position which the guns took up, and manfully declined going
to the rear when the necessity of his so doing was represented to him.
About 11 o’clock A.M., when the guns were still in action, the same
gunner, while sponging, was again knocked down by a musket-ball
striking him on the hip, thereby causing great faintness and partial
unconsciousness; for the pain appeared excessive, and the blood flowed
fast. On seeing this, I gave directions for his removal out of action;
but this brave man, hearing me, staggered to his feet and said: “No,
sir; I’ll not go there while I can work here;” and shortly afterwards
he again resumed his post as sponge-man. Late in the afternoon of the
same day, my three guns were engaged at a hundred yards from the walls
of a village with the defenders—namely, the 14th native infantry,
mutineers—amid a storm of bullets, which did great execution. Gunner
Connolly, though suffering severely from his two previous wounds, was
wielding his sponge with an energy and courage which attracted the
admiration of his comrades; and while cheerfully encouraging a wounded
man to hasten in bringing up ammunition, a musket-ball tore through
the muscles of his right leg. With the most undaunted bravery, he
struggled on; and not till he had loaded six times, did this man give
way, when, through loss of blood, he fell into my arms; I placed him
upon a wagon, which shortly afterwards bore him in a state of
unconsciousness from the fight.’
Footnote 190:
The major-general commanding has sincere pleasure in congratulating
the troops under his command on the great success achieved by them
yesterday. All have shewn most conspicuous gallantry in action; and
the patient unmurmuring endurance of fatigue during the recent forced
marches has enabled them to close with an enemy proverbially active in
movements. The horse-artillery and cavalry (the latter nineteen hours
in the saddle) have by their spirit and alacrity completed the
success, and inflicted a most signal punishment on the rebels. The
major-general tenders his hearty thanks to all, and doubts not but
their brave and earnest devotion will meet with the approval of his
excellency the commander-in-chief.
[Illustration:
Government Buildings, Madras.—From a Drawing by Thomas Daniell.
]
CHAPTER XXXIII.
LAST DAYS OF THE EAST INDIA COMPANY’S RULE.
The demise of the great East India Company has now to be recorded—the
cessation of functions in the mightiest and most extraordinary
commercial body the world ever saw. The natives of India never did and
never could rightly understand the relations borne by the Company to the
crown and nation of England. They were familiar with some such name as
‘Koompanee;’ but whether this Koompanee was a king, a queen, a viceroy,
a minister, a council, a parliament, was a question left in a state of
ludicrous doubt. And no wonder. It has at all times been difficult even
for Englishmen, accustomed to the daily perusal of newspapers, to
understand the relations between the Crown and the Company. Men asked
whether the Punjaub was taken possession of by the Queen or by the
Company; and if by the Queen, why the Company was made to bear the
expense of the Punjaub war? So of the war in Persia, the annexation of
Oude, the disastrous campaign in Afghanistan, the Burmese war—were these
operations conducted by and for the Queen, or by and for the
Company?—who was to blame if wrong?—who to bear the cost whether right
or wrong?—who to reap the advantage? Even members of parliament gave
contradictory answers to these and similar questions; nay, the cabinet
ministers and the Court of Directors disputed on these very points. The
Company was gradually shorn of its trading privileges by statutes passed
in the years 1813, 1833, and 1853; and as its governing privileges had,
in great part, gone over to the Board of Control, it seemed by no means
clear for what purpose the Company continued to exist. There was a
guarantee of 10½ per cent. on £6,000,000 of India stock, secured out of
the revenues of India—the stock to be redeemable by parliament at cent.
per cent. premium after the year 1874; and it appeared as if the whole
machinery of the Indian government was maintained merely to insure this
dividend, and to obtain offices and emoluments for persons connected
with the Company. The directors always disowned this narrow view of the
Company’s position; and there can be no doubt that many of them and of
their servants had the welfare of the magnificent Indian empire deeply
at heart. Still, the anomaly remained, of a governing body whose
governing powers no one rightly understood.
When the Revolt began in 1857, the nation’s cry was at once against the
East India Company. The Company must have governed wrongly, it was
argued, or this calamity would never have occurred. Throughout a period
of six months did a storm of indignation continue, in speeches,
addresses, lectures, sermons, pamphlets, books, reviews, magazines, and
leading articles in newspapers. By degrees the inquiry arose, whether
the directors were free agents in the mode of governing India; whether
the Board of Control did not overrule them; and whether the disasters
were not traceable fully as much to the Board as to the directors? Hence
arose another question, whether the double government—by a Court sitting
in Leadenhall Street, and a Board sitting in Cannon Row—was not an evil
that ought to be abolished, even without reference to actual blame as
concerning the Revolt? The virulent abuse of the Company was gradually
felt to be unjust; but the unsatisfactory nature of the double
government became more and more evident as the year advanced.
There was a preliminary or short session of parliament held in that
year, during a few days before Christmas, for the consideration of
special business arising out of the commercial disasters of the autumn;
but as every one knew that India and its affairs must necessarily
receive some notice, the speech from the throne was looked for with much
eagerness. On the 3d of December, when parliament met, the ministers put
into the Queen’s mouth only this very brief allusion to projected
changes in the Indian government: ‘The affairs of my East Indian
dominions will require your serious consideration, and I recommend them
to your earnest attention.’ These vague words were useless without a
glossary; but the glossary was not forthcoming. Ministers, when
questioned and sounded as to their plans, postponed all explanations to
a later date.
The first public announcement of the intentions of the government was
made shortly before Christmas. A General Court of Proprietors of the
East India Company was held on the 23d of December, for the discussion
of various matters relating to India; and, in the course of the
proceedings, the chairman of the Company announced that, on the 19th, an
official interview had been held, by appointment, with Lord Palmerston.
On this occasion, the prime minister informed the Court of Directors
that it was the intention of the ministry, early in the approaching
year, to bring a bill into parliament for the purpose of placing the
government of British India under the direct authority of the crown. In
this interview, as in the royal speech, no matters of detail were
entered upon. The members of parliament in the one assembly, the
proprietors of East India stock in the other, were equally unable to
obtain information concerning the provisions of the intended measure.
All that could be elicited was, that the ‘double government’ of India
would cease; and a written notice or letter to this effect was
transmitted from the First Lord of the Treasury to the Court of
Directors on the 23d.
During the period of six or seven weeks between the preliminary and the
regular sessions, the journalists had full scope for their speculations.
Those who, from the first, had attributed the Revolt in India to the
Company’s misgovernment, rejoiced in the hoped-for extinction of that
body, and sketched delightful pictures of happy India under imperial
sway. Those who supported the Company and vested interests, predicted
the utter ruin of British influence in India if ‘parliamentary
government’ were introduced—a mode of government, as they alleged,
neither cared for nor understood by the natives of that region, and
utterly unsuited to oriental ideas. Those, the moderate thinkers, who
believed that on this as on other subjects the truth lies between two
extremes, looked forward hopefully to such a change as might throw new
vigour, and more advanced ideas, into the somewhat antiquated policy of
the East India Company, without destroying those parts of the system
which had been the useful growth of long experience. Many things had
transpired during the year, tending to shew that the Court of Directors
had been more prompt than the Board of Control, in matters requiring
urgent attention; and that, therefore, whatever might be the evils of
the double government, it would not be just to throw all the onus on the
Company.
Early in January 1858, on a requisition to that effect, a special Court
of Proprietors was summoned, to meet on the 15th, for considering ‘the
communication addressed to the Court of Directors from the government
respecting the continuance of the powers of this Company.’ At this
meeting, it transpired that the directors had written to Lord
Palmerston, just before the Christmas vacation; but as no cabinet
council had been held in the interim, and as no reply to that letter had
been received, it had been deemed most courteous towards the government
to withhold the publication of the letter for a time. A long debate
ensued. One of the proprietors brought forward a resolution to the
effect, ‘That the proposed transfer of the governing power of the East
India Company to the crown is opposed to the rights and privileges of
the East India Company, fraught with danger to the constitutional
interests of England, perilous to the safety of the Indian empire, and
calls for the resistance of this corporation by all constitutional
means.’ Many of the supporters of this resolution carried their
arguments to the verge of extravagance—asserting that ‘our Indian
empire, already tottering and shaking, will fall to the ground without
hope of recovery, if the East India Company should be abolished’—and
that ‘by means of the enormous patronage that would be placed in the
hands of the government, ministers would possess the power of corrupting
the people of this country beyond the hope of their ever recovering
their virtue or their patriotism.’ Most of the defenders of the Company,
however, adopted a more moderate tone. Colonel Sykes, speaking for
himself and some of his brother-directors, declared: ‘If we believed for
one moment that any change in the present administration of the
government of India would be advantageous to the people of India, would
advance their material interests, and promote their comforts, we should
gladly submit to any personal suffering or loss contingent upon that
change.’ He added, however, ‘By the indefeasible principles of justice,
and the ordinary usages of our courts of law, it is always necessary
that a bill of indictment with certain counts should be preferred before
a man is condemned; and I am curious to know what will be the counts of
the indictment in the case of this Company; for at present we have
nothing but a vague outline before us.’ Finally it was agreed to adjourn
the discussion, on the ground that, until the views of the government
had been further explained, it would be impossible to know whether the
words of the resolution were true, that the proposed change would be
‘fraught with danger to the constitutional interests of England, and
perilous to the safety of the Indian empire.’
On the renewal of the debate at the India House, on January 20th, the
directors presented a copy of a letter which they had addressed to the
government on the last day of the old year. In this letter they said:
‘The court were prepared to expect that a searching inquiry would be
instituted into the causes, remote as well as immediate, of the mutiny
in the Bengal native army. They have themselves issued instructions to
the government of India to appoint a commission in view to such an
inquiry; and it would have been satisfactory to them, if it had been
proposed to parliament, not only to do the same, but to extend the scope
of the inquiry to the conduct of the home government, for the purpose of
ascertaining whether the mutiny could, wholly or partially, be ascribed
to mismanagement on the part of the court acting under the control of
the Board of Commissioners. But it has surprised the court to hear that
her Majesty’s government—not imputing, so far as the court are informed,
any blame to the home authorities in connection with the mutiny, and
without intending any inquiry by parliament, or awaiting the result of
inquiry by the local government—should, even before the mutiny was
quelled, and whilst considerable excitement prevailed throughout India,
determine to propose the immediate supersession of the authority of the
East India Company; who are entitled, at least, to the credit of having
so administered the government of India, that the heads of all the
native states, and the mass of the population, amid the excitements of a
mutinous soldiery inflamed by unfounded apprehension of danger to their
religion, have remained true to the Company’s rule. The court would fail
in their duty to your lordship and to the country if they did not
express their serious apprehension that so important a change will be
misunderstood by the people of India.’ This letter failed to elicit any
explanatory response from the government. Lord Palmerston, in a reply
dated January 18th, after assuring the directors that their observations
would be duly considered by the government, simply added: ‘I forbear
from entering at present into any examination of those observations and
opinions; first, because any correspondence with you on such matters
would be most conveniently carried on through the usual official channel
of the president of the Board of Control; and, secondly, because the
grounds on which the intentions of her Majesty’s government have been
formed, and the detailed arrangements of the measure which they mean to
propose, will best be explained when that measure shall be submitted to
the consideration of parliament.’ The directors about the same time
prepared a petition to both Houses of Parliament, explanatory of the
reasons which induced them to deprecate any sudden transference of
governing power from the Company to the Crown. As this petition was very
carefully prepared, by two of the most eminent men in the Company’s
service; as it contains a considerable amount of useful information; and
as it presents in its best aspects all that could be said in favour of
the Company—it may fittingly be transcribed in the present work. To
prevent interruption to the thread of the narrative, however, it will be
given in the Appendix (A), as the first of a series of documents.[191]
When these various letters and petitions came under the notice of the
Court of Proprietors, they gave rise to an animated discussion. Most of
the proprietors admired the petition, as a masterly document; and many
of the speakers dwelt at great length on the benefits which the Company
had conferred upon India. One of the directors, Sir Lawrence Peel,
feeling the awkwardness of dealing with a government measure not yet
before them, said: ‘I have not signed the petition which you have just
heard read; and I will shortly state the reason why. I entirely concur
in the praises which have been bestowed upon that document. It is a most
ably reasoned and worded production; it does infinite credit to those
whose work it is; and it is much to the honour of this establishment
that it has talent capable of producing such a document. But I have not
signed the petition, because I have not thought it a prudent course to
petition against a measure, the particulars of which I am not acquainted
with.’ The debate was further adjourned from the 20th to the 27th, and
then to the 28th, when the speeches ran to great length. On one or other
of the four days of meeting, most of the directors of the Company
expressed their opinions—on the 13th, Mr Ross D. Mangles (chairman), and
Colonel Sykes; on the 20th, Sir Lawrence Peel and Captain Eastwick; on
the 27th, Mr Charles Mills, Sir Henry Rawlinson, Captain Shepherd, Mr
Macnaghten, and Sir F. Currie (deputy-chairman); on the 28th, Mr Prinsep
and Mr Willoughby. As might have been expected, a general agreement
marked the directors’ speeches; they were the arguments of men who
defended rights which they believed to be rudely assailed. Some of the
directors complained that the government notice was not explicit enough.
Some thought that, at any rate, it clearly foreshadowed the destruction
of the Company’s power. Some contended that, if the Company did not
speak out at once, it would in a few weeks be too late. Some insisted
that the government brought forward the proposed measure in order to
shift the responsibility for the mutiny to other shoulders. Some accused
the ministers of being influenced by a grasping for patronage, a desire
to appropriate the nominations to appointments. One of the few who
departed from the general tone of argument was Sir Henry Rawlinson, who
assented neither to the resolution nor to the petition. He dwelt at some
length on the two propositions mainly concerned—namely, ‘that the
transfer of the government of India to the Crown would be unjust to the
East India Company;’ and that such transfer ‘would be fatal to British
rule in India.’ Most of the other speakers had contended or implied that
the first clause of this statement involved the second; that the
transfer would be equally unjust to the Company, and injurious to India.
Sir Henry combated this. He contended that the connection was not a
necessary one. After a very protracted debate, the original resolution
was passed almost unanimously; and then the petition to both Houses of
Parliament was sanctioned as that of the Company generally.
Just at this period, the directors caused to be prepared, and published
at a cheap price, an elaborate ‘_Memorandum of the Improvements in the
Administration of India during the last Thirty Years_.’ It was evidently
intended to fall into the hands of such members of parliament as might
be disposed to take up the cause of the Company in the forthcoming
debates, and to supply them with arguments in favour of the Company,
derived from a recital of the marked improvements introduced in Indian
government. To this extent, it was simply a brief placed in the hands of
counsel; but the _Memorandum_ deserves to be regarded also in a
historical light; for nothing but a very narrow prejudice could blind an
observer to the fact that vast changes had been introduced into the
legislative and administrative rule of India, during the period
indicated, and that these changes had for the most part been conceived
in an enlightened spirit—corresponding in direction, if not in
intensity, with the improved state of public opinion at home on
political subjects.
Parliament reassembled for the regular session on the 4th of February,
fully alive to the importance of attending to all matters bearing on the
welfare of India. Earl Grey, on the 11th, presented to the House of
Lords the elaborate petition from the East India Company, lately
adverted to. Characterising this as a ‘state paper deserving the highest
commendation,’ the earl earnestly deprecated the abolition of the Court
of Directors, and the transfer of their authority to the ministry of the
day; grounding his argument on the assumption that the interposition of
an independent body, well informed on Indian affairs, between the
government and the natives of that country, was essential to the general
welfare. He admitted the need for reform, but not abolition. The Duke of
Argyll, on the part of the government, admitted that the Company’s
petition was temperate and dignified, but denied that its reasoning was
conclusive. The Earl of Ellenborough, agreeing that the Queen’s name
would be powerfully influential as the direct ruler of India, at the
same time doubted whether any grand or sweeping reform ought to be
attempted while India was still in revolt. The Earl of Derby joined in
this opinion, and furthermore complained of discourtesy shewn by the
ministers toward the directors, in so long withholding from them a
candid exposition of the provisions of the intended measure.
On the following day, the 12th of the month, the long-expected bill was
introduced to the House of Commons by Lord Palmerston—or rather, leave
to bring in the bill was moved. The first minister of the Crown, in his
speech on the occasion, disowned any hostility to the Company, in
reference either to the Revolt or to matters of general government. He
based the necessity for the measure on the anomaly of the Company’s
position. When the commercial privileges were withdrawn, chiefly in
1833, the Company (he urged) became a mere phantom of what it had been,
and subsided into a sort of agency of the imperial government, without,
however, responsibility to parliament. Admitting the advantages of
checks as securities for honesty and efficiency in administrative
affairs, he contended that check and counter-check had been so
multiplied in the ‘double government’ of India, as to paralyse action.
He considered that complete authority should vest where complete
responsibility was expected, and not in an irresponsible body of
merchants. His lordship concluded by giving an outline of the bill by
which the proposed changes were to be effected.
As the Palmerston Bill, or ‘India Bill, No. 1,’ as it was afterwards
called, was not passed into a law, it will not be necessary to reprint
it in this work; nevertheless, to illustrate its bearing on the
subsequent debates, the pith of its principal clauses may usefully be
given here: The government of the territories under the control of the
East India Company, and all powers in relation to government vested in
or exercised by the Company, to become vested in and exercised by the
sovereign—India to be henceforth governed in the Queen’s name—The real
and personal property of the Company to be vested in Her Majesty for the
purposes of the government of India—The appointments of governor-general
of India, with ordinary members of the Council of India, and governors
of the three presidencies, now made by the directors of the Company with
the approbation of her Majesty, and other appointments, to be made by
the Queen under her royal sign-manual—A council to be established, under
the title of ‘The President and Council for the Affairs of India,’ to be
appointed by her Majesty—This council to consist of eight persons,
exclusive of its president—In the first nomination of this council, two
members to be named for four years, two for six, two for eight, and two
for ten years—The members of council to be chosen from among persons who
had been directors of the East India Company, or ten years at least in
the service of the Crown or Company in India, or fifteen years simply
resident in India—Members of council, like the judges, only to be
removable by the Queen, on an address from both Houses of Parliament—The
president of the council eligible to sit in the Commons House of
Parliament—Four members of council to form a quorum—Each ordinary member
to receive a yearly salary of £1000; and the president to receive the
salary of a secretary of state—The council to exercise the power now
vested in the Company and the Board of Control; but a specified number
of cadetships to be given to sons of civil and military servants in
India—Appointments hitherto made in India to continue to be made in that
country—Military forces, paid out of the revenues of India, not to be
employed beyond the limits of Asia—Servants of the Company to become
servants of the crown—The Board of Control to be abolished.
Such was the spirit of the bill which Lord Palmerston asked leave to
introduce. Mr T. Baring moved as an amendment, ‘That it is not at
present expedient to legislate for the government of India.’ Thereupon a
debate arose, which extended through three evenings. The government
measure was supported by speeches from Lord Palmerston, Sir Erskine
Perry, Mr Ayrton, Sir Cornwall Lewis, Mr Roebuck, Mr Lowe, Mr Slaney,
Sir W. Rawlinson, Mr A. Mills, Sir Charles Wood, and Lord John Russell;
while it was opposed on various grounds by Mr T. Baring, Mr Monckton
Milnes, Sir J. Elphinstone, Mr Ross D. Mangles, Mr Whiteside, Mr
Liddell, Mr Crawford, Colonel Sykes, Mr Willoughby, Sir E. B. Lytton,
and Mr Disraeli. The reasonings in favour of the government measure were
such as the following: That the proper time for legislation had come,
when the attention of the country was strongly directed to Indian
affairs; that all accounts from India shewed that some great measure was
eagerly expected; that it was dangerous any longer to maintain an
effete, useless, and cumbrous machine, which the Court of Directors had
virtually become; that the Company’s ‘traditionary policy’ unfitted it
to march with the age in useful reforms; that as the Board of Control
really possessed the ruling power, the double government was a sham as
well as an obstruction; that the princes of India felt themselves
degraded in being the vassals and tributaries of a mere mercantile body;
that, such was the anomaly of the double government, it was possible
that the Company might be at war with a power with which her Majesty was
at peace, thus involving the nation in inextricable embarrassment; that,
with the exception of a very small section of the covenanted civil
servants, the European community and the officers of the Indian army
would prefer the government of the crown to that of the Company; that
the natives of India having been thrown into doubt concerning the
intentions of the Company to interfere with their religion, some
authoritative announcement of the Queen’s respect for their views on
that subject would be very satisfactory; and that as the native Bengal
army had disappeared, as India must in future be garrisoned by a large
force of royal troops, and as the military power would then belong to
the crown, it was desirable that the political power should go with it.
Among the pleas urged on the opposite side were such as follow: That the
natives of India would anticipate an increased stringency of British
power, under the proposed _régime_; that the ministerial influence and
patronage, in Indian matters, would be dangerous to England herself;
that as the Whig and Conservative parties had both supported the system
of double government in the India Bill of 1853, there was no reason for
making this sudden change in 1858; that before any change of government
was effected, it was imperatively necessary that an inquiry should be
made into the causes and circumstances of the Revolt; that the direct
exercise of governing power by a queen, formally designated ‘Defender of
the Faith,’ could not be agreeable either to the Hindoos or the
Mohammedans of India, whose ideas of ‘faith’ were so widely different
from those of Christians; that, as all previous organic changes in the
administration of the government of India had been preceded by an
inquiry into the character of that government, so ought it in fairness
to be in the present case; that if the proposed change were effected,
European theories and novelties, owing to the pressure of public opinion
on the ministry, would be attempted to be grafted on Asiatic prejudices
and immobility, without due regard to the inherent antagonism of the two
systems; and that the enormous extent, population, revenue, and commerce
of India ought not to be imperiled by a measure, the consequences of
which could not at present be foreseen.
This debate ended on the 18th; the House of Commons, by a majority of
318 to 173, granting leave for the introduction of the bill—it being
understood that a considerable time would elapse before the second
reading, in order that the details of the measure might be duly
considered by all who took an interest in the matter.
Before, however, any very great attention could be given to the subject,
either in or out of parliament, a most unexpected change took place in
the political relations of the government. The same minister who, on the
18th of February, obtained leave to bring in the India Bill, was placed
on the 19th in a minority which led to the resignation of himself and
his colleagues. Circumstances connected with an attempted assassination
of the Emperor of the French induced the Palmerston government to bring
in a measure which proved obnoxious to the House of Commons; the measure
was rejected by 234 against 219, and the government accordingly
resigned. So far as concerned the immediate effect, the most important
fact connected with India was the offer by the Earl of Derby, the new
premier, of the presidency of the India Board to the Earl of
Ellenborough. This nobleman had long been in collision with the East
India Company and its civil servants. Twice already had he been
president of the Board of Control, and in 1842-3-4 he had filled the
responsible office of governor-general of India. In both offices, and at
all times, he had cherished as much as possible the royal influence in
India against the Company’s, the military against the civil. As a
consequence, his enemies were bitter, his friends enthusiastic. The
author of an anonymous ‘red pamphlet,’ which attracted much notice
during the Revolt, spoke of the Earl of Ellenborough as the one great
man who could alone be the saviour of India—as the chivalrous knight who
would shiver to atoms the ‘vested rights’ and ‘traditionary policy’ of
the Court of Directors. It was natural, therefore, that the accession of
the earl to the new government should be regarded as an important
matter, either for good or evil.
It speedily became apparent that the new president of the Board of
Control would find difficulty in framing a line of proceeding on Indian
affairs. His own predilections were quite as much against the Company,
as those of his predecessor; but many of his colleagues in the Derby
government had committed themselves, when out of office, to a defence of
the Company, and to a condemnation of any immediate alteration in the
Indian government. Either he must change his opinions, or they belie
their own words. The Court of Directors would fain have expected
indulgent treatment from the Derby administration, judging from the
speeches of the two preceding months; but their past experience of the
Earl of Ellenborough threw a damp over their hope.
Three weeks after the vote which occasioned the change of government,
Lord Palmerston proposed the postponement of the second reading of his
India Bill until the 22d of April—a further lapse of six weeks; and this
was agreed to. He would not withdraw the bill, because he still adhered
to its provisions; he would not at once proceed with it, because his
opponents were now in office, and he preferred to see what course they
would adopt. The fate of India was thus placed in suspense for several
weeks, simply through a party struggle arising out of French affairs;
the great question—’Who shall govern India?’—was made subservient to
party politics.
Although Lord Palmerston had named the 22d of April as the day for
reconsidering his India Bill, this did not tie down the Derby ministry
to the adoption of any particular line of policy. After many discussions
in the cabinet, it was resolved that the ministers should ‘eat their
words’ by legislating for India, although it had before been declared a
wrong time for so doing; and that, throwing Lord Palmerston’s bill
aside, a new India Bill should be introduced.
Accordingly, on the 26th of March, Mr Disraeli, the new Chancellor of
the Exchequer, moved for leave to bring in that which was afterwards
called the ‘India Bill No. 2.’ As in a former instance, this bill may be
most usefully rendered intelligible by a condensed summary: A secretary
of state for India, to be appointed by the Queen—This secretary to be
president of a Council of India—The council to consist of eighteen
persons, nine nominated and nine elected—The nominated councillors to be
appointed under the royal sign-manual by the crown, and to represent
nine distinct interests—Those nine interests to be represented as
follow: the first councillor to have belonged for at least ten years to
the Bengal civil service; the second to the Madras service; the third to
the Bombay service; and the fourth to the Upper or Punjaub provinces,
under similar conditions; the fifth to have been British resident at the
court of some native prince; the sixth to have served at least five
years with the Queen’s troops in India; the seventh, to have served the
Company ten years in the Bengal army; and the eighth and ninth,
similarly in the Madras and Bombay armies—The nine nominated members to
be named in the bill itself, so as to give them parliamentary as well as
royal sanction—The remaining eight members of the council to be chosen
by popular election—Four of such elected members to be chosen from among
persons who had served the Crown or the Company at least ten years in
any branch of the Indian service, or had resided fifteen years in India;
and to be chosen by persons who had been ten years in the service of the
Crown or the Company, or possessed £1000 of India stock, or possessed
£2000 of capital in any Indian railway or joint-stock public works—The
other five of such elected members to be chosen from among persons who,
for at least ten years, had been engaged in the commerce of India, or in
the export of manufactured articles thither; and to be chosen by the
parliamentary constituencies of five large centres of commerce and
manufactures in the United Kingdom, namely, London, Liverpool,
Manchester, Glasgow, and Belfast—the Secretary of State for India to
have the power of dividing the council, thus constituted, into
committees, and to exercise a general supervision over these
committees—The secretary alone, or six councillors in union, to have
power to summon a meeting of the council—The councillors not to be
eligible to sit in parliament, but to have each £1000 per annum for
their services—The patronage heretofore exercised by the East India
Company to be now exercised by the Council—The army of India not to be
directly affected by the bill—The revenues of India to bear the expenses
of the government of India—A royal commission to be sent to India, to
investigate all the facts and conditions of Indian finance.
It will be seen that this remarkable scheme was based on the idea of
conciliating as many different interests as possible, in England and in
India. Mr Disraeli, in the course of his speech, mentioned the names of
the nine gentlemen whom it was proposed to nominate to the council on
the part of the crown; and in relation to the vast powers of the
secretary and council, he said: ‘To establish a British minister with
unrestricted authority, subject to the moral control of a body of men
who by their special knowledge, their independence, their experience,
their distinction, and their public merit, are, nevertheless, invested
with an authority which can control even a despotic minister, and which
no mere act of parliament can confer upon them, is, I admit, no ordinary
difficulty to encounter; and to devise the means by which it may be
accomplished is a task which only with the indulgence of this House and
with the assistance of parliament we can hope to perform.’
Criticisms were much more numerous and contradictory on this than on
Lord Palmerston’s bill. It was no longer a contest of Conservatives
against Whigs. The new bill was examined on its merits. The friends of
the East India Company, expecting something favourable from the change
of government, were much disappointed; they analysed the clauses of the
bill, but found not what they sought. True, the old Indian interests
were to be represented in the new council; but just one-half of the
members were to be nominees of the crown, and five others were to be
elected by popular constituencies over which the Company possessed no
control. Even those who cared little whether the Company lived or died,
provided India were well governed, differed among themselves in opinion
whether the popular element would be usefully introduced in the manner
proposed. The objections were more extensively urged out of parliament
than within; for after the first reading of the bill, on the 26th of
March, the further consideration of it was postponed to the 19th of
April.
The Conservatives had reproved the Whigs for discourtesy to the East
India Company, in not giving due notice of the provisions of ‘Bill No.
1;’ but now equal discourtesy (if discourtesy it were) was shewn by the
first-named party in reference to ‘Bill No. 2.’ On the 24th of March, at
a quarterly meeting of the Company, and only two days before Mr Disraeli
introduced his measure—or rather the Ellenborough measure—into the House
of Commons, the chairman of the Court of Directors was asked whether he
knew aught concerning the provisions of a bill so nearly touching the
interests of the Company; to which he replied: ‘I know no more about the
forthcoming bill than I knew of the last before its introduction into
parliament.’ On the 7th of April, however, at a special Court of
Proprietors, the directors presented copies of the bills, ‘No. 1’ and
‘No. 2;’ and at the same time presented a Report against both. In the
debate, on the 7th and 13th, arising out of the presentation of the
Report, there was a pretty general opinion among the proprietors, that
if Lord Palmerston’s India Bill was bad, Mr Disraeli’s was not one whit
better, in reference to the interests of the Company; and there was a
final vote for the following resolution: ‘That this court concur in the
opinion of the Court of Directors, that neither of the bills now before
parliament is calculated to secure good government to India; and they
accordingly authorise and request the Court of Directors to take such
measures as may appear to them desirable for resisting the passing of
either bill through parliament, and for introducing into any bill for
altering the constitution of the government of India such conditions as
may promise a system of administration calculated to promote the
interests of the people of India, and to prove conducive to the general
welfare.’ One of the proprietors having expressed an opinion that the
directors ought to prepare a third bill, more just than either of the
other two, the chairman very fairly pointed out that it was not the
Company’s duty so to do.
Under somewhat unfavourable circumstances did the Derby ministry renew
the consideration of Indian affairs after the Easter recess. Parliament,
it is true, had not yet had time or opportunity to criticise ‘Bill No.
2;’ but that measure had been very unfavourably received both by the
East India Company and by the newspaper press; and it became generally
known that the ministers would gladly accept any decent excuse for
abandoning or at least modifying the bill. This excuse was furnished to
them by Lord John Russell. On the 12th of April, when the Commons
resumed their sittings after the Easter vacation, his lordship expressed
an opinion that the bill was ill calculated to insure the desired end;
that its discussion was likely to be disfigured by a party contest; and
that it would be better to agree to a set of resolutions in committee,
on which a new bill might be founded. Mr Disraeli accepted this
suggestion with an eagerness which led many members to surmise that a
private compact had been made in the matter. He suggested that Lord John
Russell should draw up the resolutions; but as his lordship declined
this task, Mr Disraeli undertook it on the part of the government.
Hereupon a new phase was presented by the debate. One member expressed
his astonishment that the Chancellor of the Exchequer should be so ready
to hand over the functions of government to the care of a private
member. Another declared he could not see what advantage was to be
gained by a resolution in committee in lieu of a bill in the whole
House. The members of the late Whig government all condemned the plan
suggested by Lord John and accepted by Mr Disraeli; but, pending the
introduction of the proposed resolutions, they would not frustrate the
plan. Mr Mangles, on the part of the East India Company, expressed an
earnest hope that all party feeling would be excluded from the debates
on India. The East India Company, he remarked, could hardly be expected
to acquiesce in a measure for their own extinction; nevertheless, if
such should be proved to be inevitable, the directors would give their
best assistance to the perfecting of any measure which the House might
think proper to adopt. Mr Disraeli finally promised to prepare a set of
resolutions, and to bring them in for discussion on the 26th.
The state, then, to which this intricate discussion had been brought was
this—the ‘Bill No. 1,’ proposed by Lord Palmerston, stood over for a
second reading on the 22d of April; the ‘Bill No. 2,’ proposed by Mr
Disraeli, was placed in abeyance for a time; while the ‘resolutions,’ to
be prepared by Mr Disraeli on the suggestion of Lord John Russell, and
intended as a means of improving ‘Bill No. 2,’ or perhaps of leading to
a ‘Bill No. 3,’ were to be introduced on the 26th of April. It was
pretty generally felt, both within and without the walls of parliament,
that the whole subject was in great confusion, and that the ministers
themselves had no definite notion of the best course to pursue. At the
meeting of the East India Company on the 13th, Mr Mangles, who was a
member of parliament as well as chairman of the Company, said: ‘After
the extraordinary occurrences we have witnessed within the last six
weeks, in which we have seen a minister ousted who was supposed to have
the support of a most commanding majority, and another minister placed
in power without having a majority, or even a considerable minority, he
would be a very bold man who would prophesy what the fate of any new
measure in the House of Commons would be.’
On the 23d of April, Mr Disraeli announced his intention of abandoning
‘Bill No. 2’ altogether, and of postponing the preparation of ‘Bill No.
3’ until the House should have agreed to any ‘resolutions’ bearing on
the subject. Lord Palmerston would not withdraw his ‘Bill No. 1;’ he
simply held it in abeyance for a time, to watch the course of pending
events. On the 26th, Mr Disraeli craved four days more for the
preparation of his resolutions. He made a speech, in which he praised
his own ‘Bill No. 2’ at the expense of his antagonist’s ‘Bill No. 1;’
but, as he had ‘voluntarily stifled his own baby’—to use the
illustration of another speaker—his arguments fell with little force.
The illustration, in truth, was so tempting, that it was long made use
of both in and out of parliament. Lord Palmerston said: ‘The measure,
upon which the right honourable gentleman has pronounced so unbounded a
funeral panegyric, has been murdered by himself. If he thought so well
of the merits of the bill, why did he kill it?’ Mr Gregory, wishing, by
getting rid of the proposed ‘resolutions,’ to postpone all legislation
on the subject until another year, moved as an amendment—‘That at this
moment it is not expedient to pass any resolutions for the future
government of India.’ A general desire prevailed in the House, however,
that some measure or other should be passed into a law, to strengthen
and render more definite the governing authority in India; and the
amendment was withdrawn.
At length, on the 30th of April, the resolutions were proposed. They
departed very widely from ‘Bill No. 2.’ The members of the council,
instead of being definitely eighteen in number, were to be ‘not less
than twelve and not more than eighteen.’ The scheme for representing
classes, services, presidencies, and commercial communities in the
council was given up; as was likewise the election of a portion of the
members by parliamentary constituencies. As the whole of the fourteen
resolutions, if agreed to, would require a separate agreement for each,
and as every member would be allowed to speak on every resolution if he
so chose, there were the materials presented for a very lengthened
debate. There was a preliminary discussion, moreover, on a motion
intended to extinguish the resolutions altogether. Lord Harry Vane
moved—‘That the change of circumstances since the first proposal by her
Majesty’s late advisers, to transfer the government of India from the
East India Company to the Crown, renders it inexpedient to proceed
further with legislation on the subject during the present session.’
This proposal, however, was negatived by 447 to 57.
It would scarcely be possible, and scarcely worth while if possible, to
follow all the intricacies of the debate on the ‘resolutions.’ Every
part of the India question was opened again and again; every speaker
considered himself at liberty to wander from principles to details, and
back again; and hence the amount of speaking was enormous. Should there
be a secretary of state for India, or only a president of a council?
Should there be a council at all, or only a secretary with his
subordinates, as in the home, foreign, colonial, and war departments? If
a council, should it be wholly nominated, wholly elective, or part of
each? Who should nominate, and who elect, and under what conditions?
Should the secretary or president possess any power without his council,
and how much? Should the East India Company, or not, be represented in
the new council? By whom should the enormous patronage of the Court of
Directors be hereafter exercised? What would become of the ‘vested
rights’ of the Company, such as the receipt of dividends on the East
India stock? In what relation would the governor-general of India stand
to the new council? Would the local governments of the three
presidencies be interfered with? Who would organise and support the
Indian army? What would be done in relation to missionaries, idolatrous
practices, caste, education, public works, manufactures, commerce, &c.,
in India?—These were some of the questions which were discussed, not
once merely, but over and over again. Owing to the strange ministerial
changes, the independent members in the House had had but few
opportunities of fully expressing their sentiments; they did so now, at
ample length. Many long nights of debate were spent over the
resolutions; many amendments proposed; many alterations assented to by
the ministers. It occupied three evenings—April 30, May 3, and May 7—to
settle the first three resolutions; or rather, to agree to the first, to
modify the second, and to withdraw the third. At this period occurred
the exciting episode concerning the Oude proclamation, the censure of
Viscount Canning, and the resignation of the Earl of Ellenborough.[192]
As there was now no president of the Board of Control, the India
resolutions could not conveniently be proceeded with; and therefore
everything remained for a time at a dead-lock. Soon afterwards Lord
Stanley, son of the Earl of Derby, accepted the seals of the office
vacated by the Earl of Ellenborough. He had every claim to the
indulgence of the House, in the difficulty of his new position; and this
indulgence was willingly shewn to him; he was permitted to choose his
own time, after the ceremony of his re-election, to bring the great
question of India once again before the Commons House, in the hope of
arriving at some practicable solution. For a period of one full month
did the further consideration of the resolutions remain in abeyance,
while these party tactics and ministerial changes were engaging public
attention.
At length, on the 7th of June, when the subject was resumed, and when
Lord Stanley took the lead on Indian affairs in the House of Commons, it
began to be apparent that the resolutions were less valued by the
government than they had before been. The debate concerning them,
however, continued. When the time came for deciding how many members
should compose the new Council of India, Mr Gladstone reopened the whole
question by moving as an amendment, ‘That, regard being had to the
position of affairs in India, it is expedient to constitute the Court of
Directors of the East India Company, by an act of the present session,
to be a council for administering the government of India in the name of
her Majesty, under the superintendence of such responsible minister,
until the end of the next session of parliament.’ Mr Gladstone proposed
this amendment under a belief that it was not practicable, during the
existing session of parliament, to perfect a scheme of government for
India that would be worthy of the nation. The problem to be solved was
one of the most formidable ever presented to any nation or any
legislature in the history of the world, and the evils of delay would be
insignificant in comparison with those of crude and hasty legislation.
His suggestion, he contended, would not be inconsistent with the
appointment of a new council in the following year, if it should be
deemed desirable to make such appointment. Lord Stanley opposed this
amendment—on the grounds that it had all the evils of a temporary and
provisional measure; that the directors, as a council merely for one
year, would be placed in an inconvenient position; that having been told
that they were doomed, and that nothing could save them as a permanent
body, they would slacken their zeal and energy, and impair the
confidence of the public; that the much-condemned delays would still
continue; and that the public service would derive no advantage. The
friends of the East India Company supported this amendment; but it was
rejected by 265 against 116. Mr Roebuck then made an attempt to
extinguish the council both in theory and in fact. He contended that a
Secretary of State, alone responsible for all his acts, relying upon his
own mind for guidance and counsel, and having a more direct interest in
doing right, was morally and mentally the best governor for India; he
feared that a council would render the governing body practically
irresponsible to the nation. Lord Stanley, on the other hand, insisted
that it was quite impossible for any minister to act efficiently in such
a difficult office without the aid of advisers possessing special
information on Indian affairs; and as the House generally concurred in
this view, Mr Roebuck’s amendment was negatived without a division. Two
evenings, June 7th and 11th, were spent in discussing two resolutions.
On the 14th the House was engaged many hours in considering whether the
council should be elective, or nominated, or both; great diversity of
opinion prevailed; and the speakers, tempted by the peculiarity of the
subject, wandered very widely beyond the limits of the immediate
question. Lord John Russell thought that the members of the council
ought to be wholly appointed by the Crown, on the responsibility of the
minister; Sir James Graham thought that the Court of Directors ought to
be _ex officio_ members of the council, to insure practical knowledge on
Indian affairs; but Lord Stanley contended that the advantages of two
systems would be combined if one half of the council were nominated by
the Crown, and the other half elected by a constituency of seven or
eight thousand persons interested in or connected with Indian affairs;
and the House, agreeing with this view, voted a resolution accordingly.
Midsummer was approaching. The House of Lords had not yet had an
opportunity of discussing the Indian question either in principle or in
detail; and it began now to be strongly felt that, as the resolutions
really did not bind the Commons to any particular clauses in the
forthcoming bill, their value was doubtful. Accordingly, on the 17th of
June, after a long discussion on desultory topics, Lord Stanley
proposed, amid some laughter in the House, to withdraw all the remaining
resolutions—a proposition that was assented to with great alacrity,
shewing that the legislators were by no means satisfied with the wisdom
of their past proceedings.
Thus was completed the third stage in this curious legislative
achievement. Lord Palmerston’s ‘India Bill No. 1’ was laid aside,
because he was expelled from office; Mr Disraeli’s ‘India Bill No. 2’
was abandoned, because it was ridiculed on all sides; and now the
‘resolutions’ were given up when half-finished, because they were found
to be inoperative and non-binding. Some of the supporters of the East
India Company claimed, and not illogically, a little more respect for
the Company than had lately been given; the difficulty of framing a new
government for India shewed, by implication, that the old _régime_ was
not so bad as had been customarily asserted.
The ‘India Bill No. 3’ was brought in by Lord Stanley on the
evening (June 17th) which witnessed the withdrawal of the
resolutions. The bill comprised sixty-six clauses—of the more
important of which a brief outline may be given here, to furnish
means of comparison with bills ‘No. 1’ and ‘No. 2:’ The government
of India to revert from the Company to the Crown—A Secretary of
State to exercise all the powers over Indian affairs hitherto
exercised by the Court of Directors, the Secret Committee, and the
Board of Control—The Crown to determine whether to give these
powers to one of the four existing secretaries of state, or to
appoint a fifth—The Secretary to be assisted by a ‘Council of
India,’ to consist of fifteen persons—The Court of Directors to
elect seven of those members from among its own body, or from
among persons who had at any time been directors; the remaining
eight to be nominated by the Queen—Vacancies in the council to be
filled up alternately by the Crown and by the council assembled
for that purpose—A majority of all the members to be chosen from
among persons who had served or resided at least ten years in
India—Every councillor to be irremovable during good behaviour, to
be prohibited from sitting in the House of Commons, to receive
twelve hundred pounds a year as salary, to be allowed to resign
when he pleases, and to be entitled to a retiring pension varying
in amount according to the length of service—Compensation to be
given to such secretaries or clerks of the Company as do not
become officers of the new department—The Secretary of State to be
president of the ‘Council of India,’ to divide the council into
committees for the dispatch of business, and to appoint any member
as vice-president—Council meetings to be called by the Secretary,
or by any five members; and five to be a quorum—Questions to be
decided in the council by a majority, but the Secretary to have a
_veto_ even over the majority—The Secretary may send and receive
‘secret’ dispatches, without consulting his council at all—Most of
the appointments in India to be made as heretofore—Patronage of
cadetships to be exercised partly by the council, but principally
by the Secretary of State, and to be given in a certain ratio to
sons of persons who have filled military or civil offices in
India—The property, credits, debits, and liabilities of the
Company, except India stock and its dividends, to be transferred
from the Company to the Crown; and the council to act as trustees
in these matters—The council to present annual accounts to
parliament of Indian finance and all matters relating thereto—The
council to guarantee the legalised dividend on India stock, out of
the revenues of India.
The ‘Bill No. 3,’ of which the above is a slight programme, came on for
second reading on the 24th of June. Lord Stanley—who, as admitted by
opponents as well as supporters, entered with great earnestness upon the
duties of his office—stated that he had endeavoured to avail himself of
all the opinions expressed during the various debates, to prepare a
measure that should meet the views of a majority of the House. In the
discussion that ensued, Mr Bright wandered into subjects that could not
possibly be treated in the bill; he reopened the whole topic of Indian
misgovernment—disapproved of governor-generals—condemned
annexations—suggested new presidencies and new tribunals—and told the
Commons how he would govern India if he were minister. The speech was
vigorous, but inapplicable to the subject-matter in hand. The bill was
read a second time without a division.
The East India Company were not silent at this critical period in their
history. A meeting of proprietors on the 23d was made special for the
consideration of ‘Bill No. 3,’ which was to be read a second time in the
Commons on the following day; and at this meeting there was a general
expression of disappointment that the Company had been treated as such a
nullity. The only source of consolation was in the fact that seven
members of the new council were to be chosen by the Court of Directors,
from persons who then belonged or had formerly belonged to that court.
The opinions of the Company were embodied in a letter addressed to Lord
Stanley by the chairman and deputy-chairman, and presented to the House
of Commons.
On the 25th, the House went into committee on the bill. Lord Palmerston
proposed two amendments—that the members should be twelve in number
instead of fifteen, and that all should be appointed by the Crown; but
both amendments were rejected by large majorities as being inconsistent
with the recent expression of opinion. At a further sitting on the 1st
of July, the ministers shewed they had obtained a considerable hold on
the House; for they succeeded in obtaining the rejection of amendments
proposed by Lord Palmerston, Mr Gladstone, Sir James Graham, and Mr
Vernon Smith. Lord Stanley, however, proposed many amendments himself on
the part of the government; and these amendments were accepted in so
friendly a spirit, that a large number of clauses were got through by
the end of a long sitting on the 2d of July. One of the most interesting
of the questions discussed bore relation to the Secret Committee of the
past, and the proposed exercise of similar powers by the Secretary of
State. Lord John Russell and Mr Mangles advocated the abolition of those
powers altogether; while Sir G. C. Lewis recommended great caution in
their exercise, if used. Mr Mangles, the late chairman of the Court of
Directors, stated that the powers of the Secret Committee had been much
more extensive than was generally supposed. ‘During many years after the
conquest of Sinde, the whole government of that province was conducted
by the Secret Committee, and the Court of Directors knew nothing about
it. He believed that much mischief had arisen from the Secret Committee
undertaking to transact business with which it had no right to
interfere. The real fact was, that nine-tenths of that which came before
the Secret Committee might with safety be communicated to the whole
world. He wished, therefore, that there should be no Secret Committee in
future. It was a mere delusion and snare. The Court of Directors had
shewn themselves to be as competent to keep a secret, when there was
one, as the cabinet of her Majesty; and he had no reason to think
otherwise of the proposed Indian Council.’ The ministers, however,
received the support of Lord Palmerston in this matter; and the
continuance of the secret powers was sanctioned, although by a small
majority only. On the 5th and 6th, the remaining clauses and amendments
were gone through. Mr Gladstone proposed a clause enacting, ‘That,
except for repelling actual invasion, or under sudden or urgent
necessity, her Majesty’s forces in India shall not be employed in any
military operation beyond the external frontier of her Indian
possessions, without the consent of parliament.’ Lord Palmerston opposed
this clause; but Lord Stanley assented to it as a wholesome declaration
of parliamentary power; and it was agreed to.
At length, on the 8th of July—five months after ‘Bill No. 1’ had been
introduced by Lord Palmerston, and three or four months after the
introduction of ‘Bill No. 2’ by Mr Disraeli—‘Bill No. 3’ was passed by
the House of Commons, after a vehement denunciation by Mr Roebuck, who
predicted great disaster from the organisation of the ‘Council of
India.’ Lord Palmerston’s bill was withdrawn on the next day: it never
came on for a second reading.
The House of Lords justly complained of the small amount of time left to
them for the discussion of the bill; but there was now no help for it,
short of abandoning the measure for the session; and therefore they
entered at once on the discussion. On the 9th, the bill was brought in
and read a first time. Between that time and the second reading, the
East India Company made one more attempt to oppose the measure. They
agreed to a petition for presentation to the House of Lords. It was in
part a petition, in part a protest. The propriety of adopting the
petition was urged by such considerations as these: ‘If we do not
protest, every wrong that may be done for years to come will be laid at
our doors; but with this protest upon record, history will do us the
justice of stating that we have been deprived of our power without
inquiry.’ The Court of Proprietors also discussed whether counsel should
be employed to represent the Company before the House of Lords. Many of
the directors assented to this—but only so far as concerned technical
and legal points; for, they urged, it would be very undignified to
employ any hired counsel to argue the moral and political question, or
to defend the conduct of the Company and the rights of India. It
remained yet, however, an unsettled point whether counsel would be
permitted to appear at all.
On the 13th of July, after a feeble attempt to attach importance to the
Company’s petition and protest, the bill was read a second time in the
Lords. The most remarkable speech made on this occasion was that of the
Earl of Ellenborough, Lord Stanley’s predecessor at the Board of
Control. He declared that, whether in or out of office, he could not
approve of the measure, the parentage of which he gave to the House of
Commons rather than to the government. He disapproved of the abandonment
of popular election in the proposed council; disapproved of the strong
leaven of ‘Leadenhall Street’ in its composition; disapproved of
competitive examinations for the Indian artillery and engineers; and
expressed a general belief that the scheme would not work well. When the
bill went into committee on the 16th, the earl proposed that the members
of the council should be appointed for five years only, instead of for
life; but this amendment was negatived without a division. Lord
Broughton, who, as Sir John Cam Hobhouse, had once been president of the
India Board, opposed the whole theory of a council in the strongest
terms. He described in anticipation the inconveniences he believed would
flow from it. ‘The council would only embarrass the minister with
useless suggestions and minutes on the most trifling questions; and, if
they were rejected, the minority would always be able to furnish weapons
of attack against the Secretary in the House of Commons. The minister
would gain no advice or knowledge from the council he could not obtain
from others without the embarrassment of having official councillors.’
The Earl of Derby contested these assertions simply by denying their
truth; and they had no effect on the decision of the House. All the
clauses were examined during three sittings, on the 16th, 19th, and 20th
of the month, and were adopted with a few amendments. During the
discussions, the Earl of Derby appeared as the friend of the ‘middle
classes.’ The Earl of Ellenborough having repeated his objection to
competitive examination for the engineers and artillery of the Indian
army, on the ground that it would lower the ‘gentlemanly’ standard of
those services, the premier replied that, ‘He was not insensible to the
advantages of birth and station: but he could not join with his noble
friend in saying that because a person happened to be the son of a
tailor, a grocer, or a cheesemonger, provided his mental qualifications
were equal to those of his competitors, he was to be excluded from
honourable competition for an appointment in the public service.’
On the 23d of July the India Bill was read a third time and passed by
the House of Lords, with only a few observations bearing collaterally on
Indian affairs. The Archbishop of Canterbury and some of the bishops
made an appeal for the more direct encouragement of Christianity in
India; but the Earl of Derby made a very cautious response. ‘Due
protection ought to be given to the professors of all religions in
India, and nothing should be done to discourage the efforts of Christian
missionaries. On the other hand, he deemed it essential to the
interests, the peace, the well-being of England, if not also to the very
existence of her power in India, that the government should carefully
abstain from doing anything except to give indiscriminate and impartial
protection to all sects and all creeds; and that nothing could be more
inconvenient or more dangerous on the part of the state than any open or
active assistance to any attempt to convert the native population from
their own religions, however false or superstitious.’ The Earls of
Shaftesbury and Ellenborough joined in deploring the vindictive feeling
which had sprung up between the Europeans and natives in India, and
which, if continued, would neutralise all attempts at improvement. The
Anglo-Indian press was severely reproved for the share it had taken in
originating or fostering this feeling.
The Lords having introduced a few amendments in the India Bill, these
amendments required the sanction of the Commons before they could be
adopted. One of these affected the secret service of the new council;
another, the mode of appointing the higher officials in India; a third,
the principle of competitive examinations; a fourth, the application of
Indian revenues; and so on. The Commons rejected some of these
amendments, and accepted the rest, on the 27th. On the 29th the Lords
met to consider whether they would abandon the amendments objected to by
the Commons. This they agreed to do except in one instance—relating to
competitive examinations for the Indian artillery and engineers; they
still thought that commissions in these two services should be given
only to ‘gentlemen,’ in the conventional sense of the term. The
government, rather than run into collision with the Lords, recommended
the Commons to assent to the slight amendment which had been made; and
this was agreed to—but not without many pungent remarks on the course
which the Upper House had thought proper to pursue. Sir James Graham
adverted to a supercilious allusion by the Earl of Ellenborough to the
‘John Gilpin class,’ and added—‘Where is hereditary wisdom found? In
what consists the justice of the tenet that India must henceforward be
governed by gentlemen, to the exclusion of the middle classes—a
gentleman being defined to be something between a peer and those who buy
and sell. Is this, I would ask, the only argument that can be advanced
against the system of competitive examinations? Who, let me ask,
founded, who won our Indian empire?—Those who bought and sold. Who
extended it?—Those who bought and sold. Who now transfer that empire to
the Crown?—Those who bought and sold; a company of merchants—merchants,
forsooth, whose sons are now not thought worthy to have even inferior
offices in India committed to their hands. But are not the sons of those
who buy and sell entitled to the appellation of gentlemen? Definitions
are dangerous; but I should, nevertheless, like to know what it is that
constitutes a gentleman. Why, sir, it appears to me that if a man be
imbued with strong Christian principles, if he have received an
enlightened and liberal education, if he be virtuous and honourable—it
appears to me that such a man as that is entitled to the appellation.
And who will tell me that among the sons of those who buy and sell may
not be found men possessing literary attainments and a refinement of
mind which place them in a position to bear comparison with the highest
born gentlemen in India? Who, let me ask, were the conquerors of the
country? From what class have they sprung? Who was Clive?—The son of a
yeoman. Who was Munro?—The son of a Glasgow merchant. Who was
Malcolm?—The son of a sheep-farmer upon the Scotch border. These, sir,
are the men who have won for us our Indian empire; and I entertain no
fear that the sons of those who buy and sell, and who enter the Indian
service by means of this principle of open competition, will fail to
maintain a high position in our army, or that they will do anything to
dishonour the English name.’
When the India Bill finally passed the Lords, the Earl of Albemarle
recorded a protest against it—on the grounds that the home government
established by it would be inefficient and unconstitutional; that the
council would be too numerous; that it would be nearly half composed of
the very directors who were supposed to be under condemnation; that
those directors, by self-election to the council, would establish a
vicious principle; that the members of the council would be
irresponsible for the use of the great amount of patronage held by them;
that the change in the mode of government was too slight to insure those
reforms which India so much needed; that it was pernicious, and contrary
to parliamentary precedent, to allow the members of the council to hold
other offices, or to engage in commercial pursuits; that the practical
effect of the council would be merely to thwart the Secretary of State
for India, or else to screen him from censure; and that efficient and
experienced under-secretaries would be far better than any council.
The bill received the royal assent, and became an act of parliament, on
the 2d of August, under the title of ‘An Act for the Better Government
of India;’ 21st and 22d of Victoria, cap. 106. A brief and intelligible
abstract of all the provisions of this important statute will be found
in the Appendix.
One clause in the new act provided that the Court of Directors should
elect seven members to the new council of India, either out of the
existing court, or from persons who had formerly been directors of the
Company. On the 7th of August they met, and chose the following seven of
their own number—Sir James Weir Hogg, Mr Charles Mills, Captain John
Shepherd, Mr Elliot Macnaghten, Mr Ross Donelly Mangles, Captain William
Joseph Eastwick, and Mr Henry Thoby Prinsep. Many of the public journals
severely condemned this selection, as having been dictated by the merest
selfish retention of power in the directors’ own hands; but on the other
side, it was urged that these seven gentlemen possessed a large amount
of practical knowledge on Indian affairs; and, moreover, that the
Company, owing the legislature no thanks for recent proceedings, were
not bound to be disinterested in the matter.
A remarkable meeting was held by the East India Company on the 11th of
August, to consider the state of affairs produced by the new act. The
directors and proprietors met as if no one clearly knew what to think on
the matter. They asked—What _is_ the East India Company now? What does
it possess? What can it do, or what has it got to do? Has it any further
interest in the affairs of India? Is there now any use in a Court of
Directors, or a Court of Proprietors, further than to distribute the
dividends on India stock handed over by the new Council of India out of
Indian revenues? Is the regular payment of that dividend well secured?
Are the _trading_ powers of the Company abolished; and if not, is there
any profitable trade that can be entered upon? Are they to lose their
house in Leadenhall Street, their museum, their library, their archives;
and if so, why? If the Company at any time become involved in
law-proceedings, will the costs come out of the dividends, or out of
what other fund? The answers to these various questions were so very
conflicting, and the state of doubt among all the proprietors so
evident, that it was agreed—‘That a committee of proprietors be
appointed to act in concert with the chairman and deputy-chairman of the
Court of Directors, for the purpose of obtaining counsel’s opinion as to
the present legal position of the Company under previous acts of
parliament, as well as the present act—more especially as to the
parliamentary guarantee of the Company’s stock, and the position of the
Company’s creditors, Indian as well as European.’
The 1st of September 1858 was a day to be recorded in English annals—it
witnessed the death of the once mighty East India Company as a governing
body. ‘On this day,’ said one of the able London journals, ‘the Court of
Directors of the East India Company holds its last solemn assembly.
To-morrow, before the shops and the counting-houses of our great
metropolis shall have received their accustomed inmates, the greatest
corporate body the world has ever seen will have shrivelled into an
association of receivers of dividends. The great house in Leadenhall
Street will stand as it has stood for long years, and well-nigh the same
business will be done by well-nigh the same persons; but the government
of the East India Company will have passed into a tradition. Thousands
and tens of thousands, including many of the greatest and wisest in the
land, intent upon pleasure at this pleasure-seeking period of the year,
will, in all human probability, not give the great change a thought. But
the first and second days of September 1858, which witness the
extinction of the old and the inauguration of the new systems of Indian
government, constitute an epoch in our national history—nay, in the
world’s history, second in importance to few in the universal annals of
mankind. On this day the East India Company, which hitherto, through
varied changes and gradations, has directed the relations of Great
Britain with the vast continent of India, issues its last instructions
to its servants in the east. On this day the last dispatches written by
the authoritative “we” to our governor-general, or governors in council,
will be signed by their “affectionate friends.” To-morrow the _egomet_
of her Majesty’s Secretary of State will be supreme in the official
correspondence of the Indian bureau. It may or may not be for the good
of India, it may or may not be for the good of England, that the
government of the East India Company should on this day cease to exist;
but we confess we do not envy the feelings of the man who can
contemplate without emotion this great and pregnant political change.’
There was a disposition, on this last day of the Company’s power, to
look at the bright rather than the dark side of its character. ‘It has
the great privilege of transferring to the service of her Majesty such a
body of civil and military officers as the world has never seen before.
A government cannot be base, cannot be feeble, cannot be wanting in
wisdom, that has reared two such services as the civil and military
services of the East India Company. To those services the Company has
always been just, has always been generous. In those services lowly
merit has never been neglected. The best men have risen to the highest
place. They may have come from obscure farmhouses or dingy places of
business; they may have been roughly nurtured and rudely schooled; they
may have landed in the country without sixpence or a single letter of
recommendation in their trunks; but if they have had the right stuff in
them, they have made their way to eminence, and have distanced men of
the highest connections and most flattering antecedents.... Let her
Majesty appreciate the gift—let her take the vast country and the
teeming millions of India under her direct control; but let her not
forget the great corporation from which she has received them, nor the
lessons to be learned from its success.’
[Illustration:
Old East India House, Leadenhall Street.
]
The last special General Court of the Company was held, as we have said,
on the 1st of September. The immediate purpose was a generous one: the
granting of a pension to the distinguished ruler of the Punjaub, Sir
John Lawrence; and this was followed by an act at once dignified and
graceful. It was an earnest tender of thanks, on the part of the East
India Company generally, to its servants of every rank and capacity, at
home and in India, for their zealous and faithful performance of duties;
an assurance to the natives of India that they would find in Queen
Victoria ‘a most gracious mistress;’ an expression of hearty belief that
the home-establishment, if employed by the Crown, would serve the Crown
well as it had served the Company; a declaration of just pride in the
sterling civilians and noble soldiers at that moment serving unweariedly
in India; and an earnest hope and prayer ‘That it may please Almighty
God to bless the Queen’s Indian reign by the speedy restoration of
peace, security, and order; and so to prosper her Majesty’s efforts for
the welfare of her East Indian subjects that the millions who will
henceforth be placed under her Majesty’s direct as well as sovereign
dominion, constantly advancing in all that makes men and nations great,
flourishing, and happy, may reward her Majesty’s cares in their behalf
by their faithful and firm attachment to her Majesty’s person and
government.’
The East India House in Leadenhall Street was chosen by Lord Stanley as
the office of the new Council for India, on account of its internal
resources for the management of public business. During more than two
centuries and a half, the city of London had contained the head-quarters
of those who managed Anglo-Indian affairs. The first meeting of London
merchants in 1599, on the subject of East India trade, was held at
Founders’ Hall. The early business of the Company, when formed, was
transacted partly at the residences of the directors, partly in the
halls of various incorporated companies. In 1621 the Company occupied
Crosby Hall for this purpose. In 1638 a removal was made to Leadenhall
Street, to the house of Sir Christopher Clitheroe, at that time governor
of the Company. In 1648 the Company took the house of Lord Craven,
adjoining Clitheroe’s, and on the site of the present India House. In
1726 the picturesque old front of this mansion was taken down, and
replaced by the one represented in the above cut. Finally, in 1796, the
present India House was built,[193] and remained the head-quarters of
the Company. Acquiring skill by gradual experience, the Company had
rendered this one of the most perfectly organised establishments that
ever existed. Ranged in racks and shelves, in chambers, corridors, and
cellars, were the records of the Company’s administration; prepared by
governor-generals, judges, magistrates, collectors, paymasters,
directors, secretaries, and other officials abroad and at home. These
documents, tabulated and indexed with the greatest nicety, related to
the whole affairs of the Company, small as well as great, and extended
back to the earliest period of the Company’s history. Declarations of
war, treaties of peace, depositions of native princes, dispatches of
governor-generals, proceedings of trials, appeals of natives, revenue
assessments, army disbursements—all were fully recorded in some mode or
other. The written documents relating to a hundred and fifty-five years
of the Company’s history, from 1704 to 1858, filled no less than a
hundred and sixty thousand huge folio volumes. These documents were so
thoroughly indexed and registered that any one could be found by a very
brief search. It was mentioned with pride by the staff of the India
House, that when Lord Stanley, in his capacity as Secretary of State for
India, made his first official visit to Leadenhall Street, he was
invited to test the efficiency of this registration department, by
calling for any particular dispatch, or for any document bearing upon
any act or policy of the Court of Directors, throughout a period of a
century and a half; a promise was given that any one of these documents
should be forthcoming in five minutes. His lordship thereupon asked for
a report on the subject of some occurrence which took place under his
own observation while on a tour in India. The document was speedily
produced, and was found to contain all the details of the transaction
minutely described.
After the Court of Directors had elected seven members to the new
council, the government nominated the other eight. The greatest name on
the list was Sir John Laird Muir Lawrence, who was expected to return to
England, and for whom a place at the council-board was kept vacant. The
other seven nominated members were Sir Henry Conyngham Montgomery, Sir
Frederick Currie, Major-general Sir Robert John Hussey Vivian, Colonel
Sir Proby Thomas Cautley, Lieutenant-colonel Sir Henry Creswicke
Rawlinson, Mr John Pollard Willoughby, and Mr William Arbuthnot. It was
considered that the fifteen members, in reference to their past
experience of Indian affairs, might fairly represent the following
interests:
Bengal Civil Service, Prinsep, Mangles.
Madras Civil Service, Montgomery.
Bombay Civil Service, Willoughby.
Bengal Army, Cautley.
Madras Army, Vivian.
Bombay Army, Eastwick.
The Punjaub, Lawrence.
Afghan Frontier, Rawlinson.
Native States, Currie.
Indian Law, Hogg, Macnaghten.
Shipping Interests, Shepherd.
Finance, Mills.
Indian Commerce, Arbuthnot.
This classification, however, was not official; it was only useful in
denoting the kind of knowledge likely to be brought to the council by
each member. When, in the early days of September, Lord Stanley presided
at the first meetings of the new council, he grouped the members into
certain committees, for the more convenient dispatch of business. This
grouping was based in part on the previous practice of the East India
Company, and in part on suggested improvements. The committees were
three in number, of five members each—partly nominated, and partly
elected. The functions and composition of the committees were as follow:
FINANCE, HOME, AND PUBLIC WORKS.
Sir Proby Cautley, }
Mr Arbuthnot, } Nominated.
Mr Mills, }
Mr Macnaghten, } Elected.
Captain Shepherd, }
POLITICAL AND MILITARY.
Sir John Lawrence, }
Sir R. Vivian, }
Sir H. Rawlinson, } Nominated.
Mr Willoughby, }
Captain Eastwick, Elected.
REVENUE, JUDICIAL AND LEGISLATIVE.
Sir H. Montgomery, }
Sir F. Currie, } Nominated.
Sir J. W. Hogg, }
Mr Mangles, } Elected.
Mr Prinsep, }
Lord Stanley appointed Sir G. R. Clerk and Mr Henry Baillie to be
under-secretaries of state for India; and Mr James Cosmo Melvill, late
deputy-secretary to the East India Company, to be assistant
under-secretary. Mr John Stuart Mill, one of the most distinguished of
the Company’s servants in England, was earnestly solicited by Lord
Stanley to assist the new government with his services; but he declined
on account of impaired health. With a few exceptions, the valued and
experienced servants of the Company became servants of the new council,
as secretaries, clerks, examiners, auditors, record-keepers, &c.; for
the rest, arrangements were to be gradually made in the form of
compensations, pensions, or retiring allowances.
One of the first proceedings under the new _régime_ was the appointment
of a commission to investigate the complicated relations of the Indian
army. The heads of inquiry on which the commission was to enter included
almost everything that could bear upon the organisation and efficiency
of the military force in the east, under a system where the anomalous
distinction between ‘Company’s’ troops and ‘Queen’s’ troops would no
longer be in force. Such an inquiry would necessarily extend over a
period of many months, and would need to be conducted partly in India
and partly in England.
In closing this narrative of the demise of the powerful East India
Company as a political or governing body, it may be remarked that all
the well-wishers of India felt the change to be a great and signal one,
whether for good or harm. There were not wanting prophets of disaster.
The influence of parliament being so much more readily brought to bear
upon a government department than upon the East India Company, many
persons entertained misgivings concerning the effect of the change upon
the well-being of India. Before any long period could elapse, submarine
cables would probably have been sunk in so many seas, and land-cables
stretched across so many countries, that a message would be flashed from
London to Calcutta in a few hours. Lord Palmerston once jocularly made a
prediction, ten years before the Indian mutiny broke out, to the effect
that the day would come when, if a minister were asked in parliament
whether war had broken out in India, he would reply: ‘Wait a minute;
I’ll just telegraph to the governor-general, and let you know.’ A war in
India did indeed come, before the period for the fulfilment of this
prediction; but the time was assuredly approaching when the
‘lightning-post,’ as the natives of India felicitously call it, would be
in operation. What would be the results? Some of the foreboders of
disaster said: ‘In any great crisis, it is true, which demands prompt
action on the part of the governing country, this rapid
intercommunication will be a source of strength; the resources of
England will be brought to bear upon any part of India four or five
weeks sooner than under existing circumstances. But, on the other hand,
the ordinary work of government, at either end of the wire, will be
greatly complicated and embarrassed by this frequent intercommunication
of ideas. The Council of India will probably not be overanxious to
fetter the movements of the governor-general; nor will the Secretary of
State for India be necessarily prone to send curt sentences of advice or
remonstrance to the distant viceroy; but it is doubtful whether
parliament would suffer the council or the Secretary to exercise this
wise forbearance. There would be a tendency to govern India by the House
of Commons through the medium of the electric telegraph. A sensitive
governor-general would be worried to death in a few months by the
interference of the telegraph with his free action; and an irritable one
might be stung into indignant resignation in a much shorter time.’ All
such fears are groundless. If a message from England were perilous in
its tendency through its ease and quickness of transmission, a message
from India pointing out this perilous tendency would be equally easy and
quick. The electric messenger does its work as rapidly in one direction
as the other. A governor-general, worthy of the name, would take care
not instantly to obey an order which he believed to be dangerous to the
welfare of the country under his charge; the wire would enable him to
converse with the authorities at home in a few hours, or, at any rate, a
few days, and to explain circumstances which would probably lead to a
modification of the order issued. The electric telegraph being one of
the greatest boons ever given by science to mankind, it will be strange
indeed if England does not derive from it—in her government of India, as
in other matters—an amount of benefit that will immeasurably outweigh
any temporary inconveniences.
[Illustration:
Calcutta.—Company’s Troops early in the Nineteenth Century.
]
-----
Footnote 191:
Some of the documents here adverted to will be given _verbatim_;
others in a condensed form.
Footnote 192:
See Chap, xxvii., p. 451.
Footnote 193:
See Engraving, p. 452.
[Illustration:
W. & R. CHAMBERS LONDON & EDINBURGH
]
[Illustration:
ORMUZ—Entrance to the Persian Gulf.
]
SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER.
§ 1. THE PERSIAN EXPEDITION, 1856-7.
§ 2. THE CHINESE AND JAPANESE EXPEDITIONS, 1856-7-8.
§ 3. ENGLISH PROSPECTS IN THE EAST.
Not the least among the many extraordinary circumstances connected with
the Revolt in India was this—that England, at the very time when the
Revolt began, had two Asiatic wars on her hands, one eastward and the
other westward of her Indian empire. True, the Shah of Persia had
consented to a treaty of peace before that date; true, the Emperor of
China had not yet actually received a declaration of war; but it is
equally true that British generals and soldiers were still holding
conquered positions in the one country, and that hostilities had
commenced in the other. We have seen in former chapters, and shall have
occasion to refer to the fact again, that Viscount Canning was most
earnestly desirous, when the troubles in India began, to obtain the aid
of two bodies of British troops—those going to China, and those
returning from Persia. It must ever remain an insoluble problem how the
Revolt would have fared if there had been no Persian and Chinese
expeditions. On the one hand, several additional regiments of the
Company’s army, native as well as European, would have been in India,
instead of in or near Persia. On the other hand, there would not have
been so many disciplined British troops at that time on the way from
England to the east. Whether these two opposing circumstances would have
neutralised each other, can only be vaguely guessed at.
There are other considerations, however, than that which concerns the
presence or absence of British troops, tending to give these two
expeditions a claim to some brief notice in the present work. The
Persian war, if the short series of hostilities deserve that name,
arose, mainly and in the first instance, out of apprehensions for the
future safety of British India on the northwest. The Chinese war arose,
mainly and in the first instance, out of that opium-traffic which had
put so many millions sterling into the coffers of the East India
Company. Other events, it is true, had tended to give a different colour
and an intricate complication to the respective quarrels; but it can
hardly be doubted that the India frontier-question in the one case, and
the India opium-question in the other, were the most powerful
predisposing causes in bringing about the two wars. Two sections of the
present chapter are appropriated to such an outline of these two warlike
expeditions as will shew how far they were induced by India, and how far
they affected India, before and during the Revolt. Any detailed
treatment of the operations would be beyond the scope of the present
volume. The expedition to Japan will claim a little notice as a peaceful
episode in the Chinese narrative.
§ 1. THE PERSIAN EXPEDITION, 1856-7.
Examining a map of Asia, we shall see that the country, called in its
widest extent Afghanistan, is bounded on the east by India, on the west
by Persia, and on the north by the territories of various Turcoman
tribes. Whatever may be the fruitfulness or value of Afghanistan in
other respects, it includes and possesses the only practicable route
from Central Asia to the rich plains of India. So far as Persia,
Bokhara, and Khiva are concerned, England would never for a moment think
of doubting the safety of India; but when, in bygone years, it was known
that Russia was increasing her power in Central Asia, acquiring a great
influence over the Shah of Persia, and sending secret agents to
Afghanistan, a suspicion arose that the eye of the Czar was directed
towards the Indus as well as towards the Bosphorus, to India as well as
to Turkey. Alarmists may have coloured this probability too highly, but
the symptoms were not on that account to be wholly neglected. About
midway between the Punjaub and the Caspian Sea is the city of Herat,
near the meeting-point of Persia, Afghanistan, and Turkistan or
Independent Tatary. It was this city, rather than any other, which
caused the war with Persia. To what state does Herat belong, Persia or
Afghanistan? The answer to this question is of great political
importance; for as Russia has more influence in the first-named state
than in the second, any aggressive schemes of the court of St Petersburg
against India would be favoured by a declaration or admission that Herat
belonged to Persia. In the course of twenty centuries Afghanistan has
been in succession under Persian, Bactrian, Scythian, Hindoo, Persian,
Saracenic, Turcoman, Khorasan, Mongol, Mogul, Persian, and Afghan rule;
until at length, in 1824, three Afghan princes divided the country
between them—one taking the Cabool province, another that of Candahar,
and another that of Herat. There are therefore abundant excuses for
Persians and Turcomans, Afghans and Hindoos, laying claim to this
region, if they think themselves strong enough to enforce their claims.
It is just such a complication as Russia would like to encourage,
supposing her to have any designs against India—just such a
complication, we must in justice add, as would lead England to seize
Afghanistan, if she thought it necessary for the safety of her Indian
empire. When Lord Auckland was governor-general of India, in 1837, he
interfered in Afghan politics, in order to insure the throne of Cabool
to a prince friendly to England and hostile to Russia and Persia; this
interference led to the first Afghan war in 1838, the disastrous
termination of which brought on the second Afghan war of 1842. Since the
year last named, the Cabool and Candahar territories have remained in
the hands of princes who were bound, by treaties of alliance, to
friendly relations with England. Herat, however, further west and more
inaccessible, became a prey to contentions which brought on the Persian
war in 1856.
About the year 1833, disputes arose between Herat and Persia which have
never since been wholly healed. The Shah claimed, if not the ownership
of Herat, at least a tribute that would imply a sort of protective
superiority. This tribute was suddenly withdrawn by Kamran Mirza, Khan
of Herat, in or about the year just named; and certain clauses of a
treaty were at the same time disregarded by him. Thence arose a warlike
tendency in the court of Teheran—encouraged by Count Simonich, Russian
ambassador; and discouraged by Mr Ellis, British ambassador.
Negotiations failing, a Persian army began to march, and the Shah
formally declared Herat to be a province of the Persian empire. The
fortress of Ghorian fell, and after that the city of Herat was invested
and besieged. Russia proposed a treaty in 1838, whereby Herat was to be
given to the Khan of Candahar, on the condition that both of these
Afghan states should acknowledge the suzerainty of Persia: the
fulfilment of the conditions being guaranteed by Russia. This alarmed
Sir John M’Neill, at that time British representative at Teheran; he
suggested to Lord Palmerston that the British should send an army to
support Herat, as a means of preventing the falling of the whole of
Afghanistan into the clutches of Russia. Herat was defending itself
bravely, and there might yet be time to save it. The Shah refusing to
listen to M’Neill’s representations, and various petty matters having
given England an excuse to ‘demand satisfaction,’ an expedition was sent
from India to the Persian Gulf in the summer of 1838. Nominally a
dispute about Herat, it was really a struggle whether England or Russia
should acquire most ascendency over the Shah of Persia. Three years of
negotiation, on various minor grievances and differences, led to a
treaty between England and Persia in 1841. There then followed many
years of peace—not, however, unalloyed by troubles. Persia, urged on
secretly by Russia, continually endeavoured to obtain power in the Herat
territory; while the oriental vanity of the officials led them into many
breaches of courtesy towards English envoys, consuls, and merchants. In
1851, it came to the knowledge of Colonel Sheil, at that time British
minister at the court of Teheran, that Persia was quietly preparing for
another attack on Herat. In spite of Sheil’s remonstrances, the Shah
sent an army against that city in 1852, captured the place, set up a
dependent as subsidiary chief or khan, coined money with his own effigy,
imprisoned and tortured many Afghan chiefs, and formally annexed the
Herat territory as part of the great Persian empire. Colonel Sheil,
failing in all his endeavours to counteract the policy of the Persian
court, sent home to recommend that the British should despatch an
expedition to the Persian Gulf. Under the influence of English pressure,
the Shah signed another treaty in 1853—engaging to give up Herat; not to
attack it again unless an attack came previously from the side of Cabool
or Candahar; and to be content with the merely nominal suzerainty which
existed in the time of the late Khan. The Persians, nevertheless, threw
numberless obstacles in the way of carrying out this treaty; insomuch
that Colonel Sheil was engaged in a perpetual angry correspondence with
them. Faith in treaties is very little understood in Asia; and the court
of Persia is thoroughly Asiatic in this matter. While this wrangle was
going on, another embarrassment arose, out of the employment by the Hon.
A. C. Murray, British representative, of a Persian named Mirza Hashem
Khan, against the Shah’s orders. A seizure of Hashem’s wife by the
authorities was converted by Mr Murray into a national insult, on the
ground that Hashem was now in the service, and under the protection, of
the British crown. Murray struck his flag from the embassy house, until
the matter should be settled. A most undignified quarrel took place
during the winter of 1855, and far into 1856—Mr Murray insisting on the
supreme rights of the British protectorate; and the Persian authorities
disseminating scandalous stories as to the motives which induced him to
protect the lady in question.
The scene was next transferred to Constantinople; where, early in 1856,
the Persian minister discussed the matter with Lord Stratford de
Redcliffe, deploring the rupture, and laying all the blame on Mr Murray
and the other British officials. In a memorandum drawn up at Teheran,
for circulation in the different European courts, M’Neill, Sheil,
Murray—all were stigmatised as mischief-makers, bent on humiliating
Persia, and on disturbing the friendly relations between the Shah and
Queen Victoria. In an autograph document from the Shah himself, Mr
Murray was designated ‘stupid, ignorant, and insane; one who has the
audacity and impudence to insult even kings.’
Before this Murray quarrel was ended, hostilities broke out again at
Herat. There were rival parties in that city; there was an attack
threatened by Dost Mohammed of Cabool; an appeal was made to Persia for
aid, by the Khan who at this time ruled Herat; and Persia marched an
army of 9000 men in that direction. The British government, regarding
this march as an infringement of the treaty of Herat, demanded the
withdrawal of the troops, and threatened warlike proceedings if the
demand were not attended to. The Persians, whether emboldened by secret
encouragement from Russia, or actuated by any other motive, made a
pretence of negotiating, but nevertheless proceeded with their
expedition, captured Ghorian, and laid siege to Herat. Hereupon
instructions were sent out to the governor-general of India, to prepare
a warlike force for service in the Persian Gulf. Before those
instructions could reach Bombay, Ferukh Khan arrived at Constantinople
with full powers from the Shah to settle all points of difference
between Persia and England. Lord Stratford de Redcliffe was empowered to
treat with this plenipotentiary; they made great advances towards the
settlement of the terms of a treaty; but while they were discussing (in
November), news arrived that the Persians had captured the city of Herat
after a long siege. This strange confusion between diplomacy at
Constantinople and war at Herat, stringent orders from London and
warlike alacrity at Bombay, totally disarranged the negotiations of
Ferukh Khan and Lord Stratford de Redcliffe; those ministers could do
nothing further. The governor-general declared war against Persia on the
1st of November, and the Persian plenipotentiary left Constantinople for
Teheran in December.
Thus arose the Persian expedition—out of circumstances so complicated,
that it is difficult to bear in mind the relations of one to another.
The existence of intrigues among contending parties in the state of
Herat; the frequent strife between the Afghans of Cabool and Candahar
and those of Herat; the well-remembered and never-abandoned claims of
Persia upon the last-named state; the open desire of Russia to obtain a
hold over the Persian court; the concealed desire of the same astute
power to approach nearer and nearer to the gates of India; the anxiety
of England to see Afghanistan remain as a barrier between India and the
centre of Asia; the tendency of Persia to disregard those courtesies to
western nations which oriental potentates have never willingly
conceded—all were concurrent causes in bringing about the British
expedition to the Persian Gulf in 1856. The most powerful incentive,
probably, although never acknowledged in diplomatic correspondence, was
the wish to keep Russia as far as possible away from India.
But, it may be asked, what had the East India Company to do with this
war? Why was India put to the expense of providing an armament for
invading Persia? This, in truth, was one of the anomalies connected with
the ‘double government’ of India. It was a war declared by Lord
Palmerston’s cabinet; but as it was founded on considerations relating
to the safety of India, it was treated as an India war, to be conducted
by the authorities in British India.
The providing of the army for the Persian Gulf devolved chiefly upon
Lord Elphinstone, as governor of Bombay. The army was in two divisions,
one of which left Bombay several weeks before the other. Numerous
transport-vessels were chartered, besides many of the large
mail-steamers, to carry troops, guns, and stores to the Persian Gulf.
The commissariat and quarter-masters’ departments had to make great
preparations—a thousand baggage-cattle; fodder for these, for
draught-bullocks, and for cavalry and artillery horses; framework for
fifteen hospitals; hutting for many thousand soldiers, &c. Means of
transport had to be provided for most of these, as it would not be safe
to rely on supplies obtained in an enemy’s country.
Gradually, as the troops, guns, and stores reached the shores of Persia,
the organisation of the force proceeded. It was thus constituted:
FIRST DIVISION.
{ H.M. 64th foot.
1st Infantry Brigade, { 20th Bombay N.I.
{ 2d Bombay Europeans.
2d Infantry Brigade, { 4th Bombay Rifles.
{ 3d Bombay native cavalry.
Cavalry Brigade, { Poonah Horse.
Artillery Brigade, Various detachments.
SECOND DIVISION.
{ H.M. 78th Highlanders.
1st Infantry Brigade, { 26th Bombay N.I.
{ 23d Bombay N.I.
2d Infantry Brigade, { Light Batt. B.N.I.
{ H.M. 14th Dragoons.
Cavalry Brigade, { Jacob’s Sinde Horse.
{ Troop horse-artillery.
Artillery Brigade, { Two field-batteries.
The several divisions and brigades were thus commanded: The first
division was placed under Major-general Stalker; and the four brigades
of which it consisted were commanded by Brigadiers Wilson, Honner, Tapp,
and Trevelyan. The second division was under Brigadier-general
Havelock—who lived to become so famous in connection with the wars of
the Indian mutiny; and the four brigades which it comprised were
commanded by Brigadiers Hamilton, Hale, Steuart, and Hutt.
Brigadier-general Jacob commanded in chief the cavalry of both
divisions; while Major-general Sir James Outram held supreme command of
the whole force.
The first division, as we have said, preceded the second by several
weeks. General Stalker took his departure from Bombay on the 26th of
November, with a fleet of nearly forty vessels under Admiral Sir Henry
Leeke—a few of them war-steamers, but chiefly steam and sailing
transports, carrying 10,000 soldiers, sailors, and men of all grades and
employments. Stalker and Leeke, having brought all the troops and stores
past Ormuz and up the Persian Gulf, captured the island of Karrack as a
military depôt, and then effected a landing at Hallila Bay, about twelve
miles south of Bushire. Although the opposition, from a few hundred
Persian troops, was very insignificant, the landing was nevertheless a
slow process, occupying three days and two nights—owing chiefly to the
absence of any other boats than those belonging to the ships. There
being no draught-cattle landed at that time, the troops were without
tents or baggage of any kind; they therefore carried three days’ rations
in their haversacks. After being thus engaged on the 7th of December and
two following days, Stalker and Leeke advanced towards Bushire—the one
with the troops along the shore, the other with the fleet at easy
distance. Bushire is an important commercial town on the northeast side
of the gulf; whoever commands it, commands much of the trade of Persia.
Stalker found the defences to be far stronger than he had anticipated.
On the 9th he dislodged a body of Persian troops from a strong position
they occupied in the old Dutch fort of Reshire. On the 10th, after a
short bombardment, Bushire itself surrendered—with a promptness which
shewed how few soldierly qualities were possessed by the garrison; for
the place contained sixty-five guns, with a large store of warlike
supplies. The governor of the city, and the commander of the troops,
came out and delivered up their swords. The troops of the garrison,
about two thousand in number, having marched out and delivered up their
arms, were escorted by cavalry to a distance, and then set free. By the
evening of the 11th the tents and cooking-utensils were landed; and an
intrenched camp was formed outside Bushire as a temporary resting-place
for the force—sufficient detachments being told off to hold the city and
fort safely. So entirely had the expedition been kept secret from the
Persians, that when, on the 29th of November, the first vessels of the
fleet hove in sight, the governor of Bushire sent to Mr Consul Jones to
ask what it meant; and he only then learned that our army and navy had
come to capture the city. This plan was adopted, to obtain a ‘material
guarantee’ sufficiently serious to influence the double-dealing Persian
government.
Here the troops remained for several weeks. The second division, and the
real head of the force, had not arrived; and General Stalker was not
expected or authorised to undertake anything further at present. His
camp, about a mile from Bushire, assumed every day a more orderly
appearance; and steady trading transactions were carried on with the
towns-people. The transport ships went to and fro between Bushire and
Bombay, bringing guns and supplies of various kinds.
The political relations between the two countries, meanwhile, remained
as indefinite as before. Mr Murray came from Bagdad to Bushire, to
confer with the military and naval leaders on all necessary matters, and
to negotiate with the Shah’s government if favourable opportunity for so
doing should offer. Herat remained in the hands of its conquerors, the
Persians. Sir John Lawrence, in his capacity as chief authority in the
Punjaub, held more than one interview with Dost Mohammed, Khan of
Cabool, in order to keep that wily leader true to his alliance with
England; and it was considered a fair probability that if Persia did not
yield to England’s demands, a second expedition would be sent from the
Punjaub and Sinde through Afghanistan to Herat.
It was not until the last week in January, 1857, that Sir James Outram
and his staff reached the Persian Gulf; nearly all the infantry had
preceded him, but much of the artillery and cavalry had yet to come. Sir
James sighted Bushire on the 30th; and General Stalker, long encamped
outside the town, made prompt preparations for his reception. Outram was
desirous of instant action. Stalker had been stationary, not because
there was nothing to do, but because his resources were inadequate to
any extensive operations. Shiraz, the most important city in that part
of Persia, lying nearly due east of Bushire, is connected with it by two
roads, one through Ferozabad, and the other through Kisht and Kazeroon;
the Persians were rumoured to have 20,000 men guarding the first of
these two roads, and a smaller number guarding the second. These reports
were afterwards proved to be greatly exaggerated; but Sir James
determined that, at any rate, there should be no longer sojourn at
Bushire than was absolutely needed.
Information having arrived that a large body of Persians was at the foot
of the nearest hills, Outram resolved to dislodge them. The troops were
under Soojah-ool-Moolk, governor of Shiraz, and formed the nucleus of a
larger force intended for the recapture of Bushire. Leaving the town to
be guarded by seamen from the ships, and the camp by about 1500 soldiers
under Colonel Shephard, with the _Euphrates_ so moored that her guns
could command the approaches—Outram started on the 3d of February, with
about 4600 men and 18 guns. He took no tents or extra clothing; but gave
to each soldier a greatcoat, a blanket, and two days’ rations; while the
commissariat provided three more days’ rations. He marched round the
head of Bushire creek to Char-kota, and on the 5th came suddenly upon
the enemy’s camp, which they had precipitately abandoned when they heard
of his approach. This was near the town of Borasjoon, on the road to
Shiraz. On the next two days he secured large stores of ammunition,
carriages, camp-equipage, stores, grain, rice, horses, and
cattle—everything but guns; these had been safely carried off by the
enemy to the difficult pass of Mhak, in the mountains lying between
Bushire and Shiraz; and as Sir James had not made any extensive
commissariat arrangements, he did not deem it prudent to follow them at
that time.
On the evening of the 7th, Outram began his march back to Bushire—after
destroying nearly twenty tons of powder, and vast quantities of shot and
shell; and after securing as booty such flour, grain, rice, and stores
as belonged to the government rather than to the villagers. But now
occurred a most unexpected event. The Persian cavalry, which retreated
while Outram had been advancing, resolved to attack while he was
retreating. They approached soon after midnight; and the British were
soon enveloped in a skirmishing fire with an enemy whom they could not
see. Outram fell from his horse, and Stalker had to take the command for
a time. The enemy having brought four guns within accurate range, the
position was for a time very serious. Stalker was enabled by degrees to
get the regiments into array, so as to grapple with the enemy as soon as
daylight should point out their position. When at length, on the morning
of the 8th, the British saw the Persians, seven or eight thousand
strong, drawn up in order near the walled village of Khoosh-aub, they
dashed at them at once with cavalry and horse-artillery, so irresistibly
that the plain was soon strewed with dead bodies; the enemy fled
panic-stricken in all directions; and if Outram’s cavalry had been more
numerous (he had barely 500 sabres), he could almost have annihilated
the Persian infantry. By ten o’clock all was over, the Persians leaving
two guns and all their ammunition in the hands of the British. In the
evening Outram resumed his march, and re-entered Bushire during the
night of the 9th. His troops had marched ninety miles over ground
converted into a swamp by heavy rains, and had seized a camp and won a
battle, in a little more than six days. In a ‘Field-force Order,’ issued
on February 10th, and signed by Colonel (afterwards Sir Edward) Lugard
as chief of the staff, Outram warmly complimented his troops on this
achievement.
After this dashing affair at Khoosh-aub, the patience of Sir James was
sorely tried by a long period of comparative inactivity—occasioned in
part by the rainy state of the weather, and in part by the non-arrival
of some of the artillery and cavalry, without which his further
operations would necessarily be much impeded. Brigadier-general Havelock
arrived about this time, and took command of the second division, which
had hitherto been under a substitute. The feeding of the army had become
a difficult matter; for the Persian traders came in less readily after
the battle of Khoosh-aub. Rumours gradually spread in the camp that an
expedition was shortly to be sent out to Mohamrah, a town near the
confluence of the Euphrates and the Karoon, about three days’ sail up
from Bushire; these rumours gave pleasurable excitement to the troops,
who were becoming somewhat wearied of their Bushire encampment. Much had
yet to be done, however, before the expedition could start; the
northwest winds in the gulf delayed the arrival of the ships containing
the cavalry and artillery. On the 4th of March, Sir James made public
his plan. General Stalker was to remain at Bushire, with Brigadiers
Wilson, Honner, and Tapp, in command of about 3000 men of all arms;
while Outram and Havelock, with several of the brigadiers, at the head
of 4000 troops, were to make an expedition to Mohamrah, where many
fortifications were reported to have been recently thrown up, and where
10,000 or 12,000 Persian troops were assembled. During many days
troop-ships were going up the Persian Gulf and the Euphrates—some
conveying the troops already at Bushire; and others conveying cavalry
and artillery as fast as they arrived from Bombay. The enemy eagerly
watched these movements from the shore, but ventured on no molestation.
During the three weeks occupied by these movements, events of an almost
unprecedented character occurred at Bushire—the suicide of two British
officers who dreaded the responsibility of the duties devolving upon
them. These officers were—Major-general Stalker, commanding the first
division of the army; and Commodore Ethersey, who had been placed in
command of the Indian navy in the Persian Gulf when Sir Henry Leeke
returned to Bombay. Stalker shot himself on the 14th of March. On that
morning, Sir James Outram and Commander Jones had breakfasted with him
in his tent. He displayed no especial despondency; but it had been
before remarked how distressed he appeared on the subject of the want of
barrack-accommodation for his troops—fearing lest he should be held
responsible if the soldiers, during the heat of the approaching summer,
suffered through want of shelter. On one or two other subjects he
appeared unable to bear the burden of command; he dreaded lest Outram,
by exposing himself to danger in any approaching conflict, might lose
his life, and thereby leave the whole weight of the duty and
responsibility on him (Stalker). Shortly after breakfast, a shot was
heard in the tent, and the unfortunate general was found weltering in
his blood. Commodore Ethersey followed this sad example three days
afterwards. For three months he had been labouring under anxiety and
despondency, haunted by a perpetual apprehension that neither his mental
nor physical powers would bear up under the weight of responsibility
incurred by the charge of the Indian navy during the forthcoming
operations. Memoranda in his diary afforded full proof of this. An entry
on the day after Stalker’s suicide ran thus: ‘Heard of poor Stalker’s
melancholy death. His case is similar to my own. He felt he was unequal
to the responsibility imposed on him.... I have had a wretched night.’
So deep had been his despondency for some time, and so frequently
expressed to those around him, that the news of his suicide on the 17th
excited less surprise than pain.
It had been Outram’s intention to proceed against Mohamrah directly
after his return from Borasjoon and Khoosh-aub; but the unexpected and
vexing delays above adverted to prevented him from setting forth until
the 18th of March. He was aware that the Persians had for three months
been strengthening the fortifications of that place; he knew that the
opposite bank of the river was on Turkish ground (Mesopotamia), on which
he would not be permitted to erect batteries; and he therefore
anticipated a tough struggle before he could master Mohamrah. His plan
was, to attack the enemy’s batteries with armed steamers and
sloops-of-war; and then, when the fire had slackened, to tow up the
troops in boats by small steamers, land them at a selected point, and at
once proceed to attack the enemy’s camp. The Persian army, 13,000
strong, was commanded by the Shahzada, Prince Mirza. Outram’s force was
rather under 5000, including only 400 cavalry: the rest having been left
to guard Bushire and the encampment. Outram and Havelock arrived near
Mohamrah on the 24th, and immediately began to place the war-ships in
array, and to plant mortars on rafts in the river. On the 26th, the
ships and mortars opened a furious fire; under cover of which the troops
were towed up the river, and landed at a spot northward of the town and
its batteries. The Persians, who had felt the utmost confidence that the
landing of a British force, in the face of thirteen thousand men and a
formidable array of batteries, would be an impossibility, were
panic-stricken at this audacity. When, at about two o’clock, Outram
advanced from the landing-place through date-groves and across a plain
to the enemy’s camp, the Persians fled precipitately, after exploding
their largest magazine—leaving behind them all their tents, several
magazines of ammunition, seventeen guns, baggage, and a vast amount of
public and private stores. As Outram had, at that hour, been able to
land not even one hundred cavalry, he could effect little in the way of
pursuit; the Persians made off, strewing the ground with arms and
accoutrements which they abandoned in their hurry. Commodore Young
commanded the naval portion of this expedition, having succeeded the
unfortunate Ethersey.
This action of Mohamrah scarcely deserved the name of a battle; for as
soon as the ships and mortars had, by their firing, enabled the troops
to land, the enemy ran away. Outram had scarcely any cavalry, and his
infantry had no fighting—rather to their disappointment. The Persians
having retreated up the river Karoon towards Ahwaz, Outram resolved to
send three small armed steamers after them, each carrying a hundred
infantry. Captain Rennie started on the 29th, in command of this
flotilla: his instructions being, ‘to steam up to Ahwaz, and act with
discretion according to circumstances.’ He proceeded thirty miles that
day, anchored at night, landed, and found the remains of a bivouac. On
the 30th he reached Ismailiyeh, and on the 31st Oomarra. Arriving near
Ahwaz on the 1st of April, Rennie came up with the Persian army which
had retreated from Mohamrah. Nothing daunted, he landed his little force
of 300 men, advanced to the town, entered it, and allayed the fears of
the inhabitants; while the Persians, thirty or forty times his number,
retreated further northward towards Shuster, with scarcely any attempt
to disturb him—such was the panic into which the affair at Mohamrah had
thrown them. Captain Rennie, having had the satisfaction of putting to
flight a large Persian army with a handful of 300 British, and having
given to the inhabitants of Ahwaz such stores of government grain and
flour as he could seize, embarked a quantity of arms, sheep, and mules,
which he had captured, and steamed back to Mohamrah—earning and
receiving the thanks of the general for his management of the
expedition.
Just at this period a most sudden and unexpected event put an end to the
operations. Captain Rennie’s expedition returned to Mohamrah on the 4th
of April; and on the 5th arrived news that peace had been signed between
England and Persia. Outram’s army, European and native, was rapidly
approaching 14,000 men; such a force, under such a leader, might have
marched from one end of Persia to the other; and both officers and
soldiers had begun to have bright anticipations of honour, and perhaps
of prize-money. It was with something like disappointment, therefore,
that the news of the treaty was listened to; there had not been fighting
enough to whet the appetites of the heroic; while soldiers generally
would fain make a treaty at the sword’s point, rather than see it done
in the bureaux of diplomatists. Captain Hunt of the 78th Highlanders,
who was concerned in the operations at Mohamrah and Ahwaz, and who wrote
a volume descriptive of the whole campaign, told very frankly of the
dissatisfaction in the camp: ‘The news of peace with Persia having been
signed at Paris on the 4th of March damped the elation of all, and
considerable disgust was felt at this abrupt termination to what had
promised to prove a brilliant campaign.’
How and where the treaty of peace was concluded, we must now shew, in
connection with the proceedings of ministers, legislators, and
ambassadors.
When the Persian expedition was determined on, parliament was not
sitting, and no legislative sanction for the war could be obtained; but
when the session opened in February 1857, the policy of the government
was severely canvassed. Ministers were charged with involving the
country in a war, without the nation itself being acquainted with the
causes, or even consulted at all in the matter. The Earl of Clarendon
explained the course of events at considerable length. He went into the
case of Mr Murray, and the quarrel with the Persian government on
matters of diplomatic etiquette—justifying that envoy in all that he had
done. But the earl was particular in his assertions that the Murray
dispute was not the cause of the war. The siege and capture of Herat
furnished the _casus belli_. He dwelt on the immense value of that city
as a military station. ‘Herat is altogether a most important place for
military operations; and an enemy once in possession of it is completely
master of the position. Every government of this country has desired
that Afghanistan should be protected; and it clearly cannot be protected
if Herat remains in the power of Persia.’ He expressed a conviction that
‘the Russian government and the whole of the Russian people are under a
belief that their destiny is to go forward, to conquer, and to hold new
territory;’ and that this disposition would be greatly tempted if
Persia, backed up by Russia, were permitted to seize Herat. He stated
finally that the Persian ambassador at Paris had recently expressed a
wish to renew negotiations for peace, and that the British government
would willingly listen to any overtures for that purpose. Lord
Palmerston gave similar explanations in the House of Commons. The Earls
of Derby and Malmesbury, Earl Grey, Lord John Russell, Mr Gladstone, and
Mr Disraeli, all spoke disparagingly of the Persian expedition—either
because it was not necessary; or because, if necessary, parliamentary
permission for it ought to have been obtained. The latter was the strong
point of opposition; many members asserted, not only that the nation was
involved in a new war without its own consent, but that no one could
understand whether war had been declared by the Crown or by the East
India Company. Earl Grey moved an amendment condemnatory of the
ministerial policy; but this was negatived. The ministers declined to
produce the diplomatic correspondence at that time, because there was a
hope of renewed negotiations with Furukh Khan at Paris.
At the close of February it became known to the public that the East
India Company had, not unnaturally, demurred to the incidence of the
expenses of the Persian war on their revenues. It appeared that, so
early as the 22d of October the Court of Directors had written to the
president of the Board of Control—adverting to ‘the expedition for
foreign service preparing at Bombay, under the orders (it is presumed)
of her Majesty’s government, communicated through the Secret Committee;’
and suggesting for his consideration ‘how far it may be just and proper
to subject India to the whole of the charges consequent on those
orders.’ The directors, as a governing body, had no voice whatever in
determining on the Persian war; and yet their soldiers and sailors were
to take part in it, and the Indian revenues to bear all or part of the
burden. It was ultimately decided that England should pay one-half of
the expenses, the other half being borne by the Company out of the
revenues of India.
Before the British public could learn one single fact connected with the
landing of Sir James Outram or of the second division in Persia, they
were surprised by the announcement that Lord Cowley and Furukh Khan had
succeeded in coming to terms of pacification at Paris—the Persian
ambassador having received from his sovereign large powers for this
purpose. A provisional treaty was signed on the 4th of March, of which
the following is a condensed summary: Peace to be restored between
England and Persia—British troops to evacuate Persia as soon as certain
conditions should be complied with—All prisoners of war to be released
on both sides—The Shah to give an amnesty to any of his subjects who
might have been compromised by and during the war—The Shah to withdraw
all his troops from Herat and Afghanistan within three months after the
ratification of the treaty—The Shah to renounce all claim upon Herat or
any other Afghan state, whether for sovereignty or for tribute—In any
future quarrel between Persia and the Afghan khans, England to be
appealed to as a friendly mediator—England to display equal justice to
Persia and Afghanistan, in the event of any such appeal—Persia to have
the power of declaring and maintaining war against any Afghan state in
the event of positive insult or injury; but not to make such war a
pretext for annexation or permanent occupation—Persia to liberate all
Afghan prisoners, on condition of Persian prisoners being released by
Afghans—All trading arrangements between England and Persia, in relation
to consuls, ports, customs, &c., to be on an equal and friendly
footing—The British mission, on its return to Teheran, to be received
with due honours and ceremonials—Two commissioners to be named by the
two courts, to adjudicate on British pecuniary claims against Persia—The
British government to renounce all claim to any ‘protection’ over the
Shah’s subjects against the Shah’s consent, provided no such power be
given to [Russia or] any other court—England and Persia to aid each
other in suppressing the slave-trade in the Persian Gulf—A portion of
the English troops to remain on Persian soil until Herat should be
evacuated by the Persians, but without any expense, and with as little
annoyance as possible, to the Persian government—Ratifications to be
exchanged at Bagdad within three months.
This treaty—which, if faithfully carried out, would certainly debar
Persia from any undue interference with Afghan affairs—was signed at
Paris on the very day (March 4th) when Sir James Outram announced to his
troops at Bushire the intended attack on Mohamrah. Such was one of the
anomalies springing from diplomacy at one place and war at another many
thousand miles distant. Furukh Khan proceeded, on the 19th from Paris to
London, where he was received by Queen Victoria as plenipotentiary
extraordinary from the Shah of Persia, and where the arrangements for
the fulfilment of the treaty were further carried out. The treaty having
been forwarded to Teheran, was ratified by the Shah of Persia on the
14th of April, and the ratification arrived at Bagdad on the 17th. The
English nation was still, as it had been from the beginning, without the
means of judging whether the Persian war had been necessary or not; the
government still withheld the state papers, on the ground that, as the
ratification of the treaty would speedily be effected, it would be
better to wait until then. When, later in the year, the Chancellor of
the Exchequer asked the House of Commons for a vote of half a million
sterling, ‘on account of the expenses of the Persian war,’ many members
protested against the vote, on the ground that parliament had not been
consulted in any way concerning the war. On the 16th of July Mr Roebuck
moved a resolution—‘That the war with Persia was declared, prosecuted,
and concluded without information of such transactions being
communicated to parliament; while expensive armaments were equipped
without the sanction of a vote of this House; and that such conduct
tends to weaken its just authority, and to dispense with its
constitutional control over the finances of the country, and renders it
requisite for this House to express its strong reprobation of such a
course of proceeding.’ The government policy was censured on many
grounds by Mr Roebuck, Lord John Russell, Mr Gladstone, and Mr Disraeli;
the first of these speakers even went so far as to attribute the mutiny
in India to the withdrawal of troops for the Persian war. The House of
Commons agreed, however, pretty generally in the opinion, that although
the ministers might reasonably have been more communicative before they
commenced hostilities with Persia, there was ground sufficient for the
hostilities themselves; and the resolution was negatived by 352 to 38.
The question was reopened on the 17th, when the House granted the
half-million asked by the Chancellor of the Exchequer towards defraying
the expenses of this war; renewed attacks were made on the Asiatic
policy of the Palmerston government, but the vote was agreed to; and
nothing further occurred, during the remainder of the session, to
disturb the terms of the pacification.
It is unnecessary to trace the course of events in Persia after the
ratification of the treaty. The British officers, and the troops under
their charge, had no further glory or honour to acquire; they would be
called upon simply, either to remain quietly in Persia until Herat was
evacuated, or to go through the troublesome ordeal of re-shipment back
to Bombay. The troops all assembled in and near Bushire, where they
resumed their former camp-life. The officers, having little to do, took
occasional trips to Bassorah, Bagdad, and other places on the banks of
the Euphrates and Tigris; while the soldiers were employed in destroying
the fortifications of the encampment, now no longer needed. On the 9th
of May Sir James Outram issued a ‘Field-force Order’—thanking the troops
for their services during this brief and rather uneventful war, and
announcing the break-up of the force. Some of the regiments and corps
were to return to India, as rapidly as means of transport could be
obtained for them; while the rest, under Brigadier-general Jacob, were
to form a small compact army, to remain at Bushire until all the terms
of the treaty were fulfilled. Outram, Havelock, and a large number of
officers, embarked within a few days for India; and by the time they
reached Bombay and Madras, according to the place to which they were
bound, the startling news reached their ears that a military mutiny had
broken out at Meerut and Delhi. What followed, the pages of this volume
have shewn. As to Persia, much delay occurred in carrying out the terms
of the treaty, much travelling to and fro of envoys, and many months’
detention of British troops at Bushire; but at length the Persians
evacuated Herat, the British quitted the Gulf, and the singular ‘Persian
war,’ marked by so few battles, came to an end.
[Illustration:
BUSHIRE.
]
§ 2. THE CHINESE AND JAPANESE EXPEDITIONS, 1856-7-8.
The occurrences westward of India having thus been briefly narrated,
attention may now be directed to those on the east.
Viewed in relation to the circumstances which immediately preceded
hostilities, it might almost be said that England declared war against
China because a few persons went on board a small vessel to search for
certain offenders, and because a Chinese official would not civilly
receive visits from a British official. These trifling incidents,
however, were regarded as symptoms of something greater: symptoms which
required close diplomatic watching. To understand this matter, a brief
summary of earlier events is needed.
During the first thirty years of the present century, in like manner as
in earlier centuries, Europeans had no recognised right of residing in
China, or even of visiting its ports. Merchants were allowed to reside
at Canton, by official connivance rather than sanction; and even this
was possible only at certain times of the year—they being required in
other months to retire to Macao. They were liable to be expelled from
Canton at any time, with or without assigned cause; their trade was
liable to be stopped with equal suddenness; and, under the designation
of ‘barbarians,’ all negotiation was denied to them except through the
medium of a mercantile community called the Hong merchants. During many
years, Indian opium was the chief commodity sold by the English to the
Chinese, in exchange for tea and other produce. This opium-trade was
always declared illegal by the Chinese government, though always
covertly favoured by the Chinese officials. Quarrels frequently arose
concerning this trade, and the quarrels sometimes ended in violence. The
import of opium became so large that the exports were insufficient to
pay for it; and when silver was thus found necessary to make up the
balance, the imperial anger waxed stronger and stronger. The
‘barbarians’ were commanded not to bring any more opium; but, finding
the trade too profitable to be abandoned, they continued their dealings
in spite of the mandates of the celestial potentate.
The year 1831 may be said to have commenced the political or
international stage of this difficulty. The governor-general of India
wrote a letter to the governor of Canton, complaining of the conduct of
the Chinese authorities, and demanding explanations, &c. Why his
lordship, rather than any functionary in England, did this, was because
the East India Company in those days sold opium on its own account, and
made use of its political power to render that trade as profitable as
possible—one of the pernicious anomalies arising out of the Company’s
double functions. In 1832, the governor of Canton vouchsafed a partial
explanation, but only to the Hong merchants—refusing with superb scorn,
to communicate either with the Company’s merchants, or with the
governor-general. In 1833 an imperial edict forbade the introduction of
opium; but this, like many that preceded it, remained inoperative. In
1834 the Company’s trading monopoly ceasing, private merchants thereupon
engaged in the tea-trade with China. The English government sent three
commissioners—Lord Napier, Mr (afterwards Sir) J. F. Davis, and Sir G.
B. Robinson—as ‘superintendents of British commerce in China.’ The
Chinese authorities refused to acknowledge these commissioners in any
way, in spite of numerous invitations; while on the other hand the
commissioners refused to retire from Canton to Macao. These disputes led
to violence, and the violence brought a British ship-of-war up the
Canton river. A compromise was the result—the commissioners retiring to
Macao, and the Chinese authorities allowing the resumption of the
opium-traffic. Lord Napier died towards the close of the year, and was
succeeded as chief-superintendent by Mr Davis—Captain Elliot being
appointed secretary, and afterwards third superintendent. During the
next three years trade continued; but the Chinese officials were
uniformly rude and insulting. The British government would not permit
Captain Elliot to submit to these indignities; missives and
counter-missives passed to and fro; and the year 1837 ended with
threatening symptoms. In 1838 Admiral Maitland arrived in Canton river
with a ship of war, to protect British interests—by cannon-balls, if not
by friendly compact. The nearest approach to equality between the two
nations was in an interview between Admiral Maitland and the Chinese
Admiral Kwan; in which Maitland assured his brother-admiral that he
would remain peaceful—until provoked. In 1839, as in previous years, the
opium-trade was often violently interrupted by the Chinese authorities.
The officers of the English government, political and naval, were placed
in an embarrassing position in this matter; their duty was to protect
Englishmen; but they could not compel the Chinese to trade in opium—for
the Chinese government held the same power as all other despotic
governments, of prohibiting or encouraging trade with other countries.
In this year, when Maitland was absent, Elliot became powerless at
Canton; he and all the English were made prisoners, and could not obtain
release until they had destroyed all the opium in the English
stores—more than twenty thousand chests. This was done: Elliot
guaranteeing that the English government would repay the merchants.
Commissioner Lin saw that the opium was wholly destroyed; and by the end
of May almost every European had quitted Canton.
It was thus that commenced the first Chinese war—a war which had a bad
moral basis on the English side; since it arose more out of the forced
sale of an intoxicating drug, than out of any other circumstance. The
British government, finding themselves bound by Captain Elliot’s promise
to pay an enormous sum for the opium destroyed, and feeling the
importance of maintaining British supremacy in the east, resolved to
settle the quarrel by warlike means. Fighting and negotiating alternated
during 1840 and the two following years. At one time, Sir Gordon Bremer,
at another, Sir Hugh Gough, commanded troops on the Chinese coast,
acting in conjunction with ships-of-war; and according to the amount of
naval or military success, so did the Chinese authorities manifest or
not a disposition to treat. Commissioner Lin, then Commissioner Keshen,
and afterwards Commissioner Key-ing, conducted negotiations—a perilous
duty; for their imperial master did not scruple to punish, or even to
put to death, those diplomatists who made a treaty distasteful to him;
and nothing but the noise of cannon induced him to respect treaties when
made. The chief military and naval events of the three years, in
connection with this struggle, were the following: The British ship
_Hellas_ attacked by junks, and many of the crew killed; an attempt to
burn the British fleet by fire-rafts; Chusan taken by the English; naval
action near Macao; attack and capture of Chuen-pe and Tae-cok-tow;
Hong-kong taken by the English; the Bogue forts, with 460 guns, taken by
Sir Gordon Bremer; Canton attacked by the British, under Sir Hugh Gough,
and only spared on the prompt payment of five million dollars; Amoy,
with 300 guns, taken by the British; the cities of Ting-hae, Ching-hae,
Ning-po, and several others on the coast, captured; several military
engagements in the vicinity of the captured cities; an advance of a
powerful squadron up the Yang-tsze-kiang; and a threatening of the great
city of Nankin, which brought the emperor effectually to terms—all the
previous offers of negotiation on the part of the Chinese having been
mere expedients to save time.
The war ended thuswise. Sir Henry Pottinger arrived in the Chinese
waters in April 1842, with full power as representative of the British
Crown; and it was he who procured the important ‘Treaty of Nankin,’
signed by the respective plenipotentiaries in 1842, and the
ratifications exchanged by the respective sovereigns in 1843. This
treaty having had an important bearing on the later or second war with
China, we will epitomise a few of its chief conditions: Lasting peace
and friendship established between England and China—China to pay
21,000,000 dollars for the opium destroyed, and for the expenses of the
war; the payments to be spread over four years—The ports of Canton,
Amoy, Fuh-choo-foo, Ning-po, and Shang-hae, to be thrown open to British
merchants, with consular facilities, and just and regular tariffs—The
island of Hong-kong to become a permanent British possession—All British
subjects, at that time confined in China, to be at once and
unconditionally released—The Chinese emperor to give an amnesty to all
his own subjects, in respect of any proceedings on their part friendly
to the British—Correspondence in future to be conducted on terms of
perfect equality between the officers of the two governments—The islands
of Chusan and Kulangsoo to be held by the British until the fulfilment
of all the conditions of the treaty, and then given up.
Under the influence of this Treaty of Nankin, trade rapidly extended
between England and China. Instead of being confined to Canton, and
conducted in a stealthy and undignified manner, it was openly carried on
at five ports. The British government did not undertake to protect the
opium-trade more than that in any other commodity; on the contrary, the
representatives of the English government would gladly have seen that
trade diminish; but in truth, the East India Company realised several
millions sterling a year profit by it, and English merchants reaped many
additional millions: insomuch that a very powerful influence was brought
to back up this trade.
A ‘Supplementary Treaty’ was signed in October 1843, for regulating the
terms of commercial intercourse at the five ports, and providing for the
courteous reception of British representatives by the Chinese officials,
in matters relating to mutual trade. During the thirteen years following
the signature of the Treaty of Nankin, the trade between England and
China gradually increased, though not at so rapid a rate as had been
hoped by British manufacturers and merchants. The English had trading
establishments, with consuls and other officials, at the five ports, and
a colony or military settlement at Hong-kong; while there were always a
few ships-of-war in the Chinese waters. The relations, however, were not
wholly peaceful. The inhabitants of Canton had a general ill-will
towards the English; so had the imperial viceroy; and violence arising
out of this ill-will led to a brief period of hostilities. In April
1847, the English seized the Bogue Forts, in the Canton river, in order
to obtain redress for various insults; this seizure was followed by a
new convention.
Thus matters continued until October 1856. On the 8th of that month, an
incident occurred, trivial in itself, which gave rise to the ‘Second War
with China.’ Sir John Bowring was at that time chief representative of
British interests in China, with Hong-kong as his head-quarters; Admiral
Sir Michael Seymour commanded the royal ships in those seas; Commodore
Elliot was under Seymour in the Canton and Hong-kong district; and Mr
Parkes was consul at Canton. These were the English officials more
immediately concerned in the matter. On the day here named, a Chinese
officer and a party of soldiers boarded a _lorcha_ or small vessel
called the _Arrow_, anchored off Canton; and then seized twelve out of
fourteen of the crew, bound them, and carried them away. The _Arrow_ had
a colonial register from the governor of Hong-kong, which placed it
under British protection; the master, an Englishman, protested against
the seizure, but was not listened to. The British flag, too, was hauled
down from the lorcha. This was the statement on the part of the British.
Most of the accusations, however, were stoutly denied by the officials
of Canton, who asserted that the lorcha was Chinese, that the owner was
Chinese, that the crew were Chinese, and that the boarding was effected
simply to take into custody men who had committed some offence against
Chinese laws.
When the seizure of the men from the _Arrow_ became known, Mr Parkes
remonstrated with the Chinese officer, on the ground that the crew were
under British protection. No notice being taken of this remonstrance, Mr
Parkes communicated with the highest dignitary in that part of China,
whose name was Yeh Mingchin, and whose office was variously designated
imperial commissioner, governor, and viceroy. The letter sent by Parkes
to this functionary demanded that the twelve men should be brought back
to the lorcha by the same officer who had taken them away, that an
apology should be made, and an assurance given that the British flag
should in future be respected. The men were sent back, after much
negotiation; but Mr Parkes complained that the return ‘was not made in
the public manner which had marked the seizure, and that all appearance
of an apology was pointedly avoided.’ The facts were communicated to Sir
John Bowring, and by him to Admiral Seymour. No real injury had been
done, for the men had been reinstated; but there was an insult, which
the English representatives conceived themselves bound to resent. They
had often been piqued at the absence of respect shewn by the officers of
the Celestial Empire, and were willing to avail themselves of any
reasonable opportunity for bringing about a more diplomatic state of
affairs.
The first act of war occurred on the part of the British. Sir John
Bowring recommended to the admiral the seizure of a Chinese junk or
war-boat, as a probable mode of bringing an apology. Sir Michael
accordingly directed Commodore Elliot, of the _Sybille_, to carry out
Bowring’s instructions; and placed at his disposal the _Burracouta_
steam-sloop and the _Coromandel_ tender. A junk was seized; but this was
a profitless adventure; for, being found to be private property, the
junk was given up again. The admiral next sent the steam-frigates
_Encounter_ and _Sampson_ up the Canton river; ‘in the hope that the
presence of such an imposing force would shew the high-commissioner the
prudence of complying with our demands.’ The Chinese viceroy remained,
nevertheless, immovable; he made no apology. Mr Parkes thereupon went
from Canton to Hong-kong, to consult with Bowring and Seymour as to the
best course to be adopted. They all agreed that the seizure of the
defences of the city of Canton would be the most judicious, both as a
display of power without the sacrifice of life, and of the determination
of the English to enforce redress—‘experience of the Chinese character
having proved that moderation is considered by the officials only as an
evidence of weakness.’
Then commenced the second stage in the proceedings. On the 23d of
October, Sir Michael Seymour went in person up to Canton, with the
_Coromandel_, _Sampson_, and _Barracouta_, and accompanied by the
marines and boat-crews of the _Calcutta_, _Winchester_, _Bittern_, and
_Sybille_. He captured four forts a few miles below Canton, spiked the
guns, destroyed the ammunition, and burned the buildings. Another, the
Macao fort, in the middle of the river, mounting 86 guns, he retained
and garrisoned for a time. Mr Parkes was then sent to announce to Yeh
that the British admiral had come to enforce redress for insults
received, and would remain in the river until redress was obtained. The
high-commissioner sent a reply which was not deemed satisfactory. On the
morning of the 24th, marines and sailors were sent to capture the
‘Bird’s Nest Fort,’ the Shamin Fort, and others near Canton; this they
did, spiking the guns and destroying the ammunition. On the afternoon of
the same day, strong reinforcements were sent to the British factory, or
trading-station of the merchants, to protect it from any sudden attack,
and to guard against the floating of fire-rafts by the Chinese on the
river.
‘Apology’ was the demand made by the British representatives; but no
apology came; and thereupon the siege of Canton was proceeded with. On
the 25th, a fort called the Dutch Folly, immediately opposite the city,
was captured. The 26th being Sunday, nothing was done on that day. On
the 27th, the admiral heightened his demands. He caused Consul Parkes to
write to the Chinese commissioner, to the effect that as the required
apology and reparation had not been given, the terms should be made more
stringent. Henceforward, the field of contest was widened; it was no
longer the lorcha and the flag alone that constituted the grievance. Sir
John Bowring probably thought that the same amount of threat and of
fighting, if fighting there must be, might be made to settle other
annoyances, as well as those more immediately under notice. No reply
being sent to Parkes’s letter, the guns of the _Encounter_ and
_Barracouta_ were brought to bear upon the Chinese commissioner’s
residence, and upon some troops posted on the hills behind a fort named
by the English Gough’s Fort. This enraged Yeh Mingchin, who issued a
proclamation, offering a reward of thirty dollars for every Englishman’s
head.
Sir Michael, resolved to punish this obstinate viceroy, made
preparations for a much more serious attack. He sent Captain Hall on
shore, to warn the inhabitants of Canton to remove their persons and
property from the vicinity of a certain portion of the city; this they
did during the night of the 27th. On the 28th, a bombardment was kept up
from the Dutch Folly, with a view of opening a clear passage to the wall
of the city; and when this passage was opened by noon on the 29th, a
storming-party was sent in under Commodore Elliot. Marines and sailors,
with two field-pieces, advanced to the wall, and speedily obtained
possession of the defences between two of the city-gates. One of the
gates was then blown to pieces by gunpowder, and another body of seamen
advanced to that spot under Captain Hall. Soon afterwards, Seymour,
Parkes, and Elliot entered the city through this shattered gate, went to
the high-commissioner’s house, inspected it, remained there some time,
and then returned to the ships. The motive for this visit was a singular
one, unusual in European warlike politics, but having a significance in
dealing with so peculiar a people as the Chinese; it was simply (in the
words of the admiral’s dispatch) ‘to shew his excellency that I had the
power to enter the city.’
The month of November opened ominously. The British were determined to
humble the pride of the Chinese officials; whereas, these officials
shewed no signs of yielding. Admiral Seymour now addressed a letter in
his own name to the high-commissioner, adverting to the case of the
_Arrow_; pointing threateningly to the fact that Canton was at the mercy
of cannon-balls, and inviting him to terminate the unsatisfactory state
of affairs by a personal interview. He claimed credit, rather than the
reverse, for his conduct towards the city. ‘It has been wholly with a
view to the preservation of life, that my operations have hitherto been
so deliberately conducted. Even when entering the city, no blood was
shed, save where my men were assailed; and the property of the people
was in every way respected.’ Commissioner Yeh’s reply to this letter was
not deficient in courtesy or dignity; whether or not he believed his own
assertions, he at least put them forth in temperate language. He
maintained, as he had before asserted to Consul Parkes, that the seizure
of the twelve men on board the _Arrow_ was perfectly legal; that some of
them had been released on their innocence of an imputed crime being
proved; that the other three were given up when Parkes demanded them;
that the _Arrow_ was a Chinese vessel; that the authorities had no means
of knowing that she had passed into the hands of an Englishman; that no
flag was flying when the vessel was boarded, and, therefore, no flag
could have been insultingly hauled down. The non-admission of English
representatives into Canton was defended on the plea that, the less the
two nations came in contact, the less were they likely to quarrel. Again
was a letter written, and in more threatening terms than before. Sir
Michael refused to discuss in writing the case of the _Arrow_, and
insisted that nothing short of a personal interview between himself and
Yeh, either on shipboard, or in Canton city, could settle the quarrel.
Nothing daunted, Commissioner Yeh replied on the 3d, reiterating his
assertions of the justice of his cause, and acceding to no propositions
for a personal interview.
On the 6th a naval engagement took place on the river. The Chinese
collected twenty-three war-junks in one spot, under the protection of
the French Folly fort, mounted with twenty-six heavy guns. This fort was
a little lower down the river than the Dutch Folly. Seymour resolved to
disperse this junk-fleet at once. Commodore Elliot headed an attack by
the guns, the crews, and the boats of the _Barracouta_ and _Coromandel_.
A fierce exchange of firing took place: the Chinese having no less than
a hundred and fifty guns in the junks and the fort. The fort was taken,
the guns spiked, and the ammunition destroyed; the Chinese were driven
out of the junks, and twenty-two of those vessels were burned. No
fighting took place on the 7th. On the 8th the Chinese made a bold
attempt to burn the British ships by fire-rafts; but the intended
mischief was frustrated. The commissioner still being immovable, Bowring
now suggested to Seymour that the next step ought to be the capture and
destruction of the Bogue Forts—four powerfully armed defences on which
the Chinese much relied. This was done after more fruitless negotiation.
[Illustration:
Chinese War-junks.
]
Admiral Seymour had thus, by the middle of November, obtained full
command of the Canton river; and he then stayed his operations for a
while. The original cause of dispute, comparatively trifling, had now
given place to a very grave state of affairs; and it remained to be seen
whether the Palmerston ministry would lay all the blame on the obstinacy
of Commissioner Yeh, or whether Bowring and Seymour would be considered
to have exceeded their powers and their duties. So far as concerns the
attitude of the Cantonese themselves, three deputations from the
principal merchants and gentry waited on Mr Parkes between the 8th and
12th of November, to express their wishes that an amicable termination
of the quarrel could be brought about; but at the same time to assert
their conviction that, such was the inflexibility of the
high-commissioner’s character, he would never alter his expressed
determination to refuse the English representatives admission into the
city.
It may be well to remark in this place that the opium difficulty, which
was unquestionably paramount above all others in the first war with
China, had now lost much of its importance. The imperial government had
in later years issued very few edicts against the traffic in this drug.
Perhaps the quietness in this matter was mainly due to the fact that the
export of silver to pay for the Indian opium was no longer needed—the
increased sale of tea and silk being sufficient to make up an
equivalent.
On the 26th of the month, other armed forts in the Canton river were
taken by the English. The Chinese, in revenge for these proceedings,
burned and destroyed almost all the European factories, mercantile
buildings, and banks at Canton—leaving so little but ruins that Admiral
Seymour could hardly find a roof to cover the seamen and marines when
they afterwards landed. The commercial losses might be repaired; but an
irreparable consequence of the incendiarism was the destruction of Dr
Williams’s printing establishment; including the large founts of Chinese
type with which Morrison’s Dictionary was printed; and comprising also
more than 10,000 unsold volumes of books.
In this sort of piecemeal war, each successive attack irritated in its
turn the opposite party; but the burning of the factories determined
Bowring and Seymour to the adoption of a sterner policy than had
hitherto been displayed. They resolved to bombard Canton itself, and to
send an application to the governor-general of India for military
aid—trusting that the home-government would hold them justified in
adopting this course under difficulties and responsibilities of no light
kind.
The year 1856 came to a close. The new year was ushered in with an
attack by the Chinese on Dutch Folly on the 1st of January. Six guns
mounted on the Canton shore, and four on the opposite shore, fired into
the Folly; but the small English force there stationed soon quelled this
attack. On the 4th, a fleet of war-junks opened fire on the _Comus_ and
_Hornet_ at the barrier in Macao Passage. No sooner did news of this
attack reach Admiral Seymour, than he hastened forward in the
_Coromandel_, towing all the available boats of the other ships. On
nearing the junks, some of them undauntedly attacked the _Coromandel_,
the boats, and a fort called the Teetotum Fort, which the English had
before captured. The junks were heavily armed, and some of them had long
snake-boats lashed to each side to row them along. A third fleet came
down Sulphur Creek, and attacked the _Niger_ and the _Encounter_. This
was altogether a new aspect of the quarrel; the Chinese, not in the
least humbled by the demands of Bowring and Seymour, became the
assailants in the Canton river, and fought with a resolution hardly
expected by their opponents. The attacks were not attended with very
definite results. Not one junk was taken; they retired and collected
into a somewhat formidable fleet of nearly four hundred.
The state of affairs was in every sense unsatisfactory to the English
authorities. Commissioner Yeh was as firm as ever, and severely reproved
the Canton gentry and merchants who had sent deputations to Sir Michael.
He issued proclamations, denouncing the ‘barbarians’ in fiercer terms
than before. Cruel massacres took place, whenever an isolated Englishman
chanced to fall into the hands of the Chinese. Proclamations in the
native language found their way to Hong-kong, inviting the seventy
thousand Chinese residing in that island to rise against their English
employers. Some of these Chinese were detected in attempts to introduce
poison into the bread made for and sold to the English residents by the
Chinese bakers. Against all this Bowring and Seymour could do little;
and yet something, it was felt, must be attempted; for British trade at
Canton was for a time ruined; and if matters were allowed to remain in
their present state, the triumph of the Chinese would be most
humiliating and pernicious to the English.
During the month of January (1857), while no progress was made in
settling the differences at Canton, the spirit of the Chinese at
Hong-kong became more and more hostile to the British; nor were those at
Singapore unaffected by the taint. The warlike movements of the month—so
far as that can be called war where no war had yet been
declared—exasperated the Chinese, without making any impression on the
obstinacy of Yeh. They consisted in the destruction of a portion of the
city of Canton. Early on the morning of the 12th, bodies of marines and
sailors set forth, armed with fireballs, torches, steeped oakum, &c.;
they were conveyed in ships’ boats, and landed on different parts of the
suburbs of the city. The boats then retired a little way from the shore,
while the _Barracouta_, _Encounter_, and _Niger_, kept watch in the
middle of the river. The men advanced into the outer streets of the
city, and commenced the work of destruction. The houses being mostly
built of wood, they were easily ignited, and the breeze within an hour
united all the fires into one vast sheet of flame. To increase the
destruction, shot and shell were poured into the city from the ships and
the fort. Throughout the whole of the day, did this miserable work
continue—miserable in so far as it inflicted much suffering on the
inhabitants, without hastening the capture of the city. On the 13th the
attack ceased; Sir Michael Seymour made what arrangements he could to
retain command of the passage of the Canton river; while the Cantonese
provided for their houseless towns-people in hastily built structures.
The British naval force under Sir Michael Seymour, comprising all the
ships in the India and China seas, was by this time very formidable. It
comprised the _Calcutta_ (84), _Raleigh_ (50), _Nanking_ (50), _Sybille_
(40), _Pique_ (40), eight other sailing-vessels varying from 12 to 26
guns, twelve war-steamers, and seven steam gun-boats. These could have
wrought great achievements in action at sea, with their 5000 seamen and
marines; but there were scarcely any regular troops to conduct
operations on land.
During February, the English consuls and traders could not but observe
the increasing hostility of the Chinese. Dastardly assassinations
occasionally took place; piracy was more rampant than ever; war-junks
made their appearance wherever an English boat appeared to be
insufficiently guarded; and proclamations were issued in the name of the
emperor, applauding the firmness of Yeh. The merchants wished either
that the affair of the _Arrow_ had never been taken notice of by the
British authorities, or else that the warlike operations had been
carried on with more resolute effect. All the commercial relations had
become disturbed, without any perceptible prospect of a return to
peaceful trade. One of the worst features in the state of affairs was
this—that as the English throughout the whole of the China seas were at
all times few in number, they were obliged to employ Chinese servants
and helpers; and these Chinamen were found now to be very little
trustworthy. On the 23d of the month, the passenger-steamer _Queen_ was
on its way from Hong-kong to Macao; when suddenly the Chinese passengers
joined with the Chinese crew in a murderous attack on the English
passengers and officers, by which several lives were lost.
March arrived, but with it no solution of the Chinese difficulty. Even
supposing Sir John Bowring, by this time, to have received instructions
from home, warlike or otherwise, there had been no time to send him
reinforcements of troops; and until such arrived, any extensive
operations on land would be impracticable. Sir John and his colleagues
waited until their hands were strengthened.
In April, Seymour as well as Bowring remained quietly at Hong-kong,
effecting nothing except the destruction of some junks. On the 6th,
Commodore Elliot, with a fleet of armed boats from the _Sampson_,
_Hornet_, _Sybille_, and _Nanking_, captured and destroyed eleven
war-junks and two well-armed lorchas, after a chase and an engagement
which lasted all day. Documents fell into the hands of the authorities
at Hong-kong, tending to prove the complicity of the mandarins and many
inhabitants of Canton in the various plots of incendiarism, kidnapping,
and assassination, which had imperiled the persons and property of the
English at that island. There were no present means of punishing these
conspirators; but the discovery led to increased watchfulness.
The month of May witnessed no advance towards a settlement of Chinese
difficulties. A great rebellion was distracting many inland provinces of
the gigantic empire; but it did not appear that this could in any way
help the English. Commissioner Yeh remained in his official residence at
Canton, promising nothing, yielding nothing, and endeavouring to
strengthen the city against the English. The Chinese, on the 3d, made an
attempt to blow up the _Acorn_ sloop-of-war in the Canton River, by
means of a large iron tank filled with gunpowder, which was exploded
close to the sloop; and a similar tank was afterwards found close to the
_Hornet_—the first was exploded with little damage; the second was
discovered before explosion.
Now occurred the sudden and startling outbreak in India, which wrought a
most signal influence on the progress of affairs in China. Before this
influence can usefully be traced, it will be necessary to glance briefly
at the proceedings in England having reference to the Chinese quarrel.
It will be remembered that Sir John Bowring had incurred the heavy
responsibility of commencing hostilities in October 1856, without
special Foreign-office instructions; and that Sir Michael Seymour was
equally without Admiralty instructions. These officers could not
possibly receive an expression either of approval or condemnation, of
advice or command, from England, until four or five months after the
commencement of the troubles. It was near the close of the year when the
British government received particulars of the first operations against
Canton; and it was about the beginning of 1857 when the British
newspapers and the nation took up the subject in earnest.
Immediately on the opening of the session of parliament in February
1857, ministers were eagerly pressed for information concerning the
hostilities in China; because there was a general impression that an
unduly severe punishment had been inflicted by Bowring and Seymour on
the Chinese for a very small offence. On the 5th of February, the Earl
of Ellenborough asked for the production of papers which might throw
light on the affair of the lorcha _Arrow_, and prove whether it was an
English or a Chinese vessel. The Earl of Clarendon, after promising the
production of all the needful documents, stated that Sir John Bowring
had not received any special instructions to demand admission into
China; but that his general instructions authorised him ‘to bear in mind
the desirableness of obtaining that free access to Chinese ports which
was mentioned in the treaty, and more particularly as regarded Canton.’
Whether the means adopted by Bowring to obtain this free access were
commendable, was a question on which the Houses of Parliament soon
became fiercely engaged. Sir George Bonham, Bowring’s predecessor, had
not thought the admission into Canton a matter of great moment; and as
Bowring was appointed by the Whigs, the Conservatives soon contrived to
make a party question of it. Among the papers made public by the
government about this time, was a dispatch written by the Earl of
Clarendon to Sir John Bowring on the 10th of December 1856. The earl had
just learned all that occurred at Canton between the 8th and the 15th of
October; and he expressed an approval of the course pursued by Bowring
and Parkes. Referring to voluminous documents which had been transmitted
to him, he declared his opinions that the lorcha _Arrow_ had a British
master, British flag, and British papers, and was therefore a British
vessel under the terms of the existing treaty; that if the Chinese
authorities suspected there were pirates among the crew, they should
have applied to the English consul, and not have taken the law into
their own hands by boarding and violence—in short, he approved of what
the British officials had done, so far as concerned the single week’s
proceedings which had alone come to his knowledge. Another mail brought
over news of the seizure of the junks, and of the forcible entry of Sir
Michael Seymour into Commissioner Yeh’s house. This conduct met with the
marked and clearly expressed commendation of the Earl of Clarendon, who,
in a dispatch written on the 10th of January, complimented Seymour,
Bowring, and Parkes on the moderation they had displayed under difficult
circumstances.
On the 24th of February, the Earl of Derby moved a series of resolutions
in the House of Lords: ‘That this House has heard with deep regret of
the interruption of amicable relations between her Majesty’s subjects
and the Chinese authorities at Canton; arising out of the measures
adopted by her Majesty’s chief-superintendent of trade to obtain
reparation for alleged infractions of the Supplementary Treaty of the
8th of October 1843. That, in the opinion of this House, the occurrence
of differences on this subject rendered the time peculiarly unfavourable
for pressing on the Chinese authorities a claim for the admittance of
British subjects into Canton, which had been left in abeyance since
1849; and for supporting the same by force of arms. That, in the opinion
of this House, operations of actual hostilities ought not to have been
undertaken without the express instructions, previously received, of her
Majesty’s government; and that neither of the subjects adverted to in
the foregoing resolutions afforded sufficient justification for such
operations.’ These resolutions at once threw the whole blame on Sir John
Bowring; his ‘measures adopted’ caused the ‘interruption of amicable
relations,’ and the House ‘heard with deep regret’ this news. Of course,
the ministers could not sanction the resolutions; they had already sent
over approval of Bowring’s conduct, and now they must manfully defend
him. Hence arose a most exciting debate. The Treaty of 1842, the
Supplementary Treaty of 1843, the Convention of 1847—all came into
discussion, as well as the documents which had passed between the
British and Chinese authorities. It became a party battle. All or nearly
all the Whigs defended Sir John; all or nearly all the Conservatives
attacked him. The judicial peers on the one side declared that the
papers proved the _Arrow_ to be a British vessel; those on the other
asserted that the registry of that vessel at Hong-kong had not been so
conducted as to render this fact certain. The statesmen on the one side
argued that Bowring was right to insist on being admitted into Canton by
virtue of the treaty; those on the other contended that the right was
not such as to justify him in bombarding the city. The general adherents
of the one party believed the statement that the flag of the _Arrow_ had
been insultingly hauled down by the Chinese; those of the other credited
the Chinese statement that the flag had not been hauled down. And so
throughout the debate. It was quite as much a contest of Conservative
against Whig, as of Bowring against Yeh. The Earl of Derby made a
vehement appeal to the peers, for their condemnation of Sir John’s
conduct in going to war without express orders from home; and an earnest
exhortation to the bishops ‘to come forward on this occasion and
vindicate the cause of religion, humanity, and civilisation from the
outrage which had been inflicted upon it by the British representatives
in Canton.’ He declared that ‘he should be disappointed indeed if the
right reverend bench did not respond to this appeal.’ The legal argument
was very strongly contested against the government; Lords Lyndhurst, St
Leonards, and Wensleydale all contending that, owing to some
irregularities in the registry, the _Arrow_ was virtually a Chinese
vessel in October 1856, and that the Chinese authorities had a right to
board it in search of pirates. On a division, the resolutions were
negatived by 146 against 110—the bishops, notwithstanding the Earl of
Derby’s appeal, being as much divided as the other peers.
[Illustration:
CANTON.
]
On the 26th the Commons took up the subject, in connection with a
resolution proposed by Mr Cobden—‘That this House has heard with concern
of the conflicts which have occurred between the British and Chinese
authorities in the Canton river; and, without expressing an opinion as
to the extent to which the government of China may have afforded this
country cause of complaint respecting the non-fulfilment of the treaty
of 1842, this House considers that the papers which have been laid upon
the table fail to establish satisfactory grounds for the violent
measures resorted to at Canton in the late affair of the _Arrow_; and
that a select committee be appointed to inquire into the state of our
commercial relations with China.’ This motion was more important than
the one in the Lords, since it led to a dissolution of parliament. The
debates extended through four evenings. Sir John Bowring was attacked by
Mr Cobden, Sir E. Bulwer Lytton, Lord John Russell, Mr Warren, Mr
Whiteside, Lord Goderich, Sir John Pakington, Sir F. Thesiger, Mr Sidney
Herbert, Mr Roundell Palmer, Mr Milner Gibson, Mr Henley, Mr Roebuck, Mr
Gladstone, and Mr Disraeli; while he was defended by Mr Labouchere, Mr
Lowe, the Lord Advocate, Admiral Sir Charles Napier, Admiral Sir Maurice
Berkeley, the Attorney-general, Sir George Grey, Sir Fenwick Williams
‘of Kars,’ Mr Serjeant Shee, Mr Bernal Osborne, and Lord Palmerston. It
was not merely a contest between Liberals and Conservatives; for the
Derby party were joined here by the small but influential Peel party;
while the names of Russell, Cobden, Goderich, Milner Gibson, and Roebuck
will shew to how large an extent the Liberals were dissatisfied with the
proceedings in China. The arguments employed were such as have been more
than once adverted to—that the _Arrow_ was rather a Chinese than an
English vessel; that the Chinese authorities had a right to board it, to
search for pirates; that no British flag was hauled down, because none
was flying on the lorcha at the time; that the return of the crew by the
authorities ought to have satisfied Mr Parkes; that as Commissioner Yeh
gave explanations, a demand ought not to have been made upon him for an
apology also; that Sir John Bowring ought not to have extended the
quarrel so as to include the question of his admission into Canton; that
the seizure of the junks was illegal; and that the bombardment of Canton
was not only illegal, but ferocious and unbefitting Christian men. Every
one of these positions was disputed by the government; nevertheless the
House of Commons sanctioned them, or the resolutions which implied them,
by a majority of 263 over 247. This vote, arrived at on the 3d of March,
determined Lord Palmerston to appeal to the country by dissolving the
existing parliament and assembling a new one.
During the interregnum between the two parliaments, public opinion was
much divided concerning Chinese affairs. Lord Palmerston was at that
time in much favour, and his courage was admired in defending an absent
subordinate when fiercely attacked; still it was not without a painful
feeling that the nation heard of a great city being bombarded for
trivial reasons. Those who most warmly defended Sir John Bowring were
those who best knew the faithlessness of the Chinese authorities. By a
combination of various causes, direct and indirect, a new House of
Commons was elected more devoted to Lord Palmerston than the one which
preceded it; and the Chinese war then became a settled question, so far
as that branch of the legislature was concerned. During the interval of
more than two months, between the adverse vote on the 3d of March and
the assembling of the new parliament on the 7th of May, the government
were making arrangements for bringing the Chinese difficulty to a
satisfactory termination. They told off certain regiments to be sent to
China; they appointed General Ashburnham to command them; they sent over
the Earl of Elgin with large powers to control the whole of the
proceedings; and they arranged with the French government a joint plan
of action for obtaining, if possible, free commerce at all the Chinese
ports. This scheme of policy was formed and partially put in execution;
but the various portions of it were only by degrees made publicly known.
When parliament reassembled in May, numerous questions were put to the
ministers in both Houses—concerning the appointment of General
Ashburnham; the poisonings at Hong-kong; the treatment of Chinese
prisoners; the relations between the East India Company and China in
reference to the opium trade; the condition of Hong-kong as a British
colony; the emigration of Chinese coolies—and other matters bearing upon
the state of affairs in the Chinese seas. It speedily transpired that
the French government had appointed Baron Gros, to act with the Earl of
Elgin in the political negotiations with the Chinese; that the United
States government would also send out a plenipotentiary; and that the
Russian governor of the sterile provinces on the banks of the Amoor
would be intrusted with similar powers by the court of St Petersburg. If
peaceful efforts should fail to bring the Chinese government to amicable
relations, war was to be carried on more energetically than before. In
addition to the regiments of troops, the British government sent out the
_Furious_ steam-frigate, the _Surprise_ and _Mohawk_ dispatch-boats,
thirteen steam gun-boats, and a steam transport. The Earl of Elgin left
England on the 21st of April; General Ashburnham had started two or
three weeks earlier; and the troops had gradually been shipped off as
transport for them could be obtained. Certain regiments had been
assigned to India, to relieve other regiments which had been long
stationed there; but it was now proposed to send them first to China,
whence, after settling the troubles, they might be transferred to India.
Little did the English government foresee how strangely their plans
would be overturned by the formidable Revolt in India. In the earlier
half of the month of June, the English nation directed no particular
attention to the affairs of the east. The Persian war had come to a
close; the Chinese difficulty was languidly waiting for a solution; and
news of the Indian Revolt had not yet arrived. But the close of the
month witnessed a different state of things. The terrible tragedies at
Meerut and Delhi were now known; and legislators and the press alike
demanded that the comparatively unimportant Chinese expedition should
not be allowed to absorb the services of Queen’s troops so much needed
in India. On the 29th, in the House of Lords, the Earl of Ellenborough
said: ‘We have sent to China that naval force which should, in my
opinion, be left upon the shores of England, to give security to this
country even under the auspices of the most profound peace. That naval
force has been despatched to the Chinese waters—for what?—to carry on a
contest between Sir John Bowring and Commissioner Yeh! Six battalions of
troops have been sent out there for the same purpose; but I cannot help
thinking that those six battalions will be found insufficient to bring
under our control the numerous population of Canton. The consequence
will be, that we shall find ourselves under the necessity of sending out
further reinforcements. But are we, with India in danger, to fight the
battle of the government? Are we, my lords, determined, happen what may,
to persevere in that fatal policy which her Majesty’s ministers have
adopted?’ Similar animadversions were made in the House of Commons by Mr
Disraeli. The ministers, while announcing the immediate dispatch of more
troops to India, did not promise that the Chinese expedition should be
diverted from its purpose; for they underrated at that time the serious
import of the sepoy revolt. Soon afterwards, however, when the news from
India became more and more gloomy, orders were issued that some of the
troops not yet embarked should be sent to India instead of China. As no
such catastrophe as a mutiny in India could reasonably be anticipated
when the Earl of Elgin was sent out, the ministers could not tell how
far that plenipotentiary might accede to any application made to him by
the governor-general of India for the use of the troops already
approaching or in the Indian seas.
Such being the progress of opinion and of preparation in England in
reference to the Chinese quarrel, we may resume the rapid sketch of
operations in China itself.
When, at about the middle of May 1857, Viscount Canning received news at
Calcutta of the disasters at Meerut and Delhi, he instantly, as we have
seen in a former chapter,[194] transmitted telegraphic messages to
Bombay, Ceylon, and Madras. He inquired whether the Earl of Elgin and
General Ashburnham had arrived at either of those stations, on their way
to China; and made earnest applications that the troops sent from
England to China might be diverted from that route, and despatched to
Calcutta instead. Canning and Elgin had both been intrusted by their
sovereign with extensive powers; both, when they came to communicate,
saw that the events in India were more critical than those in China; and
both were of opinion that the Queen’s troops were more wanted on the
Jumna and Ganges than on the Canton or Pekin rivers. Hence arose an
almost entire stoppage of the operations in the China seas till towards
the close of the year. The slight events that marked the summer and
autumn may be noticed in a few brief paragraphs.
Towards the close of May, before any considerable reinforcements could
reach China, an attack was made by the British on a fleet of Chinese
war-junks with very considerable effect. One of the many channels which
the Canton river presents, called by the English Escape Creek, being
known to contain a large fleet of junks, Commodore Elliot was ordered to
make a vigorous demonstration in that quarter. On the 25th he entered
the creek, with the _Hong-kong_, _Bustard_, _Staunch_, _Starling_, and
_Forbes_, towing boats filled with men from the _Inflexible_, _Hornet_,
and _Tribune_. He found forty-one mandarin junks, all heavily armed,
moored across the creek; a brisk engagement ensued; and it was not until
after the loss of many men, on the 25th and two following days, that the
junks were destroyed.
The month of June opened with an engagement of more importance—the
battle of Fatshan. This city is about seven miles distant in a straight
line from Canton, but lying upon a different affluent of the Canton
river. The expedition was not so much against Fatshan itself, as against
a fleet of junks lying in the Fatshan branch or channel. Sir Michael
Seymour himself accompanied this expedition. The channel was too narrow
to admit any except small-craft; and therefore the work was to be done
by gun-boats and row-boats. At three in the morning of the 1st of June
the expedition started forth, the _Coromandel_ towing three hundred
marines in open boats. Many heavily armed forts line the Fatshan creek
near the city, and these speedily opened fire as the boats advanced.
When the _Coromandel_ had nearly reached the town, the _Hong-kong_,
_Haughty_, _Bustard_, _Forester_, _Plover_, _Opossum_, and other
gun-boats, steamed up, each having its few but formidable guns, and each
towing ships’ boats full of ‘blue-jackets.’ The men landed at the foot
of a hill which was crowned with a fort mounting twenty large guns, and
which from that day was called Fort Seymour. The rush up the hill was
exciting; commodores, captains, lieutenants, seamen, marines, all ran
up, equally regardless of danger; and after a few rounds from the fort’s
guns, the Chinese, dismayed at the boldness of the English, took flight,
and ran away from their guns. The assailants then hastened to attack the
junks, which, mounting twelve guns each, were able to pour forth a
tremendous fire of shot and shell. How the British escaped with so
little loss in this encounter is a marvel. The seamen were in ecstasies
at the boldness of the duty assigned to them. The boats’ crews baffled
the shots from so many hundred guns by rowing right up to the junks,
_beneath_ the line of fire of the guns; and when there, they did not
cease till they had set fire to the junks, from which the crews escaped
precipitately over the opposite sides. Out of the seventy-two junks,
sixty-seven were destroyed.
Anxious were the speculations whether these renewed successes would or
would not lead to any decisive termination of the struggle. Bowring and
Parkes among the civilians, Seymour and Elliot among the naval
commanders, knew well enough that without a military force this could
not be done. They knew, moreover, that until the Earl of Elgin should
arrive, they could not be placed fully in possession of the views of the
home-government. They anxiously counted the days before the new arrivals
would be announced. The Earl of Elgin and General Ashburnham were at
Bombay on the day when the disastrous news from Meerut and Delhi reached
that city. The general went on to Hong-kong, where he arrived on the
10th of June; but the earl, after reaching Singapore, gave orders that
two of the approaching regiments should be diverted from the Chinese
expedition to the service of Viscount Canning. This was ominous of the
cessation of any effective operations on the China coast. Elgin,
moreover, issued orders that, if Canning should make pressing
application for more aid, other regiments should be similarly diverted
to Calcutta. Meanwhile, at Canton, Yeh remained as impassable as ever;
he did not yield an inch. The rich were flying from the city, the poor
were half starved by the stoppage of all trade; nevertheless these
miseries, bad enough to the Chinese themselves, did not improve the
position of the English.
Early in July the Earl of Elgin arrived in the _Shannon_ war-steamer. A
large staff of military officers had now assembled at Hong-kong; but
there was nothing for them to do, seeing that the regiments had not
arrived, nor did it appear probable how soon Canning could spare them. A
fleet and a staff of military officers were now in the Canton river
almost in a state of idleness. The active correspondent of the _Times_,
having no fighting to witness, made those rambling visits to Shang-hae
and elsewhere which enabled him to give so graphic an account of the
Chinese in their homes and shops and places of amusement. On the 13th
the French admiral arrived at Hong-kong, to confer with Elgin on the
policy to be pursued. At first there was an intention of steaming up to
the Pei-ho river, on which the imperial city of Pekin stands, to bring
the emperor to a conference. Within a few days, however, an urgent
dispatch arrived from Viscount Canning, announcing that the revolt was
spreading widely in India, and asking for further aid. The Earl of Elgin
at once changed his plan. He set off to Calcutta, taking with him a
force of fifteen hundred seamen and marines, mostly belonging to the
_Shannon_ and _Pearl_ war-steamers. It was these hardy men who
constituted the ‘Naval Brigades’ so often mentioned in past chapters of
this work, and in service with which the gallant Captain Sir William
Peel met his death. Elgin’s determination was arrived at in part from
this circumstance—that Baron Gros, the French high-commissioner or
plenipotentiary, was not expected at Hong-kong until September; and that
any negotiations at Pekin would be weakened in force unless the two
countries acted in conjunction through their respective representatives.
August found the English officers and seamen very little satisfied with
their position and duties in the Chinese waters. An occasional junk-hunt
was all that occurred to break the monotony. Of fighting, such as
men-of-war’s men would dignify by the name, there was little or none.
Yeh continued to govern Canton; the Cantonese continued to suffer by the
suspension of their trade with the British. The four northern ports
managed to retain a trade which was very lucrative to them—selling tea
and silk to the English, and buying opium, which the Chinese dealers
sold again at an enormous profit in the upper or inner provinces. As for
the emperor at Pekin, the English authorities at Hong-kong had no means
of determining to what extent he was cognizant of affairs in the south,
nor how far he sanctioned the immovable line of policy followed by his
viceroy at Canton.
In the early part of September, Yeh took advantage of the lull in
warlike operations; he built more junks, cast more cannon, raised up
several guns which had been sunk by the English, and collected a fleet
of two hundred war-junks in the Canton and Fatshan waters, ready to
encounter the ‘barbarians’ again in time of need. As a means of
ascertaining what was in progress in this quarter, Commodore Elliot set
forth from Hong-kong to make a reconnaissance. He started up the Canton
river on the 9th, taking with him the gun-boats _Starling_, _Haughty_,
and _Forester_, and the heavy boats of the _Sybille_ and _Highflyer_. He
steamed through some of the channels, which are so numerous as to
convert the banks of the river into a veritable archipelago, difficult
to explore on account of the shallowness of the water in the channels.
He met with a vast array of trading-junks, which he did not molest
because they were engaged in peaceful commerce; and a few war-junks,
which he destroyed; but he did not reach any spot where war-junks in
large numbers were congregated. One event of this month was the
appearance of Russia on the scene. Admiral Count Putiatine, who had been
appointed governor of the Russian province of Amoor, and who had made a
rapid overland journey from St Petersburg to the mouth of the Amoor in
seventy days, steamed from that river to the Pei-ho on a diplomatic
mission. The purport of this mission was not revealed to the English;
but there were many at Hong-kong who surmised that Russia, like the
United States, was secretly planning that a goodly share of any
contingent advantages arising from the struggle should fall to
her—leaving all the odium of hostilities on the shoulders of England and
France.
When October arrived, the stormy state of the China seas rendered it
doubtful how soon the Earl of Elgin’s diplomatic expedition to Pekin
would take place. The British community at Hong-kong rather rejoiced at
this; for they had all along advocated the simple formula—take Canton
first, and negotiate with the emperor afterwards. The earl’s intention
to postpone his visit becoming clearly known, many of the staff-officers
who had been in enforced idleness at Hong-kong took their departure—some
to Calcutta, some to other places. When Baron Gros arrived in the
_Audacieuse_, which was not until the middle of October, the talk of the
fleet was that Canton would be really and effectually besieged, as a
preliminary to any proceedings further north. The _Imperador_ arrived
towards the close of the month, bringing five hundred marines direct
from England; and large accessions of warlike stores denoted a
resolution on the part of the government to bring about some definite
termination of this Chinese quarrel.
In November, General Ashburnham, apparently tired of doing nothing in
China, gave up the military command and went to India, where a proffer
of his services was courteously declined by Lord Canning and Sir Colin
Campbell. His sudden return to England, without leave, gave rise to much
comment in and out of parliament. General Straubenzee now became
military commander in China, that is, commander of the British troops
whenever they should arrive. Captain Sherard Osborne was collecting
gun-boats from various quarters. Baron Gros undertook that France would
operate in the capture of Canton, with three frigates, two corvettes,
and four gun-boats, containing altogether about a thousand men. Mr Reed
arrived in the _Minnesota_, as American commissioner to represent the
interests of his country, but without any intention of taking part in
the hostile demonstration. Throughout the whole affair, indeed, the
United States ‘fraternised’ much more freely with Russia than with
England and France.
At length the month arrived (December 1857) which was to witness the
conquest of Canton. At the beginning of this month the European
war-vessels in Chinese waters were really formidable in number. Besides
the _Calcutta_ (80), there were, including everything from
steam-frigates down to gun-boats, a total of 70 European and American
war-vessels, of which no less than 49 were British. On the 12th of the
month, the Earl of Elgin sent a formal letter to Commissioner
Yeh—announcing his arrival as ambassador extraordinary from Queen
Victoria to the Emperor of China, and as plenipotentiary to settle all
existing differences; expressing the pleasure which England would feel
in being on friendly terms with China; enumerating the causes of
complaint against the Chinese authorities; demanding ‘the complete
execution at Canton of all treaty engagements, including the free
admission of British subjects into the city,’ and ‘compensation to
British subjects and persons entitled to British protection for losses
incurred in consequence of the late disturbances;’ threatening a seizure
of Canton if these terms were not acceded to; and hinting that the terms
would in that case be rendered much more severe. On the 14th Yeh sent a
reply, very tortuous and cunning, justifying the conduct of himself and
his countrymen, but evading any direct notice of Elgin’s demand and
threat. On the 24th the British plenipotentiary wrote to announce that,
as his desire for a peaceful termination of the dispute had not been
properly met, he should at once prepare for war. The next day
(Christmas-day) brought a second letter from Yeh, repeating his former
arguments in a very discursive fashion, but evading everything in the
way of concession.
When December had brought what few troops the home-government and Lord
Canning thought they could spare for China, the available numbers
appeared as follow—800 men of various services, principally of the 59th
foot, from the garrison of Hong-kong; 2500 marines belonging to the
various ships; 1500 naval brigade formed from the ships’ crews for
service on shore; and 900 French troops and seamen—making a total of
5700 men. These were aided by about 1000 Chinese and Malay coolies, as
carriers and labourers—men who readily sold their patriotism for silver
and copper. On the 16th, while the attempt at negotiation with Yeh was
still going on, the English and French took possession of Honan, as a
measure of precaution. This is an island just opposite Canton; its shore
forms the Southwark of the great city. The merchants and traders were
allowed all possible facilities for removing their families and goods
from such buildings as the captors chose to appropriate—the wish being
to inflict as small an amount of suffering as possible on the Chinese
people, whom the Earl of Elgin carefully distinguished from the Chinese
government. From the 16th to the 23d, steamers and gun-boats were daily
arriving, and taking up positions mostly between Canton and the island.
On the 22d a council was held, at which the Earl of Elgin and Baron
Gros, having virtually declared war against China, gave up the command
of the operations to the general and the two admirals—namely, General
Straubenzee, Admiral Sir Michael Seymour, and Admiral R. de Genouilly.
On the 23d, several military and naval officers steamed in gun-boats
past the whole length of the city, landed at a point beyond its
northwestern extremity, walked a mile and a half under the escort of a
party of marines and sailors, mounted a hill, made accurate observations
on a series of forts north of the city, and returned without the loss of
a man. On the 24th there was a similar reconnaissance east and northeast
of the city. These examinations satisfied the officers that the capture
of the northern forts must be made from the east rather than the west.
Christmas-day and the two following days were spent in making
preparations for the bombardment; and in distributing papers along the
shore, announcing to the Cantonese what calamity was in store for their
city if Yeh did not yield before midnight on the 27th. The viceroy
remained as immovable as ever, and so the terrible work began.
At daylight on the morning of the 28th of December the guns opened fire.
Their number was enormous—some in war-steamers, some in gun-boats, some
on Honan Island, some in the captured forts. The general orders were to
fire at various parts of the city-wall, and over the city to the
northern forts, but to work as little mischief as possible to the
inhabited streets. Meanwhile the troops, marines, and naval brigade
gradually effected a landing at about a mile from the eastern extremity
of the city; they landed guns and vast quantities of stores and
ammunition, and then proceeded by regular siege-operations to capture
all the forts on the northern side of the city—the bombardment of the
southern and western wall still continuing. These fearful operations
continued throughout the last four days of the year, during which an
immense number of fragile wooden buildings were burned—not purposely,
but of necessity. The Chinese soldiers did not shew in any vast numbers,
nor did they display much heroism; the assailants conquered one fort
after another, until they held the whole of the eastern and northern
margin of the city—having free communication with their ships by a line
of route to their unmolested landing-place. Great as was the amount of
burning of wooden tenements, the loss of life was very small; the allied
killed and wounded were less than 150, and the Chinese loss was believed
to be not more than double that number—so careful had the soldiers and
sailors been to avoid bringing slaughter into a place containing a
million of human beings.
Rarely has a city been held under a more singular tenure than Canton was
held by the English and French on New-year’s Day 1858. They were masters
of all the defences, and naturally inferred that the city would formally
yield. Nothing of the kind, however, took place. The Cantonese resumed
trade in their streets and shops, but Yeh and his officers kept wholly
out of sight. The ordinary usages of war were ignored by this singular
people. Elgin, Gros, Straubenzee, Seymour, Genouilly—all came to the
captured forts on the northern heights, and all were perplexed how to
deal with these impassible Cantonese. On the 2d of January and two
following days the captors lived in much discomfort on the heights; but
on the 5th a very decided advance was made. Mr Parkes, and a few other
Englishmen who were familiar with the Chinese language, had been busily
engaged collecting information concerning the hiding-places of the
dignitaries within the city; and, acting on the information thus
obtained, Straubenzee sent several strongly armed parties into different
districts of the city. The results were very important. The explorers
captured Commissioner Yeh, the lieutenant-governor Peh-kwei, the Tatar
general of the Chinese forces in and near Canton, fifty-two boxes of
dollars in the treasury, and sixty-eight packages of silver ingots.
From the 5th of January to the 10th of February the city was placed
under very anomalous government. In the first place, Yeh was sent as a
sort of prisoner to Calcutta. In the next place, Yeh’s palace became the
head-quarters of the allied authorities; while other large buildings
were appropriated as barracks. The Earl of Elgin decided that the Tatar
general and the lieutenant-governor of Canton should be liberated. The
general, Tseang-keun, was obliged to disarm and disband his troops, as a
condition of his liberation. Elgin thought it prudent that Peh-kwei
should be formally made governor of the city, to save it from pillage.
On the 9th the installation of this functionary took place, in the
presence of Elgin, Gros, Bowring, Parkes, Straubenzee, Seymour,
Genouilly, and other officials. Colonel Holloway, Captain Martineau, and
Mr Parkes were appointed commissioners, or a council of three, to assist
Peh-kwei in his municipal duties. The city now became safely traversable
by the English and French without much danger; the Chinese soldiers were
disbanded; and the citizens were willing enough to go on with such trade
as was left to them. The council of three insisted on organising an
efficient street-police; on expediting the administration of justice; on
visiting all the prisons; and on liberating such wretched captives as
appeared to have been unjustly incarcerated. Although Peh-kwei protested
loudly against this interference with his supreme authority, he was
obliged to submit. This period was a saturnalia for pirates; the regular
government being subverted, thousands of lawless men on the river
carried on with impunity that system of piracy and plunder which the
numerous creeks around Canton rendered so practicable. When this became
fully known to the authorities now in the ascendant, Sir Michael Seymour
put in force a severe measure of attack and reprisal against them.
How far the objects of the war had been attained, remained still a
problem. Canton, it is true, was seized; but the imperial court at Pekin
was invisible and inaccessible, and much evidently remained yet to be
done. On the 10th of February the blockade was raised. The Canton river
was speedily swarming with trading junks; the Honan warehouses were
reopened and refilled; British merchants resumed their dealings with
Chinese merchants; and within a few days many million pounds of tea were
on their way to England. Shortly after the removal of the blockade, the
Earl of Elgin and Baron Gros opened communications with Count Putiatine
and Mr Reed; they proposed, in the names of England and France, that
Russia and the United States should take part in the demands still
necessary to be made upon the Emperor of China. These overtures were
promptly met; but it must in justice be stated that, in the subsequent
operations and negotiations for obtaining treaties, the Russian and
American plenipotentiaries adopted a more secret and selfish policy than
comported with the liberal offer made on the part of England and France.
Elgin and Gros determined that Canton should remain in their power until
full and satisfactory treaties had been obtained from the emperor. It
affords a curious illustration of the indomitable perseverance of the
English newspaper press, that the _Times_ correspondent, Mr Wingrove
Cooke, after seeing all the fighting in the Canton waters, and incurring
as much hazard as his colleague Mr Russell had incurred in similar
duties in the Crimea, contrived to obtain a passage in the ship (the
_Inflexible_) which conveyed Yeh to Calcutta, and to draw forth many
peculiarities in the character of that redoubtable Chinaman—a personage
who, through the columns of that newspaper, soon became familiarly known
in nearly every part of the globe; a man whose shipboard life was thus
summed up, ‘he eats a great deal, sleeps a great deal, and washes very
little.’
Early in March, after the forwarding to Pekin of official dispatches
under such circumstances as to render probable their receipt by the
emperor, Elgin and Gros moved towards the north. This conveyance of
letters was, as is usual in the Celestial Empire, a most complicated
affair. Mr Lawrence Oliphant, the Earl of Elgin’s private secretary, and
Viscount de Contades, secretary of legation to Baron Gros, went from
Canton to Shang-hae, bearing letters from the English and French
plenipotentiaries, and also from those of America and Russia. After
reaching Shang-hae, and being joined by the British, French, and
American consuls, they pushed on in boats up the river, on whose banks
stands the city of Soo-choo, the capital of that part of China. The
governor endeavoured by every means to avoid an interview; but as the
messengers would not be refused, he received them with an unwilling
courtesy, and undertook to forward their letters to Pekin. The envoys
then returned to Shang-hae. Certain arrangements were now made for the
safety of Canton and Hong-kong, and vast stores were sent up to
Shang-hae, in preparation for any contingencies. The Earl of Elgin and
his suite, on their way to Shang-hae, sojourned for a while at
Fuh-choo-foo. All the plenipotentiaries arrived at Shang-hae during the
latter half of the month. They received answers from the court of Pekin
to their several letters. The Chinese authorities endeavoured so to
treat the subject as to keep the plenipotentiaries as far away from
Pekin as possible. They alleged that, whether Yeh had or had not misused
his authority at Canton, he was now dismissed, and was replaced by a
viceroy who would be ready to listen to any reasonable representations;
they recommended that the English and French plenipotentiaries had
better return to the south, there to resume their superintendence of
peaceful commerce; that the Russians should return to the north, and the
Americans remain quietly at the trading ports. These replies did not
purport to come from the emperor, who was too lofty a personage to
recognise the plenipotentiaries; they came through the governor of the
Shang-hae province, and were worded in the customary style of Chinese
magniloquence.
The month of April found the Chinese quarrel apparently as far from
solution as ever. The advice of the imperial authorities, that they
should keep away from Pekin, and attend to their trading affairs, was
not likely to be followed by the plenipotentiaries—one of whom, at any
rate, had come from Europe for a far different purpose. Affairs did not
progress very favourably at Canton. Pirates continued to infest the
river; while an army of rebels—equally hostile to the imperialists and
to the ‘barbarians’—was marching towards the city from the interior.
Many of the inhabitants, rendered uneasy by the strange confusion in the
government and ownership of their city, fled from Canton. The English
merchants found their trading arrangements sadly checked by these
sources of disquietude; and they sighed for the return of those times
when opium, and tea, and silk brought them large profits. Finding, as
they had all along surmised, that nothing effectual could be done except
in the immediate vicinity of Pekin, the plenipotentiaries took their
departure from Shang-hae, and steamed northward. Count Putiatine, in the
_America_ steamer, anchored off the Pei-ho river on the 14th; a few
hours afterwards arrived the _Furious_ and the _Leven_, in the former of
which was the Earl of Elgin; Mr Reed, in the _Mississippi_, made his
appearance on the 16th; Baron Gros, in the _Audaiceuse_, joined his
brother-plenipotentiaries on the 23d; and Admirals Seymour and Genouilly
arrived on the 24th. Letters were now sent off to Pekin, demanding the
appointment of an official of high rank to meet the representatives of
the four courts, to confer on the matters in dispute; and allowing six
days for the return of an answer. This decisive step produced a more
immediate effect than any course yet adopted; the emperor, unless wholly
deceived by those around him, had now ample means of knowing that a
formidable armament was at the mouth of the river on whose banks the
imperial city is situated, and that Russia and America had joined
England and France in this demonstration. Before the six days had
expired, a messenger arrived to announce that Tao, or Tān,
governor-general of the province, had been appointed as envoy to meet
the plenipotentiaries. Meanwhile, the month of May was a troubled one in
Canton. The new governor Hwang, and the lieutenant-governor Peh-kwei,
were frequently detected in manœuvres not quite satisfactory to the
English and French officers left in charge of the city. Many of the
Cantonese themselves believed that Hwang had received secret orders from
Pekin to retake Canton while the allies were engaged in the northern
waters. There were machinations at Pekin, rebel armies in the inner
provinces, restless Tatars in the Canton province, pirates in the river,
and unreliable Chinese authorities everywhere; insomuch that the
continuance of quietude in the city was very problematical. During the
month, about 1200 sepoys arrived from Calcutta; they had belonged to the
47th and 65th Bengal native infantry, disarmed in India as a matter of
precaution, but not implicated in actual mutiny; the 70th had preceded
them, and had behaved steadily in China.
The Earl of Elgin and Baron Gros experienced the customary difficulty in
bringing the Chinese to anything like a candid agreement or
understanding. The new envoy, Tao, was long in making his appearance;
and when he did appear, his powers of treating were found to be so
limited, and his attempts at evasion so many, that the aid of
cannon-balls was again found to be necessary. Steamers were quickly sent
down to Shang-hae, Hong-kong, and Canton, for reinforcements; and on the
20th of May hostile operations began. The banks of the Pei-ho being
defended by forts, these forts were attacked one by one, and captured.
The plenipotentiaries were by this means enabled to advance higher up
the river, increasing their chance of a direct communication with the
authorities at Pekin. The Chinese had not been idle; for throughout the
month they had been seen drilling their troops in the forts, and sinking
junks to bar the navigation of the river; but the gun-boats which the
English and French had now brought up, and the boats of the war-ships,
made light of these obstructions. The Russian and American ambassadors
were pretty well satisfied with the trading concessions offered to them
by the Chinese authorities; but the English and French were determined
to be satisfied with nothing less than a definite settlement of all the
points in dispute; and hence the attack on the forts, which evidently
produced an immense excitement higher up the river.
June began with a battle, or at least, a skirmish, outside
Canton—shewing that a peaceful occupation of that city was not readily
to be looked for. A military force of ‘braves’ or Chinese soldiers
having gradually been approaching from the north, General Straubenzee
deemed it necessary to encounter and crush or disperse them at once. On
the 2d, accompanied by Mr Parkes, he started off to the hills on the
north of the city, having with him about a thousand men supplied with
three days’ rations. The braves, who were soon met with, kept up a
skirmishing fight all day on the 3d, and then retired without much loss.
Straubenzee returned to Canton on the 4th, also without much loss in
actual fighting; but his soldiers had been stricken down in considerable
number by the terrible heat of the sun. The expedition was scarcely to
be considered satisfactory; for the braves were still hovering among the
hills, very little disheartened by their defeat. As the month advanced,
the state of affairs at Canton became worse and worse. Rockets were
frequently fired at night into the posts held by the allies; the suburbs
were full of armed ruffians ready for any mischief; the streets became
unsafe to Europeans unless armed or guarded; occasional attacks were
made on the police, and even on the sentries; headless bodies of
Europeans were sometimes found in the river; two or three sailors were
waylaid, cut down, and carried off; and placards were posted up about
the city, couched in the most ferocious language against the ‘foreign
devils.’ One of these placards designated the British consul as ‘the
red-haired barbarian Parkes.’
The state of affairs further north, during this month of June, was more
favourable. The destruction of the forts on the banks of the Pei-ho had
the effect of bringing the Chinese authorities again into a disposition
for negotiation. The river was carefully examined from Ta-koo up to
Tien-sing—a city of 300,000 inhabitants, situated on the high road to
Pekin, at a point where the Great Canal of China enters the Pei-ho. The
four plenipotentiaries steamed up to Tien-sing, where they were allowed
to remain: seeing that the Chinese government, paralysed by the capture
of the forts, no longer made an attempt to obstruct them. Governor Tao
was dismissed, for having managed matters badly; and two mandarins of
high rank, Kwei-liang and Hwa-sha-na, were appointed to negotiate with
the barbarians. The plenipotentiaries took up their abode on shore, in a
house provided by the mandarins; and a renewed series of negotiations
commenced. Meanwhile, all hostilities were suspended; the war-junks and
the gun-boats remained peacefully at anchor, and the trading-junks were
allowed to pass up and down the river. About the middle of the month,
some of the inhabitants of Tien-sing manifested a disposition to molest
the plenipotentiaries and their suites; whereupon Sir Michael Seymour
ordered up a few seamen and marines—who, perambulating the walls and
streets of the city for a few hours, gave such a check to the citizens
as to induce a more peaceful demeanour. One of the first definite
results of the conferences which now ensued, was a treaty between China
and the United States, signed on the 18th of June by Mr Reed and the two
Chinese mandarins. America had from the first sought to obtain the best
terms for herself, without much consideration for the other powers; and
as her demeanour was more courteous than threatening, more submissive
than dignified; as, moreover, her demands were not so extensive as those
of England—she found less difficulty in settling the terms of a
commercial treaty, which would open up a door for increased American
trading with China; and with this Mr Reed was well satisfied. Count
Putiatine about the same date signed a treaty as the representative of
Russia. The policy of his court was to keep the other great powers as
far from Pekin as possible, in order that nothing might check the
gradual growth of Russian influence on the northern frontier of the
Chinese empire. The terms of the Russian treaty were far more important
than those of the American; they included the cession to Russia of a
large area of country near the mouth of the great river Amoor, and of an
amount of trading privileges such as had never before been conceded by
China to any other country whatever.
[Illustration:
HONG-KONG.
]
The English and French treaties, especially the former, being more
comprehensive in their character, could not be settled so readily as the
American. Commissioner Key-ing, who had concluded the treaty of Nankin
with Sir Henry Pottinger in 1842, was sent from Pekin to Tien-sing to
assist Kwei-hang and Hwa-sha-na in the present instance; but the Earl of
Elgin, seeing that Key-ing was disposed for a course of cunning and
trickery, refused to treat with him; and the negotiations were left to
the other two commissioners. All difficulties being gradually removed by
three weeks of negotiation, treaties were at length signed on the 26th
and 27th of June respectively by the Earl of Elgin and Baron Gros, with
the two Chinese commissioners. The provisions were nearly the same for
England and for France, except an indemnity to be given to the former
nation for the expenses of the war and for certain losses incurred by
the merchants. The more important clauses of the English treaty may be
thus thrown into a summary: Confirmation of the former Treaty of
Nankin—Agreement to appoint British ambassador at Pekin, and Chinese
ambassador at London—Family and suite of British ambassador to have
residence and security at Pekin, and facilities for travelling,
transaction of business, and transmission of letters—British ambassador
to correspond on terms of equality with the Chinese minister for foreign
affairs—Christianity, whether Protestant or Catholic, to be tolerated,
and Christian missionaries protected throughout the Chinese
Empire—British subjects permitted to trade and to travel in the
interior—Chin-kiang, on the great river Yang-tsze-kiang; Niuchwang, in
Manchooria; Tang-choo, in the Gulf of Pe-che-lee; Tae-wan, in the island
of Formosa; Swatow and Kiung-choo, in the island of Hainan, to be
declared free ports; in addition to Canton, Amoy, Fuh-choo-foo, Ning-po,
and Shang-hae, the five already opened; and in addition, also, to three
other ports on the Yang-tsze-kiang, as soon as they should be freed from
rebels—An Anglo-Chinese commission to prepare a commercial tariff, which
is to be revised every ten years—Inland transit dues to be commuted for
an _ad valorem_ rate—Official correspondence to be conducted in English
as the text or original, with a Chinese translation as an
accompaniment—The Chinese character or symbol denoting ‘barbarian’ to be
in future omitted in Chinese official documents relating to
foreigners—British ships-of-war permitted to visit any ports in the
empire, and their commanders to be treated on terms of equality by the
Chinese officials—Both nations to assist in suppressing piracy in
Chinese waters—Amount of indemnity to be settled by a separate article.
The Earl of Elgin would not quit Tien-sing until he had clearly
ascertained that the emperor understood and accepted the terms of the
treaty: this done, he returned on the 6th of July to Shang-hae.
It is impossible to avoid seeing that such a treaty, if faithfully
carried out, would greatly revolutionise the commercial and social
institutions of China. If British ships-of-war be permitted to visit any
of the ports, and trading-ships have free entry to nearly a dozen of the
number; if the great Yang-tsze-kiang be made a channel up which British
manufactures may penetrate; if Christian missionaries may teach and
preach, print and distribute, without opposition from the government; if
a British official may reside at the imperial city, and the Chinese
emperor condescend to appoint an ambassador to London; finally, if the
vain assumption of superiority be discontinued in Chinese official
documents relating to the English—an immense advance will have been made
towards bringing China into the fraternity of nations. The great doubt
was, whether so vast a change would not be too extensive to be made at
once—too humiliating, in the Chinese view, for the imperial government
to adopt in its integrity: especially as the British did not offer to
assist the emperor against the rebels who ravaged his dominions. It was
not expected that the formalities of ratification could all be completed
before the summer of 1859. The Hon. Mr Bruce, brother to the Earl of
Elgin, conveyed the treaty to England. No sooner was the tenor of the
treaty known, than English merchants began to make inquiries and
calculations concerning increased exports, of salt and other
commodities, to the China seas. The indemnity question was felt to be
one which could not be settled without long delay, in treating with so
peculiar a people as the Chinese. Commissioners on both sides were to
decide how much should be paid by China, for injury inflicted on British
property at Canton, and for the expenses of the British expedition; they
were also to decide on the revised tariff for imports and exports.
While the terms of this treaty were being settled at Tien-sing, the
state of Canton became more and more disturbed. Street-murders were very
frequent; bags of gunpowder were exploded in the streets, at moments
when patrols were expected to pass; and missiles were hurled, from
unseen quarters, into all parts of the city where Europeans resided.
Many of the more peaceful citizens left Canton, and their houses were at
once seized by ruffians, who posted up proclamations of most
ultra-Chinese character. One of these proclamations was to the effect
that, ‘We have ascertained that there are only two or three thousand
English and French dogs in the city; but our numbers are thousands on
thousands; and if every one of us carry but a sword to kill every
foreigner that we meet, we shall soon kill them all. If any one trade or
supply provisions to the foreign dogs, we shall arrest and punish him
according to the village regulations. All those who are in the employ of
the foreign dogs must leave their employment in one month’—and terrible
denunciations were hurled against all those who should disobey these
behests. General Straubenzee and the other officials were much perplexed
how to deal with this state of things; they began to fear that nothing
less than a bombardment of the city would drive out the ‘braves,’ and
restore peaceful trade; and yet it would be an anomaly to use cannon and
muskets, beheading and imprisonment, against the subjects of an emperor
with whom we had just made a treaty of peace. In this exigency, Sir John
Bowring caused large posting-bills to be printed in Chinese—announcing
that a treaty of peace had been signed between the two countries; that
all animosity ought now to cease; that many Chinese, hitherto residing
at Hong-kong as servants and traders, had been frightened away by
threatening proclamations from some of the authorities on the mainland;
that surreptitious attempts had been made to check the supply of
provisions to Hong-kong; and that many inconveniences had thence arisen.
The placard proceeded to warn all persons and communities against any
interference with the peaceful resumption of commerce between the two
nations. An attempt to distribute this placard or proclamation was
clumsily made, and led to disaster. Two British officers, knowing the
Chinese language, went with a few seamen in the gun-boat _Starling_, to
the coast of the mainland nearly opposite the island of Hong-kong. Some
difficulty being experienced in obtaining an interview with the official
authorities, the sailors landed under a flag of truce, and attempted to
post up the placards in the water-side suburbs of the town of Namtow;
they were, however, attacked by Chinese soldiery, and driven back to the
gun-boat, with the loss of one of their number and the wounding of
another.
This untoward failure of course led to further fighting. As the attack
made by the Chinese on the sailors was in defiance of a flag of truce,
Sir John Bowring deemed himself justified in inflicting a punishment on
the town. He made a requisition to General Straubenzee, who thereupon
organised a small expeditionary force. He selected 700 men—59th foot,
artillery, engineers, marines, and naval brigade—who were commanded by
himself and Commodore Keith Stewart. They landed near Namtow on the 11th
of August, and gave notice to the inhabitants that no injury would be
done to them if they remained neutral; the attack being intended against
the ‘braves’ or Chinese soldiers, who had originated the contest. Within
a few hours a fort was attacked, the Chinese troops driven out, the fort
destroyed, and two large brass guns brought away as trophies. The object
in view was, not to injure the town or the inhabitants, but to prove to
the authorities that any disregard of a flag of truce would subject them
to a hostile demonstration.
Throughout these strange operations, in which war and peace were so
oddly mingled—the one prevailing at Namtow, the other at Tien-sing—the
city of Canton continued in a disturbed state. On the 21st of July, the
‘braves’ outside the city went so far as to plan an attack for the
expulsion of the English and French altogether from the place. They were
speedily beaten off. As before, however, it was a discomfiture, not a
suppression; for the braves settled down in an encampment about four
miles from Canton, ready for any exigencies. During a considerable time
after the signing of the treaty at Tien-sing, Governor Whang either did
not know of it, or else disregarded it; but in the course of the month
of August, evidence gradually appeared that he had been officially
informed of the treaty. He forbade the braves to make any further
attacks. Many Chinese traders, who had been driven in disquietude from
Canton, now returned; and Hong-kong began again to look out for Chinese
servants and work-people. Governor Whang’s proclamation, dated August
17th, contained a statement which bore an aspect of considerable
probability: ‘There are, both within and without the city, many villains
and thieves who, pretending they are braves, take advantage of the state
of affairs to create disturbances in order to plunder and rob, and from
whose hands the citizens have suffered much. If such rascality be not
speedily suppressed, how can the minds of the people be set at ease, or
tranquillity restored? And unless the villains be apprehended, how can
the districts be purged?’ Wherefore he gave orders for the suppression
of violence and hostile manifestations.
During the months of September and October—with the exception of a
stroke of diplomacy at Japan, presently to be adverted to—Lord Elgin
remained in the China seas, chiefly at Shang-hae, waiting for the
Chinese commissioners who were to settle with him the minor details
supplementary to the treaty. Former experience having shewn that the
Chinese authorities viewed the obligations of a treaty somewhat lightly,
it was not deemed prudent either to give up Canton, or to withdraw the
powerful naval force from the China coast, until all the conditions of
the treaty had been put in a fair train for fulfilment. Canton gradually
recovered its trade and quietude; Hong-kong gradually got back its
Chinese servants and artisans; and the English fleet vigorously put in
operation that clause of the treaty which related to the suppression of
piracy. Expeditions were fitted out from Hong-kong, which captured and
destroyed hundreds of piratical junks.
One of the most remarkable episodes in this remarkable Chinese war bore
relation to Japan—an empire consisting of many islands, lying
northeastward of China. Until a few years ago, the Japanese traded only
with the Chinese and the Dutch. The Dutch were allowed to establish a
trading station on the small island of Desima, which was connected with
the larger island of Kiusiu or Kioosioo by a bridge. At the Kiusiu end
of the bridge was the city of Nagasaki or Nangasaki, with the
inhabitants of which only the Dutch were allowed to trade. One ship
annually, and one only, was permitted to come to Desima from Java,
bringing sugar, ivory, tin, lead, bar-iron, fine chintzes, and a few
other commodities, and conveying away in exchange copper, camphor,
lackered-wood ware, porcelain, rice, soy, &c. The Chinese, like the
Dutch, were confined to the little island opposite Nagasaki, but their
trading privileges were greater; at three different periods of the year
they were wont to send laden junks from Amoy, Ning-po, and Shang-hae,
and exchange Chinese commodities for Japanese. Such was the state of
matters until a short time previous to the Russo-Turkish war; when the
United States, taking advantage of an insult offered to American ships,
induced or compelled the Japanese government to permit intercourse
between the two countries, to be conducted at certain ports under
certain regulations. Some time afterwards, similar privileges were
accorded to Russia and England. The convention with England, signed at
Nagasaki on the 9th of October 1855, provided for very little more than
this—that British ships might resort to the three ports of Nagasaki,
Simoda, and Hakodadi, for the purpose of effecting repairs, and
obtaining fresh water, provisions, and such supplies as they might
absolutely need. It was a denial of such aid to distressed ships that
had led the United States to threaten the Japanese. France, not to be
left behind by other nations, sent an expedition to obtain shipping
privileges similar to those conceded to America, England, and Russia. On
the 25th of May 1856, M. de Montravel presented himself before the
governor of Nagasaki, accompanied by rather an imposing array of
officers; he had no difficulty in procuring the desired concession. On
the 11th of December in the same year, two British merchant-ships, about
to enter the harbour at Nagasaki, to purchase certain supplies, were
refused admission; whereupon the two captains sailed up close to the
town, landed, and marched with a strong escort to the residence of the
governor. He declined to receive them, but undertook that any letter
from them should be conveyed to the emperor at Jedo or Yedo, the capital
of Japan. This letter obtained the desired result; an imperial edict
being issued on January 26, 1857, that ships from any of the four
nations might enter Nagasaki as well as the other two ports—provided
that none of the crews attempted to penetrate into the interior. This
letter was, in fact, nothing more than the carrying out of an agreement,
which the governor of Nagasaki had on a former occasion evaded. On the
17th of June 1857, Mr Townshend Harris, acting under the United States
consul at Hong-kong, signed a treaty at Simoda with two Japanese
commissioners. This treaty was a great advance, in commercial
liberality, on anything previously known in that region.
Thus matters remained until the autumn of 1858; when, expeditions to
China having been sent from England, France, Russia, and America,
advantage was taken of the proximity of Japan to obtain by and for the
first three countries the same trading privileges as had been granted to
America. It was, throughout, a very singular race between four great
nations, in which America obtained the first start. The Japanese had,
during three or four years, seen much more of Europeans and Americans
than at any former period, and had begun to acquire enlarged notions of
international commerce; moreover, they had lately heard of the powerful
armaments on the Canton and Pei-ho rivers, and of the treaties which
those armaments had enforced; from whence the Earl of Elgin inferred
that he might probably meet with success in an attempt to obtain an
improved treaty of commerce. On the 3d of August he entered the port of
Nagasaki, with the _Furious_, _Retribution_, and _Lee_—taking with him a
steam-yacht as a present from Queen Victoria to the Emperor of Japan. On
the following day he was joined by Sir Michael Seymour, with the
_Calcutta_ and _Inflexible_. It being deemed best that the yacht should
be presented at Jedo if possible, the expedition set forth again, and
proceeded to Simoda. Here it was ascertained that Mr Townshend Harris,
United States consul, had just returned from Jedo with a new and very
advantageous treaty of commerce between America and Japan; that Count
Putiatine was at that very moment negotiating for a similar treaty
between Russia and Japan; and that Mr Donker Curtius, Dutch consul, had
been trying in a similar direction for Holland. The Earl at once saw
that no time was to be lost, or he would be distanced by the other
diplomatists. Procuring the aid of a Dutch interpreter, through the
courtesy of Mr Harris, his lordship proceeded from Simoda towards Jedo
on the 12th. Disregarding the rules laid down by the Japanese government
concerning the anchoring-places of ships, the squadron, led by Captain
Sherard Osborne, boldly pushed on to the vicinity of the city—to the
utter astonishment of the natives, official and nonofficial. Boats
approached, containing Japanese officers, who earnestly begged the
British representative not to approach the great city, which had never
yet been visited by a foreign ship; but as he was deaf to their
entreaties, they prepared to give him a courteous reception on shore.
Although the city was strongly protected by forts, there was no
indication of a hostile repulsion of the strangers. During eight days
did Elgin reside within the great city of Jedo, treated with every
attention—possibly because there were British ships-of-war and a
gun-boat just at hand. All the naval officers had opportunity of
traversing the city during this interval, and met with signs of
civilisation such as induced them to write home very glowing
descriptions. The earl at first met with difficulties, arising from the
circumstance that a conservative had just supplanted a liberal ministry
(to use English terms) at Jedo, strengthening the prejudice against
foreigners. Indeed, this change of ministry had arisen two or three days
before, in consequence of the signing of the liberal treaty with
America. Elgin, however, triumphed over this and all other difficulties;
he arrived at Shang-hae again on the 3d of September, bringing with him
a treaty of commerce between England and Japan, signed at Jedo on the
26th of August.
The treaty thus obtained was written in Dutch as the original, with
English and Japanese translations. The chief clauses comprised the
following provisions: England may appoint an ambassador to Jedo, and
Japan an ambassador to London—The ambassadors to be free to travel in
the respective empires—Each power may appoint consuls at the ports of
the other—The ports of Hakodadi, Nanagawa, Nagasaki, Nee-e-gata, Hiogo,
Jedo, and Osaca, to be opened to British traders at various times by the
year 1863—British traders may lease ground and build dwellings and
warehouses at those ports—The British may travel to distances within a
certain radius of each port—In any dispute between British and Japanese,
the British consuls to act as friendly arbitrators—If arbitration fail,
British offenders to be tried by British laws, and Japanese by those of
Japan—British residents may employ Japanese as servants or
workmen—British may freely exercise their religion—Foreign and Japanese
coin may be used indifferently for commercial purposes—Supplies for
British vessels may be stored at certain ports free of duty—Japanese
authorities to render aid to stranded British vessels—British captains
may employ Japanese pilots—Goods may be imported at an _ad valorem_
duty, without any transit or other dues, and may be re-exported duty
free—British and Japanese to aid each other in preventing
smuggling—Money, apparel, and household furniture of British subjects
residing in Japan to be imported duty free—Munitions of war to be
prohibited—All other articles to pay an _ad valorem_ import-duty,
varying from 5 to 35 per cent., according to a tariff to be specially
prepared—Any trading privileges, granted hereafter to any other nation,
to be granted equally to England.
This very important treaty—even more liberal in its provisions than that
concluded with China—was to be ratified by the two courts, and the
ratifications exchanged, within one year from the signature.
[Illustration:
SIR EDWARD LUGARD.
]
§ 3. ENGLISH PROSPECTS IN THE EAST.
When, by the month of October 1858, it was known that the object of the
Persian expedition had been fulfilled by the complete withdrawal of the
Persians from Herat; that the purpose of the Chinese expedition had been
even more than fulfilled, supposing the advantageous treaty made by the
Earl of Elgin to be faithfully observed; and that a remarkable
commercial treaty had been signed with Japan—the English nation felt,
not unjustly, that their prospects of advancement in the east were
greatly heightened. All depended, however, or would depend, on the
result of the struggle in India; if that ended satisfactorily, the power
of England in Asia would be greater than ever. That the Indian struggle
_would_ have a favourable termination, few doubted. There was much to be
done; but as the whole empire cheerfully supported the government in the
preparations for doing it, and as those preparations had been widely
spread and deeply considered, success was very confidently looked
forward to.
The arrangements for the final discomfiture (if not extinction) of the
mutineers, and for bringing back a misguided peasantry to habits of
order and of industry, will be noticed presently; but it may be
desirable first to glance at two important subjects which much occupied
the attention of thoughtful men—namely, the probable causes of the
Revolt; and, consequent on those causes, the general character of the
reforms proper to be introduced into the government of India, as an
accompaniment to the change from the Company’s _régime_ to that of the
Queen.
The complexity of Indian affairs was very remarkable; and in no instance
more so than with reference to the first of the above two subjects of
speculation. Down to the closing scene, men could not agree in their
answers to the question—‘What was the cause of the mutiny?’ Military
officers, cabinet ministers, commissioners, magistrates, missionaries,
members of parliament, pamphleteers, writers in newspapers, as they had
differed at first, so did they differ to the end. This discrepancy
offers strong proof that the causes were many in number and varied in
kind—that the Revolt was a resultant of several independent forces, all
tending towards a common end. It may not be without value to shew in
what directions public men sought for these causes. The following
summaries present the views of a few among many who wrote on the
subject:
Mr Gubbins,[195] who was financial commissioner of Oude (or Oudh) when
the mutiny began, was requested by Mr Colvin, lieutenant-governor of the
Northwest Provinces, to express his opinions concerning the causes of
that catastrophe. He wrote out his opinions; and stated that Sir Henry
Lawrence, shortly before his death, concurred mainly with them. In the
first place, he did not attribute the mutiny to Russian intrigue—an
explanation that had occurred to the minds of some persons. In the
second place, he disbelieved that the mutiny was due to a Mohammedan
conspiracy; the movement began among soldiers, of whom four-fifths or
more were Hindoos; and certain Mohammedan sovereigns and leaders only
joined it when they saw a probable chance of recovering dominion for
their race and their religion. In the third place, Mr Gubbins equally
denied that it was a national rebellion, a rising of a nation against
its rulers; for, he urged, the villagers were throughout more disposed
to remain neutral than to aid either side; we had no right to expect any
great loyalty from them; and we received all that could fairly be looked
for—the sympathy of some, the hostility of others, but the neutrality of
the greater number. In the fourth place, he denied that the annexation
of Oude caused the mutiny; there were certain persons—courtiers of the
deposed king, shopkeepers at Lucknow, soldiers of the late king’s army,
and budmashes—who had suffered by the change; but the mass of the
population, he contended, had been benefited by us, and had neither
ground nor wish for insurrection. Having thus expressed his dissent from
many modes of explanation, Mr Gubbins proceeded to give his own views,
which traced the mutiny to three concurrent causes: ‘I conceive that the
native mind had been gradually alarmed on the vital subjects of caste
and religion, when the spark was applied by the threatened introduction
of the greased cartridge; that this spark fell upon a native army most
dangerously organised, subject to no sufficient bonds of discipline, and
discontented; and, above all, that this occurred at a time when Bengal
and the Northwestern Provinces were so denuded of European troops as to
leave the real power in the hands of the natives.’
Mr Rees,[196] confining his observations to the province with which he
was best acquainted, attributed the mutiny to the mode of governing Oude
by the English, superadded to the fierce hostility of the Mussulmans to
Christians in general. Thousands of natives had been thrown out of
employ by the change of government, and with them their retainers and
servants; all alike were rendered impoverished and discontented. The
shopkeepers of Lucknow, who had made large profits by supplying the
palaces and harem of the king before his deposition, lost that advantage
when an English commissioner took the king’s place. New taxes and duties
were imposed, as a means of substituting a regular for an irregular
revenue; and these taxes irritated the payers. The Mohammedan teachers
and fanatics, he urged, enraged at the substitution of a Christian for a
Moslem government, were ready for any reactionary measures. Lastly,
there were innumerable vagabonds, bravos, and beggars in the city, who
had found bread in it under native rule, but who nearly starved under
the more systematic English government. Hence, Mr Rees contended, the
great city of Lucknow had for a year or more been ripe for rebellion,
come from what quarter and in what way it might.
Colonel Bourchier,[197] like many military officers, sought for no other
origin of the mutiny than that which was due to the state of the native
army. The enormous increase in that army—by the contingents raised to
guard the newly acquired territories in Central India, the Punjaub, and
Oude—with no corresponding increase in the European force, encouraged a
belief on the part of many of the natives that they had a fair chance of
being able to drive the English altogether from the country. The colonel
quoted an opinion expressed by the gallant and lamented Brigadier
Nicholson, who possessed an intimate knowledge of the native
character—‘Neither greased cartridges, the annexation of Oude, nor the
paucity of European officers, was the cause of the mutiny. For years I
have watched the army, and felt sure they only wanted an opportunity to
try their strength with us.’
Mr Ludlow[198] ridiculed the idea of the mutiny being sudden and
unexpected. He pointed to the fact that Munro, Metcalfe, Napier, and
other experienced men, had long ago predicted an eventual outbreak,
arising mainly from the defective organisation of the military force. Mr
Ludlow himself attributed the mutiny to many concurrent causes. The
Brahmins were against us, because we were gradually sapping the
foundations of their religion and power; the Mussulman leaders were
against us, because we had reduced the Mogul rule to a shadow, and most
of the nawabships likewise; the Mahrattas were against us, because we
had gradually lessened the power of Scindia, Holkar, the Guicowar, the
Peishwa, the Nena, and other leading men of their nation; the Oudians
were against us, because, in addition to having deposed their king, we
had greatly lessened the privileges and emoluments of the soldiery who
had heretofore served him; and lastly, the Hindoo sepoys were turned
against us, because they believed the rumour that the British government
intended to degrade their caste and religion by the medium of greased
cartridges. Mr Ludlow treated the cartridge grievance as the spark that
had directly kindled the flame; but he believed there were sufficient
inflammable materials for the outbreak even if this particular panic had
not arisen.
Mr Mead,[199] who, in connection with the press of India, had been one
of the fiercest assailants of the Company in general, and of Viscount
Canning in particular, insisted that the mutiny was a natural result of
a system of government wrong in almost every particular—cruel to the
natives, insulting to Europeans not connected with the Company, and
blind even in its selfishness. More especially, however, he referred it
to ‘the want of discipline in the Bengal army; the general contempt
entertained by the sepoys for authority; the absence of all power on the
part of commanding officers to reward or punish; the greased cartridges;
and the annexation of Oude.’ The ‘marvellous imbecility’ of the Calcutta
government—a sort of language very customary with this writer—he
referred to, not as a cause of the mutiny, but as a circumstance or
condition which permitted the easy spread of disaffection.
Mr Raikes,[200] who, as judge of the Sudder Court at Agra, had an
intimate knowledge of the Northwest Provinces, contended that, so far as
concerned those provinces, there was one cause of the troubles, and one
only—the mutiny of the sepoys. It was a revolt growing out of a military
mutiny, not a mutiny growing out of a national discontent. Ever since
the disasters at Cabool taught the natives that an English army _might_
be annihilated, Mr Raikes had noticed a change in the demeanour of the
Bengal sepoys. He believed that they indulged in dreams of ambition; and
that they made use of the cartridge grievance merely as a pretext, in
the beginning of 1857. The outbreak having once commenced, Mr Raikes
traced all the rest as consequences, not as causes.—The villagers in
many districts wavered, because they thought the power of England was
really declining; the Goojurs, Mewatties, and other predatory tribes
rose into activity, because the bonds of regular government were
loosened; the Mussulman fanatics rose, because they deemed a revival of
Moslem power just possible; but Mr Raikes denied that there was anything
like general disaffection or national insurrection in the provinces with
which he was best acquainted.
‘Indophilus’[201]—the _nom de plume_ of a distinguished civilian, who
had first served the Company in India, and then the imperial government
in England—discountenanced the idea of any general conspiracy. He
believed that the immediate exciting cause of the mutiny was the greased
cartridges; but that the predisposing causes were two—the dangerous
constitution of the Bengal sepoy army, and the Brahmin dread of reforms.
On the latter point he said: ‘In the progress of reform, we are all
accomplices. From the abolition of suttee, to the exemption of native
Christian converts from the forfeiture of their rights of inheritance;
from the formation of the first metalled road, to covering India with a
network of railways and electric telegraphs—there is not a single good
measure which has not contributed something to impress the military
priests with the conviction that, if they were to make a stand, they
must do so soon, else the opportunity would pass away for ever.’
The Rev. Dr Duff,[202] director of the Free Church Scotch Missions in
India, differed, on the one hand, from those who treated the outbreak
merely as a military revolt, and, on the other, from those who regarded
it as a great national rebellion. It was, he thought, something between
the two—a political conspiracy. He traced it much more directly to the
Mohammedan leaders than to the Hindoos. He believed in a long-existing
conspiracy among those leaders, to renew, if possible, the splendour of
the ancient Mogul times by the utter expulsion of the Christian English;
the Brahmins and Rajpoots of the Bengal army were gradually drawn into
the plot, by wily appeals to their discontent on various subjects
connected with caste and religion; while the cartridge grievance was
used simply as a pretext when the conspiracy was nearly ripe. The
millions of India, he contended, had no strong bias one way or the
other; there was no such nationality or patriotic feeling among them as
to lead them to make common cause with the conspirators; but on the
other hand they displayed very little general sympathy or loyalty
towards their English masters. Viewing the subject as a missionary, Dr
Duff strongly expressed his belief that we neither did obtain, nor had a
right to obtain, the aid of the natives, seeing that we had done so
little as a nation to Christianise them.
Without extending the list of authorities referred to, it will be seen
that nearly all these writers regarded the ‘cartridge grievance’ as
merely the spark which kindled inflammable materials, and the state of
the Bengal army as one of the predisposing causes of the mutiny; but
they differed greatly on the questions whether the revolt was rather
Mohammedan or Hindoo, and whether it was a national rebellion or only a
military mutiny. It is probable that the affirmative opinions were
sounder than the negative—in other words, that every one of the causes
assigned had really something to do with this momentous outbreak.
We now pass to the second of the two subjects indicated above—the views
of distinguished men, founded in part on past calamities, on the reforms
necessary in Indian government. And here it will suffice to indicate the
chief items of proposed reforms, leaving the reader to form his own
opinions thereon. During the progress of the Revolt, and in reference to
the future of British India, a most valuable and interesting
correspondence came to light—valuable on account of the eminence of the
persons engaged in it. These persons were Sir John Lawrence and Colonel
Herbert Edwardes—the one chief-commissioner of the Punjaub, the other
commissioner of the Peshawur division of that province. Both had the
welfare of India deeply at heart; and yet they differed widely in
opinion concerning the means whereby that welfare could be best
secured—especially in relation to religious matters. Early in the year
1858, Colonel Edwardes published a _Memorandum on the Elimination of all
unchristian Principles from the Government of British India_. About the
same time Mr MacLeod, financial commissioner, published a letter on the
same subject; as did also, some time afterwards, Mr Arnold,
director-general of public instruction in the Punjaub. Sir John
Lawrence, on the 21st of April, addressed a dispatch to Viscount
Canning, explanatory of his views on the matters treated by these three
gentlemen, especially by Colonel Edwardes. The colonel had placed under
ten distinct headings the ‘unchristian elements’ (as he termed them) in
the Indian government; and it will suffice for the present purpose to
give here brief abstracts of the statements and the rejoinders—by which,
at any rate, the subject is rendered intelligible to those who choose to
study it:
1. _Exclusion of the Bible and of Christian Teaching from the Government
Schools and Colleges._—Edwardes insisted that the Bible ought to be
introduced in all government schools, and its study made a part of the
regular instruction. Lawrence was favourable to Bible diffusion, but
pointed out certain necessary limits. He would not teach native
religions in government schools; he would teach Christianity only (in
addition to secular instruction), but would not make it compulsory on
native children to attend that portion of the daily routine. He would
wish to see the Bible in every village-school throughout the empire—with
these two provisoes: that there were persons able to teach it, and
pupils willing to hear it. Who the teachers should be—whether clergymen,
missionaries, lay Bible-readers, or Christianised natives—is a problem
that can only very gradually receive its solution. Lawrence insisted
that there must be no compulsion in the matter of studying Christianity;
it must be an invitation to the natives, not a command. The four
authorities named in the last paragraph all differed in opinion on this
Bible question. Colonel Edwardes advocated a determined and compulsory
teaching of the Bible. Mr MacLeod joined him to a considerable extent,
but not wholly. Mr Arnold strongly resisted the project of teaching the
Bible at all—on the grounds that it would infringe the principle of
religious neutrality; that it would not be fair to the natives unless
native religions were taught also; that it would seem to them a
proselyting and even a persecuting measure; that it might be politically
dangerous; and that we should involve ourselves in the sea of
theological controversy, owing to the diversities of religious sects
among Christians. Sir John Lawrence, as we have seen, adopted a medium
between these extremes.
2. _Endowment of Idolatry and Mohammedanism by the Government._—In
British India, many small items of revenue are paid by the government
for the support of temples, priests, idols, and ceremonies pertaining to
the Hindoo and Mohammedan religions. Edwardes urged that these payments
should cease, as a disgrace to a Christian government. Lawrence pointed
out that this withdrawal could not be effected without a gross breach of
faith. The revenues in question belonged to those religious bodies
before England ‘annexed’ the states, and were recognised as such at the
time of the annexation. They are a property, a claim on the land, like
tithes in England, or like conventual lands in Roman Catholic countries.
They are not, and never have been, regarded as religious offerings or
gifts. We seized the lands; but if we were to withhold the revenues
derived from those lands, on the ground that the religious services are
heathen, it would be a virtual persecution of heathenism, and, as such,
repugnant to the mild principles of Christianity. Lawrence believed that
the payments might so be made as not to appear to encourage idolatry;
but he would not listen to any such breach of faith as withholding them
altogether.
3. _Recognition of Caste._—Colonel Edwardes, in common with many other
persons, believed that the British government had pandered too much to
the prejudices of caste, and that this system ought to be changed.
Lawrence pointed out that it was mainly in the Bengal army that this
prevailed, and that the custom arose out of very natural circumstances.
Brahmins and Rajpoots were preferred for military service, because they
were generally finer men than those of lower castes, because they were
(apparently) superior in moral qualifications, and because they were
descended from the old soldiers who had fought under Clive and our early
generals. Our officers became so accustomed to them, that at length they
would enlist no others. Being more easily obtained from Oude than from
any other province, it came to pass that the Bengal army gradually
assumed the character of a vast aggregate of brotherhoods and
cousinhoods—consisting chiefly of men belonging to the same castes,
speaking the same dialects, coming from the same districts, and
influenced by the same associations. It was the gradual growth of a
custom, which the Revolt suddenly put an end to. Lawrence denied that
the government had shewn any great encouragement to caste prejudices,
except in the Bengal army. He believed that an equal error would be
committed by discouraging the higher and encouraging the lower castes.
What is wanted is, a due admixture of all, from the haughty Brahmin and
Rajpoot castes, down to the humble Trading and Sweeper castes. Whether
all should be combined in one regiment, or different regiments be formed
of different castes, would depend much on the part of India under
notice. Christianised natives would probably constitute valuable
regiments, as soon as their number becomes sufficiently great. On all
these questions of caste, the two authorities differed chiefly
thus—Edwardes would beat down and humble the higher castes; Lawrence
would employ all, without especially encouraging any.
[Illustration:
Fort St George, Madras; in 1780.
]
4. _Observance of Native Holidays in State Departments._—Native servants
of the government were usually allowed to absent themselves on days of
festival or religious ceremony. Edwardes proposed to reform this, as
being a pandering to heathen customs, unworthy of a Christian
government. Lawrence contended that such a change would be a departure
from the golden rule of ‘doing unto others that which we would they
should do unto us.’ A Christian in a Mohammedan country would think it
cruel if compelled to work on Sunday, Good Friday, or Christmas-day; and
so would the Hindoo and Mussulman of India, if compelled to work on
their days of religious festival. Lawrence thought that the number might
advantageously be lessened, by restricting the list to such as were
especial religious days in the native faiths; but beyond this he would
not curtail the privilege of holiday (holy day). He adverted to the fact
that the Christian Sunday is made obvious to the natives by the
suspension of all public works.
5. _Administration by the British of Hindoo and Mohammedan
Laws._—Edwardes deemed it objectionable that England should to so great
an extent suffer native laws to be administered in India. Lawrence
replied that it is the policy of conquerors to interfere as little as
possible in those native laws which operate only between man and man,
and do not affect imperial policy. He drew attention to the fact that
Indian legislation had already made two important steps, by legalising
the re-marriage of Hindoo widows, and by removing all possible civil
disabilities or legal disadvantages from Christian converts; and he
looked forward to the time when it might perhaps be practicable to
abolish polygamy, and the making of contracts of betrothal by parents on
behalf of infant children; but he strenuously insisted on the importance
of not changing any such laws until the government can carry the
good-will of the natives with them.
6. _Publicity of Hindoo and Mohammedan Processions._—It was urged by
Edwardes that religious processions ought not to be allowed in the
public streets, under protection of the police. Lawrence joined in this
opinion—not, however, on religious grounds, but because the processions
led to quarrelling and fighting between rival communions, and because
the Hindoo idols and pictures are often of a character quite unfitted
for exhibition in public thoroughfares.
7. _Display of Prostitution in the Streets._—This aspect of social
immorality is far more glaring in many parts of India than in European
cities, bad as the latter may be. Edwardes recommended, and Lawrence
concurred in the recommendation, that the police arrangements should be
rendered more stringent in this matter.
8. _Restrictions on Marriage of European Soldiers._—Great restrictions
were, in bygone years, imposed by the Company on the marriage of
European soldiers; and a shameful disregard shewn for the homes of those
who were married. Edwardes condemned this state of things; and Lawrence
shared his views to a great extent. He asserted that men are not better
soldiers for being unmarried—rather the reverse; and that women and
children, in moderate numbers, need not be any obstruction to military
arrangements. Some change in this matter he recommended. He pointed out,
however, that in reference to the comfort of married soldiers, great
improvements had been introduced into the Punjaub, and improvements to a
smaller extent in other parts of British India. He fully recognised the
bounden duty of the government so to construct barracks as to provide
for the proper domestic privacy of married soldiers and their families.
9. _Connection of the Government with the Opium-trade._—Edwardes dwelt
on the objectionable character of this connection. Lawrence replied that
the English were not called upon to decide for the Chinese how far the
use of opium is deleterious; and that, until we checked our own
consumption of intoxicating liquors, we were scarcely in a position to
take a high moral tone on this point. He nevertheless fully agreed that
it was objectionable in any government to encourage the growth of this
drug, actively supervising the storing and selling, and advancing money
for this purpose to the cultivators. It was a revenue question,
defensive wholly on financial grounds. How to provide a substitute for
the £4,000,000 or £5,000,000 thus derived would be a difficult matter;
but he thought the best course would be to sever the connection between
the government and the opium-trade, and to lay a heavy customs duty on
the export of opium from India.
10. _Indian Excise Laws._—It was contended by Edwardes that the
government encouraged intemperance by farming out to monopolists the
right of manufacturing and selling intoxicating drugs and spirits.
Lawrence contested this point. He asserted that there is less
drunkenness in India, less spirit-drinking and drug-chewing, than under
the former native rule, when the trade was open to all. As a question of
morals, the Indian government does no more than that of the home
country, in deriving a revenue from spirituous liquors; as a question of
fact, the evils are lessened by the very monopoly complained of.
Sir John Lawrence, in a few concluding remarks, expressed a very strong
belief that Christian civilisation may be introduced gradually into
India if a temperate policy be pursued; but that rash zeal would produce
great disaster. ‘It is when unchristian things are done in the name of
Christianity, or when Christian things are done in an unchristian way,
that mischief and danger are occasioned.’ He recommended that as soon as
the supreme government had organised the details of a just and
well-considered policy, ‘it should be openly avowed and universally
acted on throughout British India; so that there may be no diversities
of practice, no isolated or conflicting efforts, which would be the
surest means of exciting distrust; so that the people may see that we
have no sudden or sinister designs; and so that we may exhibit that
harmony and uniformity of conduct which befits a Christian nation
striving to do its duty.’ Finally, he expressed a singularly firm
conviction that, so far as concerns the Punjaub, he could himself carry
out ‘all those measures which are really matters of Christian duty on
the part of the government:’ measures which ‘would arouse no danger,
would conciliate instead of provoking, and would subserve the ultimate
diffusion of the truth among the people.’
It wants no other evidence than is furnished by the above very
remarkable correspondence, to shew that the future government of India
must, if it be effective, be based on some system which has been well
weighed and scrutinised on all sides. The problem is nothing less than
that of governing a hundred and eighty millions of human beings, whose
characteristics are very imperfectly known to us. It is a matter of no
great difficulty to write out a scheme or plan of government,
plentifully bestrewed with personalities and accusations; there have
been many such; but the calm judgment of men filling different ranks in
life, and conversant with different aspects of Indian character, can
alone insure the embodiment of a scheme calculated to benefit both India
and England. Whether the abolition of the governing powers of the East
India Company will facilitate the solution of this great problem, the
future alone can shew; it will at any rate simplify the departmental
operations.
The Queen’s proclamation, announcing the great change in the mode of
government, and offering an amnesty to evildoers under certain easily
understood conditions, adverted cautiously to the future and its
prospects. Before, however, touching on this important document, it may
be well to say a few words concerning the military operations in the few
weeks immediately preceding its issue.
These operations, large as they were, had resolved themselves into the
hunting down of desperate bands, rather than the fighting of great
battles with a military opponent. Throughout the whole of India, in the
months of October and November, disturbances had been nearly quelled
except in two regions—Oude, with portions of the neighbouring provinces
of Rohilcund and Behar; and Malwah, with portions of Bundelcund and the
Nerbudda provinces. Of the rest—Bengal, Assam and the Delta of the
Ganges, Aracan and Pegu, the greater portion of Behar and the Northwest
Provinces, the Doab, Sirhind and the hill regions, the Punjaub, Sinde,
Cutch and Gujerat, Bombay and its vicinity, the Deccan under the Nizam,
the Nagpoor territory, the Madras region, Mysore, the South Mahratta
country, the south of the Indian peninsula—all were so nearly at peace
as to excite little attention. Of the two excepted regions, a few
details will shew that they were gradually falling more and more under
British power.
In the Oude region the guiding spirit was still the Begum, one of the
wives of the deposed king. She had the same kind of energy and ability
as the Ranee of Jhansi, with less of cruelty; and was hence deserving of
a meed of respect. Camp-gossip told that, under disappointment at the
uniform defeat of the rebel troops whenever and wherever they
encountered the English, she sent a pair of bangles (ankle-ornaments) to
each of her generals or leaders—scoffingly telling him to wear those
trinkets, and become a woman, unless he could vanquish and drive out the
Feringhees. This had the effect of impelling some of her officers to
make attacks on the British; but the attacks were utterly futile. There
were many leaders in Oude who fought on their own account; a greater
number, however, acknowledged a kind of suzerainty in the Begum. If she
did not win battles, she at least headed armies, and carried on open
warfare; whereas the despicable Nena Sahib, true to his cowardice from
first to last, was hiding in jungles, and endeavouring to keep his very
existence unknown to the English. The military operations in Oude during
the month of October were not extensive in character. Sir Colin Campbell
(Lord Clyde), waiting for the cessation of the autumnal rains, was
collecting several columns, with a view of hemming in the rebels on all
sides and crushing them. That they would ultimately be crushed,
everything foretold; for in every encounter, large or small, they were
so disgracefully beaten as to shew that the leaders commanded a mere
predatory rabble rather than a brave disciplined soldiery. These
encounters were mostly in Oude, but partly in Behar and Rohilcund. In
the greater number of instances, however, the rebels ran instead of
fighting, even though their number was tenfold that of their opponents.
The skilled mutinied sepoys from the Bengal army were becoming daily
fewer in number, so many having been struck down by war and by
privation; their places were now taken by undisciplined ruffians, who,
however strong for rapine and anarchy, were nearly powerless on the
field of battle. Thousands of men in this part of India, who had become
impoverished, almost houseless, during a year and a half of anarchy, had
strong temptation to join the rebel leaders, from a hope of booty or
plunder, irrespective of any national or patriotic motive. Sir Colin,
when the month of November arrived, entered personally on his plan of
operations; which was to bar the boundaries of Oude on three sides—the
Ganges, Rohilcund, and Behar—and compel the various bodies of rebels
either to fight or to flee; if they fought, their virtual annihilation
would be almost certain; if they fled, it could only be to the jungle
region on the Nepaul frontier of Oude, where, though they might carry on
a hide-and-seek game for many months, their military importance as
rebels would cease. In the dead of the night, between the 1st and 2d of
November, the veteran commander-in-chief set forth from Allahabad with a
well-selected force, crossed the Ganges, and advanced into Oude. His
first work was to issue a proclamation,[203] sternly threatening all
evildoers. A few days earlier, at Lucknow, Mr Montgomery, as
chief-commissioner, had issued a proclamation for the disarming of
Oude—requiring all thalookdars to surrender their guns, all persons
whatever to surrender their arms, all leaders to refrain from building
and arming forts; and threatening with fine and imprisonment those who
should disobey. It was intended and believed that the three
proclamations should all conduce towards a pacification—the Queen’s
(presently to be noticed) offering pardon to mutineers who yielded; the
Commander-in-chief’s, threatening destruction to all towns and villages
which aided rebels; and the commissioners’, lessening the powers for
mischief by depriving the inhabitants generally of arms. With Sir Colin
advancing towards the centre of Oude by Pertabghur, troops from
Seetapoor, Hope Grant from Salone, and Rowcroft from the Gogra at
Fyzabad, the Begum and her supporters were gradually so hemmed in that
they began to avail themselves of the terms of the Queen’s proclamation
by surrender. It was to such a result that the authorities had from the
first looked; but never until now had all the conditions for it been
favourable. One of the first to surrender was Rajah Lall Madhoo Singh, a
chieftain of great influence and energy, and one whose character had not
been stained by deeds of cruelty.
In the Arrah or Jugdispore district, in like manner, the close of the
scene was foreshadowed. Ummer Singh and his confederates had long
baffled Brigadier Douglas; but now that troops were converging from all
quarters upon the jungle-haunt, the rebels became more and more isolated
from bands in other districts, their position more and more critical,
and their final discomfiture more certain. Sir H. Havelock, son of the
deceased general, and Colonel Turner, pressed them more and more with
new columns, until their hopes were desperate. One excellent expedient
was the cutting down of the Jugdispore jungle, 23 miles in length by 4
in breadth; this useful work was begun in November by Messrs Burn,
railway contractors.
In the other region of India above adverted to—comprising those
districts of Malwah, Bundelcund, &c., which are watered by the Betwah,
the Chumbul, the Nerbudda, and their tributaries—the leading rebel was
Tanteea Topee, one of the most remarkable men brought forward by the
Revolt. He had most of the qualities for a good general—except courage.
He would not fight if he could help it; but in avoiding the British
generals opposed to him, he displayed a cunning of plan, a fertility of
resource, and a celerity of movement, quite note-worthy. The truth seems
to have been, that he held power over an enormous treasure, in money and
jewels, which he had obtained by plundering Scindia’s palace at Gwalior;
this treasure he carried with him wherever he went; and he shunned any
encounters which might endanger it. He looked out for a strong city or
fort, where he might settle down as a Mahratta prince, with a large
store of available ready wealth at hand; but as the British did not
choose to leave him in quietude, he marched from place to place. Between
the beginning of June and the end of November he traversed with his army
an enormous area of country, seizing guns from various towns and forts
on the way, but usually escaping before the English could catch him.
Former chapters have shewn by what strange circumvolutions he arrived at
Julra Patteen; and a detail of operations would shew that his subsequent
movements were equally erratic. He went to Seronj, then to Esagurh, then
to Chunderee, then to Peshore, then arrived at the river Betwah, and
wavered whether he should go southward to the Deccan or northward
towards Jhansi. Everywhere he was either followed or headed, by columns
and detachments under Michel, Mayne, Parkes, Smith, and other officers.
Whenever they could bring him to an encounter, they invariably beat him
most signally; but when, as generally happened, he escaped by forced
marches, they tracked him. He picked up guns and men as he went; so that
the amount of his force was never correctly known; it varied from three
to fifteen thousand. One of the most severe defeats he received was at
Sindwah, on the 19th of October, at the hands of General Michel;
another, on the 25th, near Multhone, from the same active general. It
was felt on all sides that this game could not be indefinitely
continued. Tanteea Topee was like a hunted beast of prey, pursued by
enemies who would not let him rest. When it had been clearly ascertained
by General Roberts, in Rajpootana, that the fleet-footed and
unencumbered rebel soldiery could escape faster than British troops
could follow them, a new mode of strategy was adopted; columns from four
different directions began to march towards a common centre, near which
centre were Tanteea and his rebels; if one column could not catch him,
another could head him and drive him back. Thus it was considered a
military certainty that he must be run down at last. And if he fell, the
great work of pacification in that part of India would be pretty well
effected; for there was no rebel force of any account except that
commanded by Tanteea Topee. After his defeat at Multhone, Tanteea was in
great peril; Michel literally cut his army in two; and if he had pursued
the larger instead of the smaller of these two sections, he might
possibly have captured Tanteea himself. On the last day in October, the
rebel leader crossed the Nerbudda river, thereby turning his back on the
regions occupied by the columns of Roberts, Napier, Michel, Smith, and
Whitlock. During November, he made some extraordinary marches in the
country immediately southward of the Nerbudda—being heard of
successively at Baitool, the Sindwara hills, and other little-known
places in that region. He was no better off than before, however, for
forces were immediately sent against him from Ahmednuggur, Kamptee, and
other places; he had lost nearly all his guns and stores, his rebel
followers, though laden with wealth, were footsore and desponding; and,
for the first time, his companions began to look out for favourable
terms of surrender. The Queen’s proclamation was eminently calculated to
withdraw his misguided followers from him; and the Nawab of Banda, the
most influential among them, was the first to give himself up to General
Michel.
Not only was a large measure of forgiveness held out to those who would
return to their allegiance; but the British troops in India were
becoming so formidably numerous as to render still more certain than
ever the eventual triumph of order and good government. The Queen’s
troops in India at the beginning of November, those on the passage from
England, and those told off for further shipment, amounted altogether to
little short of one hundred thousand men. It affords a striking instance
of triumph over difficulties, that between November 1857 and November
1858 the Peninsular and Oriental Steam-navigation Company conveyed no
less than 8190 officers and soldiers to India by the overland route—in
spite of the forebodings that that route would be unsuitable for whole
regiments of soldiers; the burning Egyptian desert and the reef-bound
Red Sea were traversed almost without disaster, under the watchful care
of this company.
The 1st of November 1858 was a great day in India. On this day the
transference of governing power from the East India Company to Queen
Victoria was made known throughout the length and breadth of the empire.
A royal proclamation[204] was issued, which many regarded as the Magna
Charta of native liberty in India. At Calcutta, Bombay, Madras, Lahore,
Kurachee, Delhi, Agra, Allahabad, Nagpoor, Mysore, Rangoon, and other
great cities, this proclamation was read with every accompaniment of
ceremonial splendour that could give dignity to the occasion in the eyes
of the natives; and at every British station, large or small, it was
read amid such military honours as each place afforded. It was
translated into most of the languages, and many of the dialects of
India. It was printed in tens of thousands, and distributed wherever
natives were wont most to congregate—in order that all might know that
Queen Victoria was now virtually Empress of India; that the
governor-general was now her viceroy; that the native princes might rely
on the observance by her of all treaties made with them by the Company;
that she desired no encroachment on, or annexation of, the territories
of those princes; that she would not interfere with the religion of the
natives, or countenance any favouritism in matters of faith; that creed
or caste should not be a bar to employment in her service; that the
ancient legal tenures and forms of India should, as far as possible, be
adhered to; and that all mutineers and rebels, except those whose hands
were blood-stained by actual murder, should receive a full and gracious
pardon on abandoning their acts of insurgency. When these words were
uttered aloud at Bombay (and the ceremony was more or less similar at
the other cities named) the spectacle was such as the natives of India
had never before seen. The governor and all the chief civilians; the
military officers and the troops; the clergy of all the various
Christian denominations; the merchants, shipowners, and traders; the
Mohammedans, Hindoos, Mahrattas, Parsees—all were represented among the
throng around the spot from whence the proclamation was read, first in
English, and then in Mahratta. And then the shouting, the music of
military bands, the firing of guns, the waving of flags, the
illuminations at night, the fireworks in the public squares, the
blue-lights and manning of the ships, the banquets in the chief
mansions—all rendered this a day to be borne in remembrance. Sir
Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy, the Parsee baronet, vied with the Christians in the
munificence of rejoicing; and indeed, so little did religious
differences mar the harmony of the scene, that Catholic chapels,
Mohammedan mosques, Hindoo pagodas, and Parsee temples were alike
lighted up at night. It may not be that every one was enabled to assign
good reasons for his rejoicing; but there was certainly a pretty general
concurrence of opinion that the declared sovereignty of Queen Victoria,
as a substitute for the ever-incomprehensible ‘raj’ of the East India
Company, was a presage of good for British India. At Calcutta, the
proclamation had the singular good-fortune of winning the approval of a
community always very difficult to please. The Europeans consented to
lay aside all minor considerations, in order to do honour to the great
principles involved in the proclamation. The natives, too, took their
share in the rejoicing. A public meeting was held early in the month, at
which an influential Hindoo, Baboo Ramgopal Ghose, made an animated
speech. He said, among other things: ‘If I had power and influence, I
would proclaim through the length and breadth of this land—from the
Himalayas to Cape Comorin, from the Brahmaputra to the Bay of
Cambay—that never were the natives more grievously mistaken than they
have been in adopting the notion foisted on them by designing and
ambitious men—that their religion was at stake; for that notion I
believe to have been at the root of the late rebellion.’ Some of the
more intelligent natives rightly understood the nature of the great
change made in the government of India; but among the ignorant, it
remained a mystery—rendered, however, very palatable by the open avowal
of a Queen regnant, and of a proclamation breathing sentiments of
justice and kindness.
[Illustration]
-----
Footnote 194:
Chapter xiii., p. 211.
Footnote 195:
_Account of the Mutinies in Oudh._
Footnote 196:
_Personal Narrative of the Siege of Lucknow._
Footnote 197:
_Eight Months’ Campaign against the Bengal Sepoy Army._
Footnote 198:
_British India; its Races and its History._
Footnote 199:
_The Sepoy Revolt; its Causes and its Consequences._
Footnote 200:
_Notes on the Revolt in the Northwest Provinces._
Footnote 201:
_Letters of Indophilus to the ‘Times.’_
Footnote 202:
_The Indian Rebellion: its Causes and Results._
Footnote 203:
‘The Commander-in-chief proclaims to the people of Oude that, under
the order of the Right Hon. the Governor-general, he comes to enforce
the law.
‘In order to effect this without danger to life and property,
resistance must cease on the part of the people.
‘The most exact discipline will be preserved in the camps and on the
march; and when there is no resistance, houses and crops will be
spared, and no plundering allowed in the towns and villages. But
wherever there is resistance, or even a single shot fired against the
troops, the inhabitants must expect to incur the fate they have
brought on themselves. Their houses will be plundered, and their
villages burnt.
‘This proclamation includes all ranks of the people, from the
thalookdars to the poorest ryots.
‘The Commander-in-chief invites all the well-disposed to remain in
their towns and villages, where they will be sure of his protection
against all violence.’
Footnote 204:
See Appendix.
APPENDIX.
_East India Company’s Petition to Parliament, January 1858._—(See p.
563.)
To the Right Honourable the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and the
Honourable the Commons of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and
Ireland in Parliament assembled; The humble Petition of the East India
Company, Sheweth:
That your petitioners, at their own expense, and by the agency of their
own civil and military servants, originally acquired for this country
its magnificent empire in the East.
That the foundations of this empire were laid by your petitioners, at
that time neither aided nor controlled by parliament, at the same period
at which a succession of administrations under the control of parliament
were losing to the Crown of Great Britain another great empire on the
opposite side of the Atlantic.
That during the period of about a century, which has since elapsed, the
Indian possessions of this country have been governed and defended from
the resources of those possessions, without the smallest cost to the
British exchequer, which, to the best of your petitioners’ knowledge and
belief, cannot be said of any other of the numerous foreign dependencies
of the Crown.
That it being manifestly improper that the administration of any British
possession should be independent of the general government of the
empire, parliament provided in 1783 that a department of the imperial
government should have full cognizance of, and power of control over,
the acts of your petitioners in the administration of India; since which
time the home branch of the Indian government has been conducted by the
joint counsels and on the joint responsibility of your petitioners and
of a minister of the Crown.
That this arrangement has at subsequent periods undergone
reconsideration from the legislature, and various comprehensive and
careful parliamentary inquiries have been made into its practical
operation; the result of which has been, on each occasion, a renewed
grant to your petitioners of the powers exercised by them in the
administration of India.
That the last of these occasions was so recent as 1853, in which year
the arrangements which had existed for nearly three-quarters of a
century were, with certain modifications, re-enacted, and still subsist.
That, notwithstanding, your petitioners have received an intimation from
her Majesty’s ministers of their intention to propose to parliament a
bill for the purpose of placing the government of her Majesty’s East
Indian dominions under the direct authority of the Crown: a change
necessarily involving the abolition of the East India Company as an
instrument of government.
That your petitioners have not been informed of the reasons which have
induced her Majesty’s ministers, without any previous inquiry, to come
to the resolution of putting an end to a system of administration which
parliament, after inquiry, deliberately confirmed and sanctioned less
than five years ago, and which, in its modified form, has not been in
operation quite four years, and cannot be considered to have undergone a
sufficient trial during that short period.
That your petitioners do not understand that her Majesty’s ministers
impute any failure to those arrangements, or bring any charge, either
great or small, against your petitioners. But the time at which the
proposal is made, compels your petitioners to regard it as arising from
the calamitous events which have recently occurred in India.
That your petitioners challenge the most searching investigation into
the mutiny of the Bengal army, and the causes, whether remote or
immediate, which produced that mutiny. They have instructed the
government of India to appoint a commission for conducting such an
inquiry on the spot; and it is their most anxious wish that a similar
inquiry may be instituted in this country by your [lordships’]
honourable House, in order that it may be ascertained whether anything,
either in the constitution of the home government of India, or in the
conduct of those by whom it has been administered, has had any share in
producing the mutiny, or has in any way impeded the measures for its
suppression; and whether the mutiny itself, or any circumstance
connected with it, affords any evidence of the failure of the
arrangements under which India is at present administered.
That were it even true that these arrangements had failed, the failure
could constitute no reason for divesting the East India Company of its
functions, and transferring them to her Majesty’s government. For, under
the existing system, her Majesty’s government have the deciding voice.
The duty imposed upon the Court of Directors is, to originate measures
and frame drafts of instructions. Even had they been remiss in this
duty, their remissness, however discreditable to themselves, could in no
way absolve the responsibility of her Majesty’s government; since the
minister for India possesses, and has frequently exercised, the power of
requiring that the Court of Directors should take any subject into
consideration, and prepare a draft-dispatch for his approval. Her
Majesty’s government are thus in the fullest sense accountable for all
that has been done, and for all that has been forborne or omitted to be
done. Your petitioners, on the other hand, are accountable only in so
far as the act or omission has been promoted by themselves.
That under these circumstances, if the administration of India had been
a failure, it would, your petitioners submit, have been somewhat
unreasonable, to expect that a remedy would be found in annihilating the
branch of the ruling authority which could not be the one principally in
fault, and might be altogether blameless, in order to concentrate all
powers in the branch which had necessarily the decisive share in every
error, real or supposed. To believe that the administration of India
would have been more free from error, had it been conducted by a
minister of the Crown without the aid of the Court of Directors, would
be to believe that the minister, with full power to govern India as he
pleased, has governed ill because he has had the assistance of
experienced and responsible advisers.
That your petitioners, however, do not seek to vindicate themselves at
the expense of any other authority; they claim their full share of the
responsibility of the manner in which India has practically been
governed. That responsibility is to them not a subject of humiliation,
but of pride. They are conscious that their advice and initiative have
been, and have deserved to be, a great and potent element in the conduct
of affairs in India. And they feel complete assurance, that the more
attention is bestowed, and the more light thrown upon India and its
administration, the more evident it will become, that the government in
which they have borne a part, has been not only one of the purest in
intention, but one of the most beneficent in act, ever known among
mankind; that during the last and present generations in particular, it
has been, in all departments, one of the most rapidly improving
governments in the world; and that, at the time when this change is
proposed, a greater number of important improvements are in a state of
rapid progress than at any former period. And they are satisfied that
whatever further improvements may be hereafter effected in India, can
only consist in the development of germs already planted, and in
building on foundations already laid, under their authority, and in a
great measure by their express instructions.
That such, however, is not the impression likely to be made on the
public mind, either in England or in India, by the ejection of your
petitioners from the place they fill in the Indian administration. It is
not usual with statesmen to propose the complete abolition of a system
of government of which the practical operation is not condemned. It
might therefore be generally inferred from the proposed measures, if
carried into effect at the present time, that the East India Company
having been intrusted with an important portion of the administration of
India, have so abused their trust, as to have produced a sanguinary
insurrection, and nearly lost India to the British empire; and that
having thus crowned a long career of misgovernment, they have, in
deference to public indignation, been deservedly cashiered for their
misconduct.
That if the character of the East India Company were alone concerned,
your petitioners might be willing to await the verdict of history. They
are satisfied that posterity will do them justice. And they are
confident that, even now, justice is done to them in the minds, not only
of her Majesty’s ministers, but of all who have any claim to be
competent judges of the subject. But though your petitioners could
afford to wait for the reversal of the verdict of condemnation which
will be believed throughout the world to have been passed on them and
their government by the British nation, your petitioners cannot look
without the deepest uneasiness at the effect likely to be produced on
the minds of the people of India. To them—however incorrectly the name
may express the fact—the British government in India is the government
of the East India Company. To their minds, the abolition of the Company
will, for some time to come, mean the abolition of the whole system of
administration with which the Company is identified. The measure,
introduced simultaneously with the influx of an overwhelming British
force, will be coincident with a general outcry, in itself most alarming
to their fears, from most of the organs of opinion in this country, as
well as of English opinion in India, denouncing the past policy of the
government on the express ground that it has been too forbearing, and
too considerate towards the natives. The people of India will at first
feel no certainty that the new government, or the government under a new
name, which it is proposed to introduce, will hold itself bound by the
pledges of its predecessors. They will be slow to believe that a
government has been destroyed, only to be followed by another which will
act on the same principles, and adhere to the same measures. They cannot
suppose that the existing organ of administration would be swept away
without the intention of reversing any part of its policy. They will see
the authorities, both at home and in India, surrounded by persons
vehemently urging radical changes in many parts of that policy.
Interpreting, as they must do, the change in the instrument of
government as a concession to these opinions and feelings, they can
hardly fail to believe that, whatever else may be intended, the
government will no longer be permitted to observe that strict
impartiality between those who profess its own creed and those who hold
the creeds of its native subjects, which hitherto characterised it; that
their strongest and most deeply rooted feelings will henceforth be
treated with much less regard than heretofore; and that a directly
aggressive policy towards everything in their habits, or in their usages
and customs, which Englishmen deem objectionable, will be no longer
confined to individuals and private associations, but will be backed by
all the power of government.
And here your petitioners think it important to observe, that in
abstaining as they have done from all interference with any of the
religious practices of the people of India, except such as are abhorrent
to humanity, they have acted not only from their own conviction of what
is just and expedient, but in accordance with the avowed intentions and
express enactments of the legislature, framed ‘in order that regard
should be had to the civil and religious usages of the natives,’ and
also ‘that suits, civil or criminal, against the natives,’ should be
conducted according to such rules ‘as may accommodate the same to the
religion and manners of the natives.’ That their policy in this respect
has been successful, is evidenced by the fact that, during a military
mutiny, said to have been caused by unfounded apprehensions of danger to
religion, the heads of the native states and the masses of the
population have remained faithful to the British government. Your
petitioners need hardly observe, how very different would probably have
been the issue of the late events if the native princes, instead of
aiding in the suppression of the rebellion, had put themselves at its
head, or if the general population had joined in the revolt; and how
probable it is that both these contingencies would have occurred if any
real ground had been given for the persuasion that the British
government intended to identify itself with proselytism. It is the
honest conviction of your petitioners, that any serious apprehension of
a change of policy in this respect would be likely to be followed, at no
distant period, by a general rising throughout India.
That your petitioners have seen with the greatest pain, the
demonstrations of indiscriminate animosity towards the natives of India
on the part of our countrymen in India and at home, which have grown up
since the late unhappy events. They believe these sentiments to be
fundamentally unjust; they know them to be fatal to the possibility of
good government in India. They feel that if such demonstrations should
continue, and especially if weight be added to them by legislating under
their supposed influence, no amount of wisdom and forbearance on the
part of the government will avail to restore that confidence of the
governed in the intentions of their rulers, without which it is vain
even to attempt the improvement of the people.
That your petitioners cannot contemplate without dismay the doctrine now
widely promulgated, that India should be administered with an especial
view to the benefit of the English who reside there—or that in its
administration any advantages should be sought for her Majesty’s
subjects of European birth, except that which they will necessarily
derive from their superiority of intelligence, and from the increased
prosperity of the people, the improvement of the productive resources of
the country, and the extension of commercial intercourse. Your
petitioners regard it as the most honourable characteristic of the
government of India by England, that it has acknowledged no such
distinction as that of a dominant and a subject race; but has held that
its first duty was to the people of India. Your petitioners feel that a
great portion of the hostility with which they are assailed, is caused
by the belief that they are peculiarly the guardians of this principle,
and that, so long as they have any voice in the administration of India,
it cannot easily be infringed; and your petitioners will not conceal
their belief that their exclusion from any part in the government is
likely, at the present time, to be regarded in India as a first
successful attack on that principle.
That your petitioners, therefore, most earnestly represent to your
[lordships’] honourable House that even if the contemplated change could
be proved to be in itself advisable, the present is a most unsuitable
time for entertaining it; and they most strongly and respectfully urge
on your [lordships’] honourable House the expediency of at least
deferring any such change until it can be effected at a period when it
would not be, in the minds of the people of India, directly connected
with the recent calamitous events, and with the feelings to which those
events have either given rise, or have afforded an opportunity of
manifestation. Such postponement, your petitioners submit, would allow
time for a more mature consideration than has yet been given, or can be
given in the present excited state of the public mind, to the various
questions connected with the organisation of a government for India; and
would enable the most competent minds in the nation calmly to examine
whether any new arrangement can be devised for the home government of
India uniting a greater number of the conditions of good administration
than the present, and if so, which, among the numerous schemes which
have been or may be proposed, possesses those requisites in the greatest
degree.
That your petitioners have always willingly acquiesced in any changes
which, after discussion by parliament, were deemed conducive to the
general welfare, although such changes may have involved important
sacrifices to themselves. They would refer to their partial
relinquishment of trade in 1813; to its total abandonment, and the
placing of their commercial charter in abeyance in 1833; to the transfer
to India of their commercial assets, amounting to £15,858,000, a sum
greatly exceeding that ultimately repayable to them in respect of their
capital, independent of territorial rights and claims; and to their
concurrence, in 1853, in the measure by which the Court of Directors was
reconstructed, and reduced to its present number. In the same spirit,
your petitioners would most gladly co-operate with her Majesty’s
government in correcting any defects which may be considered to exist in
the details of the present system; and they would be prepared, without a
murmur, to relinquish their trust altogether, if a better system for the
control of the government of India can be devised. But as they believe
that, in the construction of such a system, there are conditions which
cannot, without the most dangerous consequences, be departed from, your
petitioners respectfully and deferentially submit to the judgment of
your [lordships’] honourable House their view of those conditions, in
the hope that if your [lordships’] honourable House should see reason to
agree in that view, you will withhold your legislative sanction from any
arrangement for the government of India which does not fulfil the
conditions in question in at least an equal degree with the present.
That your petitioners may venture to assume that it will not be proposed
to vest the home portion of the administration of India in a minister of
the Crown, without the adjunct of a council composed of statesmen
experienced in Indian affairs. Her Majesty’s ministers cannot but be
aware that the knowledge necessary for governing a foreign country, and
in particular a country like India, requires as much special study as
any other profession, and cannot possibly be possessed by any one who
has not devoted a considerable portion of his life to the acquisition of
it.
That in constituting a body of experienced advisers, to be associated
with the Indian minister, your petitioners consider it indispensable to
bear in mind that this body should not only be qualified to advise the
minister, but also, by its advice, to exercise, to a certain degree, a
moral check. It cannot be expected that the minister, as a general rule,
should himself know India; while he will be exposed to perpetual
solicitations from individuals and bodies, either entirely ignorant of
that country, or knowing only enough of it to impose on those who know
still less than themselves, and having very frequently objects in view
other than the interests or good government of India. The influences
likely to be brought to bear on him through the organs of popular
opinion will, in the majority of cases, be equally misleading. The
public opinion of England, itself necessarily unacquainted with Indian
affairs, can only follow the promptings of those who take most pains to
influence it; and these will generally be such as have some private
interest to serve. It is, therefore, your petitioners submit, of the
utmost importance that any council which may form a part of the home
government of India should derive sufficient weight from its
constitution, and from the relation it occupies to the minister, to be a
substantial barrier against those inroads of self-interest and ignorance
in this country from which the government of India has hitherto been
comparatively free, but against which it would be too much to expect
that parliament should of itself afford a sufficient protection.
That your petitioners cannot well conceive a worse form of government
for India, than a minister with a council whom he should be at liberty
to consult or not at his pleasure, or whose advice he should be able to
disregard without giving his reasons in writing, and in a manner likely
to carry conviction. Such an arrangement, your petitioners submit, would
be really liable to the objections in their opinion erroneously urged
against the present system. Your petitioners respectfully represent that
any body of persons associated with the minister, which is not a check,
will be a screen. Unless the council is so constituted as to be
personally independent of the minister; unless it feels itself
responsible for recording an opinion on every Indian subject, and
pressing that opinion on the minister, whether it is agreeable to him or
not; and unless the minister, when he overrules their opinion, is bound
to record his reasons—its existence will only serve to weaken his
responsibility, and to give the colourable sanction of prudence and
experience to measures in the framing of which those qualities have had
no share.
That it would be vain to expect that a new council could have as much
moral influence, and power of asserting its opinion with effect, as the
Court of Directors. A new body can no more succeed to the feelings and
authority which their antiquity and their historical antecedents give to
the East India Company, than a legislature, under a new name, sitting in
Westminster, would have the moral ascendency of the Houses of Lords and
Commons. One of the most important elements of usefulness will thus be
necessarily wanting in any newly constituted Indian Council, as compared
with the present.
That your petitioners find it difficult to conceive that the same
independence, in judgment and act, which characterises the Court of
Directors will be found in any council all of whose members are
nominated by the crown. Owing their nomination to the same authority,
many of them probably to the same individual minister whom they are
appointed to check, and looking to him alone for their re-appointment,
their desire of recommending themselves to him, and their unwillingness
to risk his displeasure by any serious resistance to his wishes, will be
motives too strong not to be in danger of exercising a powerful and
injurious influence over their conduct. Nor are your petitioners aware
of any mode in which that injurious influence could be guarded against,
except by conferring the appointments, like those of the judges, during
good behaviour; which, by rendering it impossible to correct an error
once committed, would be seriously objectionable.
That your petitioners are equally unable to perceive how, if the
controlling body is entirely nominated by the minister, that happy
independence of parliamentary and party influence which has hitherto
distinguished the administration of India, and the appointment to
situations of trust and importance in that country, can be expected to
continue. Your petitioners believe that in no government known to
history have appointments to offices, and especially to high offices,
been so rarely bestowed on any other considerations than those of
personal fitness. This characteristic, but for which, in all
probability, India would long since have been lost to this country, is,
your petitioners conceive, entirely owing to the circumstance that the
dispensers of patronage have been persons unconnected with party, and
under no necessity of conciliating parliamentary support; that
consequently the appointments to offices in India have been, as a rule,
left to the unbiassed judgment of the local authorities; while the
nominations to the civil and military services have been generally
bestowed on the middle classes, irrespective of political
considerations, and in a large proportion on the relatives of persons
who had distinguished themselves by their services in India.
That your petitioners therefore think it essential that at least a
majority of the council which assists the minister for India with its
advice, should hold their seats independently of his appointment.
That it is, in the opinion of your petitioners, no less necessary that
the order of the transaction of business should be such as to make the
participation of the council in the administration of India a
substantial one. That to this end it is, in the opinion of your
petitioners, indispensable that the dispatches to India should not be
prepared by the minister, and laid before the council, but should be
prepared by the council, and submitted to the minister. This would be in
accordance with the natural and obvious principle, that persons, chosen
for their knowledge of a subject, should suggest the mode of dealing
with it, instead of merely giving their opinion on suggestions coming
from elsewhere. This is also the only mode in which the members of the
council can feel themselves sufficiently important, or sufficiently
responsible, to secure their applying their minds to the subjects before
them. It is almost unnecessary for your petitioners to observe, that the
mind is called into far more vigorous action, by being required to
propose, than by merely being called on to assent. The minister has
necessarily the ultimate decision. If he has also the initiative, he has
all the powers which are of any practical moment. A body whose only
recognised function is to find fault, would speedily let that function
fall into desuetude. They would feel that their co-operation in
conducting the government of India was not really desired; that they
were only felt as a clog on the wheels of business. Their criticism on
what had been decided, without their being collectively consulted, would
be felt as importunate as a mere delay and impediment; and their office
would probably be seldom sought, but by those who were willing to allow
its most important duties to become nominal.
That, with the duty of preparing the dispatches to India would naturally
be combined the nomination and control of the home establishments. This
your petitioners consider absolutely essential to the utility of the
council. If the officers through whom they work are in direct dependence
upon an authority higher than theirs, all matters of importance will in
reality be settled between the minister and the subordinates, passing
over the council altogether.
That a third consideration to which your petitioners attach great
importance, is, that the number of the council should not be too
restricted. India is so wide a field, that a practical acquaintance with
every part of its affairs cannot be found combined in any small number
of individuals. The council ought to contain men of general experience
and knowledge of the world, also men specially qualified by financial
and revenue experience, by judicial experience, diplomatic experience,
military experience; it ought to contain persons conversant with the
varied social relations, and varied institutions of Bengal, Madras,
Bombay, the Northwestern Provinces, the Punjaub, and the native states.
Even the present Court of Directors, reduced as it is in numbers by the
act of 1853, does not contain all the varieties of knowledge and
experience desirable in such a body; neither, your petitioners submit,
would it be safe to limit the number to that which would be strictly
sufficient, supposing all the appointments to be the best possible. A
certain margin should be allowed for failures, which, even with the most
conscientious selection, will sometimes occur. Your petitioners,
moreover, cannot overlook the possibility, that if the nomination takes
place by ministers at the head of a political party, it will not always
be made with exclusive reference to personal qualifications; and it is
indispensable to provide that such errors or faults in the nominating
authority, so long as they are only occasional, shall not seriously
impair the efficiency of the body.
That while these considerations plead strongly for a body not less
numerous than the present, even if only regarded as advisers of the
minister; their other office, as a check on the minister, forms, your
petitioners submit, a no less forcible objection to any considerable
reduction of the present number. A body of six or eight will not be
equal to one of eighteen in that feeling of independent self-reliance
which is necessary to induce a public body to press its opinion on a
minister to whom that opinion is unacceptable. However unobjectionably
in other respects so small a body may be constituted, reluctance to give
offence will be likely, unless in extreme cases, to be a stronger
habitual inducement in their minds than the desire to stand up for their
convictions.
That if, in the opinion of your [lordships’] honourable House, a body
can be constituted which unites the above enumerated requisites of good
government, in a greater degree than the Court of Directors, your
petitioners have only to express their humble hope that your endeavours
for that purpose may be successful. But if, in enumerating the
conditions of a good system of home government for India, your
petitioners have, in fact, enumerated the qualities possessed by the
present system, then your petitioners pray that your [lordships’]
honourable House will continue the existing powers of the Court of
Directors.
That your petitioners are aware that the present home government of
India is reproached with being a double government; and that any
arrangement by which an independent check is provided to the discretion
of the minister, will be liable to a similar reproach. But they conceive
that this accusation originates in an entire misconception of the
functions devolving on the home government of India, and in the
application to it of the principles applicable to purely executive
departments. The executive government of India is, and must be, seated
in India itself. The Court of Directors is not so much an executive as a
deliberative body. Its principal function, and that of the home
government generally, is not to direct the details of administration,
but to scrutinise and revise the past acts of the Indian government—to
lay down principles and issue general instructions for their future
guidance—and to give or refuse sanction to great political measures,
which are referred home for approval. These duties are more analogous to
the functions of parliament than to those of an executive board; and it
might almost as well be said that parliament, as that the government of
India, should be constituted on the principles applicable to executive
boards. It is considered an excellence, not a defect in the constitution
of parliament, to be not merely a double but a triple government. An
executive authority, your petitioners submit, may often with advantage
be single, because promptitude is its first requisite. But the function
of passing a deliberate opinion on past measures, and laying down
principles of future policy, is a business which, in the estimation of
your petitioners, admits of and requires the concurrence of more
judgments than one. It is no defect in such a body to be double, and no
excellence to be single, especially when it can only be made so by
cutting off that branch of it which, by previous training, is always the
best prepared—and often the only one which is prepared at all—for its
peculiar duty.
That your petitioners have heard it asserted that, in consequence of
what is called the double government, the Indian authorities are less
responsible to parliament and the nation than other departments of the
government of the empire, since it is impossible to know on which of the
two branches of home government the responsibility ought to rest. Your
petitioners fearlessly affirm that this impression is not only
groundless, but the very reverse of the truth. The home government of
India is not less, but more responsible than any other branch of the
administration of the state; inasmuch as the president of the Board of
Commissioners, who is the minister for India, is as completely
responsible as any other of her Majesty’s ministers; and, in addition,
his advisers also are responsible. It is always certain, in the case of
India, that the president of the Board of Commissioners must have either
commanded or sanctioned all that has been done. No more than this, your
petitioners would submit, can be known in the case of the head of any
department of her Majesty’s government. For it is not, nor can it
rationally be supposed, that any minister of the Crown is without
trusted advisers; and the minister for India must, for obvious reasons,
be more dependent than any other of her Majesty’s ministers, upon the
advice of persons whose lives have been devoted to the subject on which
their advice has been given. But in the case of India such advisers are
assigned to him by the constitution of the government, and they are as
much responsible for what they advise, as he for what he ordains; while,
in other departments, the minister’s only official advisers are the
subordinates in his office, men often of great skill and experience, but
not in the public eye, often unknown to the public even by name;
official reserve precludes the possibility of ascertaining what advice
they give, and they are responsible only to the minister himself. By
what application of terms this can be called responsible government, and
the joint government of your petitioners and the India Board an
irresponsible government, your petitioners think it unnecessary to ask.
That, without knowing the plan on which her Majesty’s ministers
contemplate the transfer to the Crown of the servants of the Company,
your petitioners find themselves unable to approach the delicate
question of the Indian army, further than to point out that the high
military qualities of the officers of that army have unquestionably
sprung, in a great degree, from its being a principal and substantive
army, holding her Majesty’s commissions, and enjoying equal rank with
her Majesty’s officers; and your petitioners would earnestly deprecate
any change in that position.
That your petitioners having regard to all these considerations, humbly
pray your [lordships’] honourable House that you will not give your
sanction to any change in the constitution of the Indian government
during the continuance of the present unhappy disturbances, nor without
a full previous inquiry into the operation of the present system. And
your petitioners further pray, that this inquiry may extend to every
department of Indian administration. Such an inquiry your petitioners
respectfully claim, not only as a matter of justice to themselves, but
because, when, for the first time in this century, the thoughts of every
public man in the country are fixed on India, an inquiry would be more
thorough, and its results would carry much more instruction to the mind
of parliament and of the country, than at any preceding period.
_E. I. Company’s Objections to the First and Second India Bills: April
1858._ (See p. 567.)
It is the duty of your Directors to lay before the Proprietors the two
bills which have been introduced into parliament by the late and by the
present ministry, for divesting the East India Company of all
participation in the government of India, and for framing a new scheme
of administrative agency.
On former occasions, when the ministers of the Crown have submitted
measures to parliament for altering, in any manner, the constitution of
the Indian government, the substance of the measures has been officially
communicated to the Court of Directors, and an opportunity allowed to
them of offering such remarks as their knowledge and experience in
Indian affairs might suggest. The correspondence being afterwards laid
before the Court of Proprietors, formed the most appropriate report
which the Directors could make to their constituents on the measures
under consideration by the legislature. In the present instance, this
opportunity not having been afforded to them, it appears desirable that
they should adopt the present mode of laying before the proprietary body
the observations which it is entitled to expect from its executive
organ, on the bills now before parliament, and on the present posture of
the Company’s affairs.
The Directors cannot but advert with feelings of satisfaction to the
altered tone which public discussion has assumed in regard to the
character of the East India Company, and the merits of the
administration in which the Company has borne so important a part. The
intention of proposing the abolition of the Company’s government was
announced in the midst of, and it may be surmised in deference to, a
clamour, which represented the government of India by the Company as
characterised by nearly every fault of which a civilised government can
be accused, and the Company as the main cause of the recent disasters.
But in the parliamentary discussions which have lately taken place,
there has been an almost universal acknowledgment that the rule of the
Company has been honourable to themselves and beneficial to India; while
no political party, and few individuals of any consideration, have
alleged anything seriously disparaging to the general character of the
Company’s administration. So far, therefore, the stand made by the
Company against the calumnies with which they have been assailed, may be
considered to have been successful.
But the admission generally made, and made explicitly by the proposers
of both the bills, that the existing system works well, has not had the
effect of inducing doubt of the wisdom of hastily abolishing it. Neither
does it seem to have been remembered, that if the system has worked
well, there must be some causes for its having done so, and that it
would be worth while to consider what these are, in order that they
might be retained in any new system. If the constitution which has made
the Indian government what it is, must be abolished, because it is
thought defective in theory, what is substituted should at least be
theoretically unobjectionable. But the constitution of the East India
Company, however anomalous, is far more in accordance with the
acknowledged principles of good government than either of the proposed
bills.
The nature of the case is, indeed, itself so anomalous, that something
anomalous was to be expected in the means by which it could be
successfully dealt with.
All English institutions and modes of political action are adapted to
the case of a nation governing itself. In India, the case to be provided
for is that of the government of one nation by another, separated from
it by half the globe; unlike it in everything which characterises a
people; as a whole, totally unacquainted with it; and without time or
means for acquiring knowledge of it or its affairs.
History presents only two instances in which these or similar
difficulties have been in any considerable degree surmounted. One is the
Roman Empire; the other is the government of India by the East India
Company.
The means which the bills provide for overcoming these difficulties
consist of the unchecked power of a minister. There is no difference of
moment in this respect between the two bills. The minister, it is true,
is to have a council. But the most despotic rulers have councils. The
difference between the council of a despot and a council which prevents
the ruler from being a despot is, that the one is dependent on him, the
other independent; that the one has some power of its own, the other has
not. By the first bill, the whole council is nominated by the minister;
by the second, one-half of it is nominated by him. The functions to be
intrusted to it are left, in both, with some slight exceptions, to the
minister’s own discretion.
The minister is indeed subject to the control of parliament and of the
British nation. But though parliament and the nation exercise a salutary
control over their own affairs, it would be contrary to all experience
to suppose that they will exercise it over the affairs of a hundred
millions of Hindoos and Mohammedans. Habitually, they will doubtless be
hereafter, as they have been heretofore, indifferent and inattentive to
Indian affairs, and will leave them entirely to the minister. The
consequence will be, that in the exceptional cases in which they do
interfere, the interference will not be grounded on knowledge of the
subject, and will probably be, for the most part, confined to cases
where an Indian question is taken up from party motives, as the means of
injuring a minister; or when some Indian malcontent, generally with
objects opposed to good government, succeeds in interesting the
sympathies of the public in his favour. For it is not the people of
India, but rich individuals and societies representing class interests,
who have the means of engaging the ear of the public through the press,
and through agents in parliament. And it is important to remark, that by
the provisions of either of the bills, the House of Commons will be
rendered even less competent, in point of knowledge of Indian affairs,
than at present, since by both bills all the members of the Council of
India will be excluded from it.
The government of dependencies by a minister and his subordinates, under
the sole control of parliament, is not a new experiment in England. That
form of colonial government lost the United States, and had nearly lost
all the colonies of any considerable population and importance. The
colonial administration of this country has only ceased to be a subject
of general condemnation since the principle has been adopted of leaving
all the important colonies to manage their own affairs—a course which
cannot be followed with the people of India. If the control of
parliament has not prevented the habitual mismanagement of countries
inhabited by Englishmen like ourselves, who had every facility for
representing and urging their grievances, it is not likely to be any
effectual protection to Mussulmans and Hindoos.
All governments require constitutional checks; but the constitutional
checks applicable to a case of this peculiar kind must be found within
the governing body itself.
Though England, as a whole, while desiring nothing but to govern India
well, is necessarily ignorant of India, and feels, under ordinary
circumstances, no particular interest in its concerns, there are in
England a certain number of persons who possess knowledge of India, and
feel an interest in its affairs. It seems, therefore, very desirable,
for the sake of India, that England should govern it through, and by
means of, these persons. This would be the case if the organ of
government principally consisted of persons who have passed a
considerable portion of their lives in India, or who feel that habitual
interest in its affairs which is naturally acquired by having aided in
administering them; and if this body, or a majority of it, were
periodically elected by a constituency composed of persons in England
who have served the government for a certain length of time in India, or
whose interests are connected with that country by some permanent tie.
It would be an additional advantage if this constituency had the power
of requiring information, and compelling a public discussion of Indian
questions. These are conditions which, to a considerable extent, the
existing constitution of the East India Company fulfils.
The other great constitutional security for the good government of India
lies in the forms of business. This is a point to which sufficient
importance is not generally attached. The forms of business are the real
constitution of India.
From the necessity of the case, recognised in both the proposed
measures, the administration must be shared, in some proportion, between
a minister and a council. The council may consist of persons possessing
knowledge of India. The minister, except in very rare cases, can possess
little or none. He is placed in office by the action of political party,
which is governed by considerations totally unconnected with India; and,
in the common course of politics, he is removed from office by the time
he has been able to learn his duty. Even in the unusual case, of which
present circumstances are an example, when the minister has made himself
acquainted with India through the discharge of high functions in India
itself, his knowledge is but the knowledge of one man; and one man’s
knowledge of a subject like India, until corrected and completed by that
of other men, is, it may safely be affirmed, wholly insufficient, and if
implicitly trusted, even dangerous. The good government, therefore, of
India, by a minister and a council, depends upon the amount of influence
possessed by the council; and their influence depends upon the forms of
business.
However experienced may be the council, and however inexperienced the
minister, he will have the deciding voice. The power will rest with one
who may know less of the subject than any member of the council, and is
sure to know less than the council collectively, if they are selected
with ordinary judgment. The council will have no substantive power, but
only moral influence. It is, therefore, all-important that this
influence should be upheld. Unless the forms of business are such as to
insure that the council shall exercise its judgment on all questions;
that all matters requiring decision shall be considered by them, and
their views recorded in the initiatory stage, before the minister has
committed himself to an opinion—they will possess no more weight or
influence than the same number of clerks in his office, whom also he can
consult if he pleases; and the power of the minister will be practically
uncontrolled.
In both the bills these considerations are entirely disregarded. The
first bill does not establish any forms of business, but leaves them to
be determined by the minister and his council; in other words, by the
minister. Even, therefore, if the minister first appointed should be
willing to establish forms which would be any restraint upon himself, a
subsequent minister would have it in his power to alter the forms in any
manner he pleased.
The second bill, unlike the first, does establish forms of business; but
such alone as would effectually prevent the council from being a
reality, and would render it a useless pageant.
To make the council a merely consultative body, without initiative,
before whom subjects are only brought after the minister has made up his
mind, is already a fatal inroad upon its usefulness. But by the second
bill the council are not even a consultative body. The minister is under
no obligation to consult them. They are not empowered to hold any
regular meetings. They are to meet only when the minister convenes them,
or on a special requisition by six members. He may send orders to India
without their knowledge when the case is urgent, of which urgency he is
the sole judge. When it is not urgent, his orders must be placed in the
council-room for the perusal of the members for seven days, during which
they are not required, but permitted, to give their opinion, not
collectively, but individually. Their only power, therefore, is that of
recording dissent from a resolution not only taken, but embodied in a
dispatch. And as if this was not enough, provision is made that an
office, always invidious, shall be incapable of being fulfilled in any
but the most invidious manner. The members of council must come forward
individually in declared opposition to the minister, by volunteering a
protest against his announced intentions, or signing a requisition for a
meeting of council to oppose them. Such a council is fitted to serve as
a shield for the minister’s responsibility when it may suit him to seek,
and them to accord, their adhesion; rather than as a restraint on his
power to administer India according to his individual pleasure.
The Directors are bound to admit, that the first of the bills contains
several provisions indicative of a wish to assure to the council a
certain, though small, amount of influence. The administration is to be
carried on in the name of the president in council, and not, as by the
second bill, in that of the Secretary of State alone. The council, as
well as the president, has a voice in the appointment of the home
establishment; while in the second bill all promotions and all
appointments to the principal offices under the council, rest with the
Secretary of State, exclusively; a provision which divests the council
of all control or authority over their own establishment. Again, by
Section XII. of the first bill, no grant involving increase of
expenditure, and no appointment to office or admission to service, can
be made without the concurrence of half the council. This, as far as it
goes, is a real power; but its value is much diminished by the
consideration that those by whom it is to be exercised are the nominees
of the minister, dependent on him for their continuance in office after
a few years.
In some other points the provisions of the second bill seem to have the
advantage. Its council is more numerous; to which, however, little
importance can be attached, if the council has no substantial power. It
also recognises that the whole of the council ought not to be nominated
by the minister, and that some part of it should be elected by a
constituency specially qualified by a knowledge of India. But even in
these, the best points of the bill, it is, in the opinion of the
Directors, very far from unexceptionable. The nomination of even half
the council by the minister, takes away all security for an independent
majority. It may, indeed, be doubted whether there is any sufficient
reason for the minister’s nominating any portion, except the supposed
reluctance of some eligible persons to encounter a canvass. The
proportion of one-third, whom the minister now nominates to the Court of
Directors, seems the largest which, consistently with full security for
independence, can be so appointed.
The provision that each of the members nominated by the Crown shall be
selected as the representative of some particular branch of the service
in India, is still more objectionable. Not only would it preclude the
nomination of the most distinguished man, if the seat in council
appropriated to the department in which he had served were not at the
time vacant, but it would introduce a principle which cannot be too
strongly deprecated—that of class legislation. The council should
comprise the greatest attainable variety of knowledge and experience;
but its members should not consider themselves as severally the
representatives of a certain number of class interests.
The clause which continues to the Proprietors the power of electing some
portion of the council is, so far, deserving of support; and the
principle of enlarging the constituency by the addition of persons of a
certain length of Indian service and residence is, in itself,
unexceptionable; but unless guarded by provisions, such as have never
yet been introduced into any electoral system, so large and scattered a
constituency as that proposed would greatly add to the inconvenience of
canvass: especially as it is not certain that the new electoral body
would adopt, from the old, the salutary custom of re-electing, as the
general practice, whoever has been once chosen, and has not, by
misconduct or incapacity, deserved to forfeit their confidence. The
duties of a member of council would be entirely incompatible with a
continually-recurring canvass of the constituency.
Respecting the proposition for giving the choice of five members of
council to the parliamentary constituencies of five great towns, the
Court of Directors can only express a feeling of amazement. It is not
the mere fact of election by a multitude that constitutes the benefits
of the popular element in government. To produce those benefits, the
affairs of which the people are enabled to control the management must
be their own affairs. Election by multitudinous bodies, the majority of
them of a very low average of education, is not an advantage of popular
government, but, on the contrary, one of its acknowledged drawbacks. To
assign to such a constituency the control, not of their own affairs, but
of the affairs of other people on the other side of the globe, is to
incur the disadvantages of popular institutions without any of the
benefits. The Court of Directors willingly admit the desirableness, if
not necessity, of some provision for including an English element in the
Council of India; but a more objectionable mode than the one proposed of
attaining the object, could scarcely, in their opinion, be devised.
Besides the provisions which relate to the organ of government in
England, the bills contain provisions relating to India itself, which
are open to the strongest objection.
The appointments to the councils at Calcutta and at the subordinate
presidencies, which are now made by the Court of Directors, with the
approbation of the Crown, are transferred by both bills to the
governor-general, and to the governors of Madras and Bombay. The Court
of Directors are convinced that this change would greatly impair the
chances of good government in India. One of the causes which has most
contributed to the many excellences of Indian administration is, that
the governor-general and governors have always been associated with
councillors selected by the authorities at home from among the most
experienced and able members of the Indian service, and who, not owing
their appointments to the head of the government, have generally brought
to the consideration of Indian affairs an independent judgment. In
consequence of this, the measures of a government, necessarily absolute,
have had the advantage, seldom possessed in absolute governments, of
being always preceded by a free and conscientious discussion; while, as
the head of the government has the power, on recording his reasons, to
act contrary to the advice of his council, no public inconvenience can
ever arise from any conflict of opinion. These important officers, who,
by their participation in the government, form so salutary a restraint
on the precipitancy of an inexperienced, or the wilfulness of a
despotically tempered, governor-general or governor, are henceforth to
be appointed by the great functionary whom they are intended to check.
And this restraint is removed, when the necessity for an independent
council will be greater than ever; since the power of appointing the
governor-general, and of recalling him, is taken away from the Company,
and from the body which is to be their substitute. It may be added that
the authorities at home have had the opportunity of being acquainted
with the conduct and services of candidates for council from the
commencement of their career. The governor-general or governor would
often have to nominate a councillor soon after their arrival in India,
when necessarily ignorant of the character and merits of candidates, and
would be entirely dependent on the recommendation of irresponsible
advisers.
Another most objectionable provision demands notice, which is to be
found only in the second bill. A commission, appointed in England, is to
proceed to India, for the purpose of inquiring and reporting on the
principles and details of Indian finance, including the whole revenue
system, and, what is inseparably involved in it, the proprietary rights
and social position of all the great classes of the community. The Court
of Directors cannot believe that such a project will be persisted in. It
would be a step towards the disorganisation of the fabric of government
in India. A commission from England, independent of the local government
of the country, deriving its authority directly from the higher power to
which the local government is subordinate, and instructed to carry back
to the higher power information on Indian affairs which the local
government is not deemed sufficiently trustworthy to afford, would give
a most serious shock to the influence of the local authorities, and
would tend to impress all natives with the belief that the opinions and
decisions of the local government are of small moment, and that the
thing of real importance is the success with which they can contrive
that their claims and objects shall be advocated in England. Up to the
present time, it has been the practice of the home government to uphold
in every way the authority of the governments on the spot; even when
reversing their acts, to do so through the governments themselves, and
to employ no agency except in subordination to them.
From this review of the chief provisions of the bills, which embody the
attempts of two great divisions of English statesmen to frame an organ
of government for India, it will probably appear to the proprietors,
that neither of them is grounded on any sufficient consideration of past
experience, or of the principles applicable to the subject; that the
passing of either would be a calamity to India; and that the attempt to
legislate while the minds of leading men are in so unprepared a state,
is altogether premature.
The opinion of your Directors is, that by all constitutional means the
passing of either bill should be opposed; but that if one or the other
should be determined on for the purpose of transferring the
administration, in name, from the East India Company to the Crown, every
exertion should be used in its passage through committee to divest it of
the mischievous features by which both bills are now deformed, and to
maintain, as at present, a really independent council, having the
initiative of all business, discharging all the duties, and possessing
all the essential powers of the Court of Directors. And it is the
Court’s conviction, that measures might be so framed as to obviate
whatever may be well founded in the complaints made against the present
system—retaining the initiative of the council, and that independence of
action on their part which should be regarded as paramount and
indispensable.
_E. I. Company’s Objections to the Third India Bill: June 1858._ (See p.
570.)
1. Although the bill which has been newly brought in by her Majesty’s
ministers ‘for the better government of India,’ has not yet been
formally communicated to the Court of Directors, the Court, influenced
by the desire which they have already expressed to give all aid in their
power towards rendering the scheme of government, which it is the
pleasure of parliament to substitute for the East India Company, as
efficient for its purposes as possible, have requested us[205] to lay
before your lordship,[206] and through you before her Majesty’s
government, a few observations on some portions of the bill.
2. Having in documents which have been presented to parliament expressed
their sentiments fully on all the general features of the subject, the
Court refrain from offering any further arguments on points upon which
the government and the House of Commons seem to have pronounced a
decided opinion. The joint government of a minister and a council,
composed in majority of persons of Indian experience, deriving their
appointments only partially from ministerial nomination, and all of them
holding office on a tenure independent of the minister, is a combination
which fulfils to a considerable extent the conditions of a good organ of
government for India. The Court would have much preferred that in the
constitution of the council more extensive recourse had been had to the
elective principle. But if they cannot hope that this course will be
adopted, they see many advantages in the provision by which one-half the
number, instead of being named by the government, will be selected by a
responsible body, intimately connected with India, to whom the
qualification of candidates will in general be accurately known, and who
will be under strong inducements to make such a choice as will tend to
increase the credit and consideration of the body.
3. With regard to the qualifications prescribed for members of council,
the Court desire to offer a suggestion. Her Majesty’s present government
have, on many occasions, expressed a desire to secure the Crown
appointments against the evils of abuse of patronage. The security
against such abuse has hitherto consisted in the strict limitation of
the appointments to persons who have served a considerable number of
years in India. While the Court fully agree with her Majesty’s
government in recognising the desirableness of an English element, it
does not seem to them advisable that this element should extend to
nearly half the council, only a bare majority being reserved for persons
of Indian experience. Knowledge of India is, after all, the most
important requisite for a seat in the Indian Council; while it is
chiefly in the English nominations that there is any present danger lest
appointments should be obtained through political or parliamentary
influence—from which influence, unless introduced through that channel,
the council, like the Court of Directors, may be expected to be
altogether free. The Court, therefore, recommend that the qualification
of ten years’ Indian service or residence be made imperative on at least
two-thirds instead of a mere majority of the fifteen members of council.
They also think it questionable if the interests of India will be
promoted by the exclusion of the whole of the members of the council
from seats in parliament. These are the only modifications which we are
requested to suggest in the provisions respecting the composition of the
council.
[The remaining objections made by the Directors were little more than a
repetition of those made against the first and second bills (given _in
extenso_ in a preceding page); and need not be reproduced here. The
Directors expressed a dislike or apprehension of the subordinate
position in which the Council would be placed; of the autocratic power
to be possessed by the Secretary for India; of the transference of the
powers of the Secret Committee wholly and solely to him; of the proposed
mode of making appointments and exercising patronage; of any disturbance
in the mode of auditing accounts; and of the appointment of any
Commission of Inquiry in India which should appear derogatory to the
dignity of the local governments. Many of these objections were listened
to, and were productive of modifications during the discussion of the
bill. The result will be seen in the next article of this Appendix.]
_Abstract of Act for the Better Government of India—21 and 22 Vict. cap.
106.—Received Royal Assent August 2, 1858._ (See p. 573.)
_Transfer of Governing Powers._
I. Governing powers transferred from the East India Company to the
Crown.
II. All rights, territories, revenues, and liabilities similarly
transferred.
III. A Secretary of State to exercise all the governing powers
heretofore exercised by Court of Directors, Court of Proprietors, and
Board of Control.
IV. Provision concerning sitting of secretary and under-secretary in
House of Commons.
V. Concerning re-election of secretaries to House of Commons.
VI. Secretary of State for India to receive salary equal to those of
other secretaries of state.
_Council of India._
VII. A Council of India, of 15 persons, to be formed.
VIII. Court of Directors to elect 7 members of this Council, from among
persons possessing certain qualifications; and the Crown to appoint the
other 8.
IX. Vacancies among the 8 to be filled up by the Crown; and among the
other 7, by election by the Council.
X. Nine members of the Council, at least, must have had not less than
ten years’ experience in India.
XI. Members to hold office for life, or during good behaviour.
XII. Members not to sit in parliament.
XIII. Annual salary of £1200 to each member.
XIV. Members may resign; if after ten years’ service, on a pension of
£500, subject to certain conditions.
XV. Secretaries and other officers of Company to become officers of
Council of India—subject to any changes afterwards made by Privy Council
and sanctioned by parliament.
XVI. Secretary in Council to make all subsequent appointments in the
home establishment.
XVII. Compensation to such officers of the Company as are not retained
permanently by the Council.
XVIII. Any officer of the Company, transferred to the service of the
Council, to have a claim to the same pension or superannuation allowance
as if the change of government had not taken place.
_Duties and Proceedings of the Council._
XIX. Council to conduct affairs of India in England; but all
correspondence to be in the name of the Secretary of State.
XX. Secretary of State may divide the Council into committees.
XXI. Secretary of State to sit and vote as president, and appoint
vice-president.
XXII. Five to be a quorum; meetings convened by Secretary of State not
fewer than one each week.
XXIII. Secretary of State to decide questions on which members differ.
Any dissentient member may require his opinion to be placed upon record.
XXIV. Secretary’s proceedings to be open to all the Council, except in
‘secret service’ dispatches.
XXV. Secretary to give reasons for any exercise of his veto against the
decision of the majority.
XXVI. Secretary allowed to overrule the two preceding clauses in urgent
cases.
XXVII. Functions of the ‘secret committee’ transferred to Secretary of
State.
XXVIII. Dispatches marked ‘secret’ not to be opened by members of
Council.
_Appointments and Patronage._
XXIX. Of the high appointments in India, some to be made by the Crown,
some by the Council, and some by the Governor-general.
XXX. Inferior appointments to be made as heretofore, except transference
of patronage from Court of Directors to Council.
XXXI. Special provision for civil service in India.
XXXII. Secretary in Council to make rules for examination of persons
intended for junior situations in civil service of India.
XXXIII. Appointments to naval and military cadetships to vest in the
Crown.
XXXIV. Competitive examinations for engineers and artillery of the
Indian army.
XXXV. A certain ratio of cadetships to be given to the sons of persons
who have served in India.
XXXVI. All the other cadetships to be in the gift of the members of the
Council, subject to approval; the Secretary of State to have twice as
many nominations as an ordinary member.
XXXVII. In all unchanged rules concerning appointments, power of Court
of Directors to be vested in Council.
XXXVIII. The same in reference to any dismissal from service.
_Transfer of Property._
XXXIX. Company’s property, credits, and debits, to revert to the
Crown—except the _East India Stock_ and the dividends thereon.
XL. Secretary in Council may buy, sell, or borrow, in the name of the
Crown, for the service of India.
_Revenues._
XLI. Expenditure of revenues in India wholly under Secretary in Council.
XLII. Liabilities of Company, and dividends on India stock, to be borne
by Secretary in Council out of revenues of India.
XLIII. Secretary in Council to keep a cash account with the Bank of
England, and to be responsible for all payments in relation to India
revenue.
XLIV. Transfer of cash balance from the Company to the Council.
XLV. A stock account to be opened at Bank of England.
XLVI. Transfer of stock accounts.
XLVII. Mode of managing Council’s finances at the Bank.
XLVIII. Transfer of Exchequer bills, &c., from Company to Council.
XLIX. Power of issuing bonds, debentures, &c.
L. Provisions concerning forgery.
LI. Regulations of audit department.
LII. The Crown to appoint auditor of Indian accounts, to whom all
needful papers are to be sent by Secretary in Council.
LIII. Annual accounts to be furnished to parliament of the revenue and
expenditure of India; accompanied by reports on the moral and material
progress of the several presidencies.
LIV. War in India to be made known to parliament within a specified
period.
LV. India revenues not to pay for wars unconnected with India.
_Existing Establishments._
LVI. Company’s army and navy transferred to the Crown, but with all
existing contracts and engagements holding good.
LVII. Future powers as to conditions of service.
LVIII. All commissions held under the Company to be valid as under the
Crown.
LIX. Regulations of service to be subject to future change, if deemed
necessary.
LX. Court of Directors and Court of Proprietors cease to hold power in
reference to government of India.
LXI. Board of Control abolished.
LXII. Records and archives of Company to be given up to Council—except
stock and dividend books.
LXIII. Powers of Governor-general, on assuming duties of that office.
LXIV. Existing enactments and provisions to remain in force, unless
specially repealed.
_Actions and Contracts._
LXV. Secretary in Council may sue and be sued as a body corporate.
LXVI. And may take the place of the Company in any still-pending
actions.
LXVII. Treaties and covenants made by the Company to remain binding.
LXVIII. Members not _personally_ liable for such treaties or covenants.
LXIX. A Court of Directors still to exist, but in smaller number than
before, and having powers relating only to the management of the
Company’s dividend and a few minor subjects.
LXX. Quarterly courts not in future obligatory.
LXXI. Company’s liability ceases, on all matters now taken under the
care of the Council.
_Saving of Certain Rights of the Company._
LXXII. Secretary in Council to pay dividends on India stock out of India
revenue.
LXXIII. Dividends to constitute a preferential charge.
_Commencement of the Act._
LXXIV. Commences thirty days after day of receiving royal assent.
LXXV. Company’s orders to be obeyed in India until the change of
government shall have been proclaimed in the several presidencies.
_The Indian Mutiny Relief Fund._ (See p. 226.)
This noble manifestation of kind feeling towards the sufferers in India,
which originated in a public meeting held in London on the 25th of
August 1857, assumed munificent proportions during the next following
year, when the colonists and Englishmen residing abroad had had time to
respond to the appeal made to them. In a report prepared by the
Committee, on the 1st of November 1858, it was announced that the sum
placed in their charge amounted, up to that time, to £434,729. They had
remitted £127,287 to India, there to be distributed by auxiliary local
committees; they had assisted sufferers after their return to, or during
their residence in, the home country, to the extent of £35,757; and
their management expenses had amounted to £6224. There remained,
invested at interest, the sum of £265,461, applicable to further cases
of need. It is interesting to notice the kind of persons to whom relief
was afforded, on account of the varied privations to which the mutiny
had subjected them. The sum of £35,757 expended in England, was mostly
in donations to the following numbers and classes of persons:
32 Military officers.
86 Widows and children of officers.
25 Wives of officers.
25 Orphans of officers.
51 Other relatives of officers.
13 Disabled soldiers.
298 Widows of soldiers.
423 Children of soldiers.
82 Other relatives of soldiers.
10 Clergymen and missionaries.
6 Widows of Clergymen.
1 Wife of missionary.
23 Widows and orphans of civilians.
75 Planters, railway officials, &c.
_Queen Victoria’s Proclamation to the Princes, Chiefs, and People of
India.—Read in the principal Cities of India, November 1, 1858._ (See p.
612.)
VICTORIA, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain
and Ireland, and of the Colonies and Dependencies thereof in Europe,
Asia, Africa, America, and Australasia, Queen, Defender of the Faith.
Whereas, for divers weighty reasons, we have resolved, by and with the
advice and consent of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons in
Parliament assembled, to take upon ourselves the government of the
territories in India, heretofore administered in trust for us by the
Honourable East India Company:
Now, therefore, we do by these presents notify and declare that, by the
advice and consent aforesaid, we have taken upon ourselves the said
government; and we hereby call upon all our subjects within the said
territories to be faithful and to bear true allegiance to us, our heirs
and successors, and to submit themselves to the authority of those whom
we may hereafter from time to time see fit to appoint to administer the
government of our said territories, in our name and on our behalf.
And we, reposing especial trust and confidence in the loyalty, ability,
and judgment of our right trusty and well-beloved cousin and councillor,
Charles John Viscount Canning, do hereby constitute and appoint him, the
said Viscount Canning, to be our first Viceroy and Governor-general in
and over our said territories, and to administer the government thereof
in our name, and generally to act in our name and on our behalf: subject
to such orders and regulations as he shall, from time to time, receive
from us through one of our principal Secretaries of State.
And we do hereby confirm in their several offices, civil and military,
all persons now employed in the service of the Honourable East India
Company, subject to our future pleasure, and to such laws and
regulations as may hereafter be enacted.
We hereby announce to the native Princes of India that all treaties and
engagements made with them by or under the authority of the Honourable
East India Company, are by us accepted, and will be scrupulously
maintained; and we look for the like observance on their part.
We desire no extension of our present territorial possessions; and while
we will permit no aggression upon our dominions or our rights to be
attempted with impunity, we shall sanction no encroachment on those of
others. We shall respect the rights, dignity, and honour of native
princes as our own; and we desire that they, as well as our own
subjects, should enjoy that prosperity and that social advancement which
can only be secured by internal peace and good government.
We hold ourselves bound to the natives of our Indian territories by the
same obligations of duty which bind us to all our other subjects; and
those obligations, by the blessing of Almighty God, we shall faithfully
and conscientiously fulfil.
Firmly relying ourselves on the truth of Christianity, and acknowledging
with gratitude the solace of religion, we disclaim alike the right and
the desire to impose our convictions on any of our subjects. We declare
it to be our Royal will and pleasure that none be in anywise favoured,
none molested or disquieted, by reason of their religious faith or
observances, but that all shall alike enjoy the equal and impartial
protection of the law; and we do strictly charge and enjoin all those
who may be in authority under us that they abstain from all interference
with the religious belief or worship of any of our subjects, on pain of
our highest displeasure.
And it is our further will that, so far as may be, our subjects, of
whatever race or creed, be freely and impartially admitted to offices in
our service, the duties of which they may be qualified, by their
education, ability, and integrity, duly to discharge.
We know and respect the feelings of attachment with which the natives of
India regard the lands inherited by them from their ancestors, and we
desire to protect them in all rights connected therewith, subject to the
equitable demands of the State; and we will that, generally, in framing
and administering the law, due regard be paid to the ancient rights,
usages, and customs of India.
We deeply lament the evils and misery which have been brought upon India
by the acts of ambitious men, who have deceived their countrymen by
false reports, and led them into open rebellion. Our power has been
shewn by the suppression of that rebellion in the field; we desire to
shew our mercy by pardoning the offences of those who have been thus
misled, but who desire to return to the path of duty.
Already in one province, with a view to stop the further effusion of
blood, and to hasten the pacification of our Indian dominions, our
Viceroy and Governor-general has held out the expectation of pardon, on
certain terms, to the great majority of those who in the late unhappy
disturbances have been guilty of offences against our government; and
has declared the punishment which will be inflicted on those whose
crimes place them beyond the reach of forgiveness. We approve and
confirm the said act of our Viceroy and Governor-general, and do further
announce and proclaim as follows:
Our clemency will be extended to all offenders, save and except those
who have been or shall be convicted of having directly taken part in the
murder of British subjects.
With regard to such, the demands of justice forbid the exercise of
mercy.
To those who have willingly given asylum to murderers, knowing them to
be such, or who may have acted as leaders or instigators in revolt,
their lives alone can be guaranteed; but in appointing the penalty due
to such persons, full consideration will be given to the circumstances
under which they have been induced to throw off their allegiance; and
large indulgence will be shewn to those whose crimes may appear to have
originated in a too credulous acceptance of the false reports circulated
by designing men.
To all others in arms against the government, we hereby promise
unconditional pardon, amnesty, and oblivion of all offences against
ourselves, our crown and dignity, on their return to their homes and
peaceful pursuits.
It is our Royal pleasure that these terms of grace and amnesty should be
extended to all those who comply with their conditions before the first
day of January next.
When, by the blessing of Providence, internal tranquillity shall be
restored, it is our earnest desire to stimulate the peaceful industry of
India, to promote works of public utility and improvement, and to
administer its government for the benefit of all our subjects resident
therein. In their prosperity will be our strength, in their contentment
our security, and in their gratitude our best reward. And may the God of
all power grant unto us, and to those in authority under us, strength to
carry out these our wishes for the good of our people.
_Viscount Canning’s Proclamation.—Issued at Allahabad, November 1,
1858._ (See p. 612.)
Her Majesty the Queen having declared that it is her gracious pleasure
to take upon herself the government of the British territories in India,
the Viceroy and Governor-general hereby notifies that from this day all
acts of the government of India will be done in the name of the Queen
alone.
From this day, all men of every race and class who, under the
administration of the Honourable East India Company, have joined to
uphold the honour and power of England, will be the servants of the
Queen alone.
The Governor-general summons them, one and all, each in his degree, and
according to his opportunity, and with his whole heart and strength, to
aid in fulfilling the gracious will and pleasure of the Queen, as set
forth in her royal proclamation.
From the many millions of her Majesty’s native subjects in India, the
Governor-general will now, and at all times, exact a loyal obedience to
the call which, in words full of benevolence and mercy, their Sovereign
has made upon their allegiance and faithfulness.
[Illustration]
-----
Footnote 205:
The chairman and deputy-chairman.
Footnote 206:
Lord Stanley, president of the Board of Control.
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE.
Events in India.
1857.
Jan. 22. Cartridge disturbances began at Dumdum.
Feb. 6. Cartridge grievances inquired into at Barrackpore.
Feb. 11. General Hearsey warned government of disaffection.
Feb. 26. 19th Bengal N. I. riotous at Berhampore.
Mar. 26. Cartridge disturbances at Umballa.
Mar. 27. Proclamation explaining Cartridge question.
Mar. 29. 34th B. N. I. riotous at Barrackpore.
Mar. 31. 19th B. N. I. disbanded and dismissed.
Apr. 24. Cartridge disturbances at Meerut.
May 1. Cartridge disturbances at Lucknow.
May 3. 7th Oude Infantry mutinied at Lucknow.
May 5. 34th B. N. I. disbanded and dismissed.
May 9. 3d B. N. C. punished at Meerut.
May 10. COMMENCEMENT OF THE GREAT REVOLT AT MEERUT.
May 10. Troops in Company’s pay on this day—38,000 Europeans,
200,000 Natives.
May 11. Meerut mutineers (11th and 20th B. N. I., and 3d B. N.
C.) marched to Delhi.
May 11. 38th, 54th, and 74th B. N. I., mutinied at Delhi.
May 13. 16th, 26th, and 49th B. N. I., and 8th B. N. C., disarmed
at Meean Meer near Lahore.
May 14. General Anson departed from Simla, to head troops.
May 16. B. N. Sappers and Miners mutinied at Meerut.
May 17. 25th B. N. I. riotous at Calcutta.
May 19. Anson’s Proclamation concerning cartridges.
May 20. 55th B. N. I. mutinied at Murdan.
May 20. 9th B. N. I. mutinied at Allygurh and vicinity,
May 21. First siege-column left Umballa for Delhi.
May 21. Europeans at Cawnpore began their intrenchment.
May 22. 24th, 27th, and 51st B. N. I., with 5th B. N. C.,
disarmed at Peshawur.
May 24. Colvin’s proclamation—disapproved by Viscount Canning.
May 24. Portion of Gwalior Horse mutinied at Hattrass.
May 24. General Anson left Umballa for Delhi.
May 27. General Anson died at Kurnaul
May 27. Wilson’s Field-force left Meerut for Delhi.
May 28. Reed succeeded Anson provisionally.
May 28. 15th and 30th B. N. I. mutinied at Nuseerabad.
May 30. Portions of 13th, 48th, and 71st B. N. I., with 7th N.
C., mutinied at Lucknow.
May 30. Wilson defeated Delhi rebels at Ghazeeoodeen Nuggur.
May 31. Wilson defeated Delhi rebels, near the Hindoun.
May 31. Barnard left Kurnaul to command army against Delhi.
May 31. 28th B. N. I. mutinied at Shahjehanpoor.
June 1. 44th and 67th B. N. I. disarmed at Agra.
June 3. 17th B. N. I. mutinied at Azimghur.
June 3. 41st B. N. I., 9th and 10th Oude Irreg. I., and 2d Oude
Mil. Police, mutinied at Seetapoor.
June 3. 29th B. N. I. mutinied at Mooradabad.
June 3. 72d B. N. I., and a wing of 1st B. N. C., mutinied at
Neemuch.
June 4. 37th B. N. I., 13th Irreg. C., and Loodianah Sikhs,
mutinied at Benares.
June 4. 12th B. N. I., and 14th Irreg. C., mutinied at Jhansi.
June 5. 1st, 53d, and 56th B. N. I., and 2d B. N. C., mutinied at
Cawnpore.
June 5. Wing of Loodianah Sikhs mutinied at Jounpoor.
June 6. Barnard and Wilson joined forces at Bhagput.
June 6. 6th B. N. I. mutinied at Allahabad.
June 6. ? Hurrianah Battalion mutinied at Hansi.
June 6. ? Bhurtpore Levies mutinied at Bhurtpore.
June 7. 36th and 61st B. N. I., and 6th B. C., mutinied at
Jullundur.
June 8. 22d B. N. I., and 6th Oude I., mutinied at Fyzabad.
June 8. ? Massacre of Europeans at Jhansi.
June 8. Barnard defeated Delhi rebels at Badulla Serai.
June 8. Barnard arrived with siege-army before Delhi.
June 9. 15th Irreg. C. mutinied at Sultanpore.
June 9. Europeans driven from Futtehpoor by rebels.
June 10. 1st Oude Irreg. I. mutinied at Pershadeepore.
June 10. Wing of 12th B. N. I., and 14th Irreg. C., mutinied at
Nowgong.
June 10. ? Europeans driven from Neemuch by rebels.
June 11. Neill relieved Allahabad from the rebels.
June 11. 60th B. N. I. mutinied at Rohtuk.
June 12. First boat-party from Futteghur massacred by Nena Sahib.
June 13. Press ‘Gagging’ Act passed at Calcutta.
June 13. 45th and 57th B. N. I. mutinied at Ferozpore.
June 14. 43d and 70th B. N. I. and 2d N. C. disarmed at
Barrackpore.
June 14. Gwalior Contingent mutinied at Gwalior.
June 15. King of Oude under surveillance at Calcutta.
June 18. 10th B. N. I. mutinied at Futteghur.
June 19. Defeat of Nuseerabad rebels outside Delhi.
June 23. Nagpoor Irreg. C. disarmed at Nagpoor.
June 23. Severe Battle outside Delhi.
June 26. 33d and 35th B. N. I. disarmed at Phillour.
June 27. First news of the Revolt reached England.
June 27. Boat-massacre at Cawnpore, by Nena Sahib.
June 30. Disastrous Battle of Chinhut, near Lucknow.
June 30. 4th Irreg. C. mutinied at Mozuffernugger.
June 30. Europeans at Saugor intrench themselves in fort.
July 1. Europeans driven out of Indore.
July 1. 23d B. N. I. mutinied at Mhow.
July 1. Siege of Europeans in Lucknow began.
July 2. Severe Battle outside Delhi.
July 2. Rohilcund mutineers entered Delhi.
July 3. Mussulman Conspiracy discovered at Patna.
July 4. Death of Sir H. Lawrence at Lucknow.
July 4. Kotah Contingent mutinied at Agra.
July 5. Death of Sir H. Barnard outside Delhi.
July 5. Reed took command of siege-army.
July 5. Disastrous Battle of Shahgunje, near Agra.
July 7. 14th B. N. I. mutinied at Jelum.
July 7. 58th B. N. I. disarmed at Rawul Pindee.
July 7. Havelock’s column left Allahabad for Cawnpore.
July 7. 42d B. N. I., and 3d Irreg. C., mutinied at Saugor.
July 9. 46th B. N. I., and 9th C., mutinied at Sealkote.
July 11. Second boat-party from Futteghur arrived at Bithoor.
July 12. Nicholson defeated Sealkote mutineers.
July 12. Havelock defeated rebels at Futtehpoor.
July 12. Sir Colin Campbell left England for India.
July 14. Severe Battle outside Delhi.
July 15. Havelock defeated rebels at Aong.
July 15. Havelock defeated rebels at Pandoo Nuddee.
July 15. Massacre at Cawnpore, by Nena Sahib.
July 16. Havelock defeated Nena Sahib at Aherwa.
July 17. Havelock entered Cawnpore victoriously.
July 17. Havelock defeated Nena Sahib near Bithoor.
July 17. Reed resigned command before Delhi—Wilson succeeded.
July 20. Fierce Attack by rebels on Lucknow Garrison.
July 24. 12th Irreg. C. mutinied at Segowlie.
July 25. Havelock crossed Ganges into Oude.
July 25. 7th, 8th, and 40th B. N. I. mutinied at Dinapoor.
July 26. Nearly 6000 persons sheltered in Agra Fort, of whom 2000
children.
July 27. Mr Wake’s defence of Arrah commenced.
July 29. 26th B. N. I. mutinied at Lahore.
July 29. Havelock defeated rebels at Onao.
July 29. Havelock defeated rebels at Busherutgunje.
July 30. Captain Dunbar’s disaster at Arrah.
July 31. Ramgurh Infantry mutinied at Ramgurh.
July 31. Siege-army before Delhi = 6918 effectives, and 1116 sick
and wounded.
Aug. 1. 63d B. N. I. and 11th Irreg. C. disarmed at Berhampore.
Aug. 1. Severe Battle outside Delhi.
Aug. 1. 27th Bombay N. I. mutinied at Kolapore.
Aug. 2. Vincent Eyre defeated Koer Singh near Arrah.
Aug. 8. 59th B. N. I. disarmed at Umritsir.
Aug. 8. Nicholson arrived with his Column at Delhi.
Aug. 10. Severe Battle outside Delhi.
Aug. 12. Havelock’s second victory at Busherutgunje.
Aug. 12. Vincent Eyre defeated Koer Singh at Jugdispore.
Aug. 13. Havelock retreated across Ganges to Cawnpore.
Aug. 14. 5th Irreg. C. mutinied at Berhampore.
Aug. 15-18. Hodson defeated rebels outside Delhi.
Aug. 16. Havelock defeated Nena Sahib at Bithoor.
Aug. 20. Fierce attack by the rebels on Lucknow Residency.
Aug. 22. Jhodpore Legion mutinied at Erinpoora.
Aug. 24. Montgomery defeated rebels at Allygurh.
Aug. 25. Nicholson won Battle of Nujuffghur near Delhi,
Aug. 25. Meeting in London at the Mansion-house, to establish
Indian Mutiny Relief Fund.
Aug. 28. 51st B. N. I. mutinied at Peshawur.
Sep. 5. Outram’s Column left Allahabad for Cawnpore.
Sep. 5. Fierce attack by rebels on Lucknow Residency.
Sep. 7. Indore mutineers captured Dholpore.
Sep. 7. Siege-army before Delhi = 13,000 men.
Sep. 9. Mr Colvin died at Agra.
Sep. 11. Cannonading of Delhi commenced.
Sep. 11. Viscount Eyre defeated rebels at Koondun Puttee.
Sep. 14. Delhi entered by storm—death of Nicholson.
Sep. 15-20. Gradual Conquest of Delhi city and fortifications.
Sep. 15-20. Outram joined Havelock and Neill at Cawnpore.
Sep. 16. 50th B. N. I. mutinied at Nagode.
Sep. 18. 52d B. N. I. mutinied at Jubbulpoor.
Sep. 19. Outram and Havelock crossed Ganges into Oude.
Sep. 20. Goorkhas defeated rebels at Mundoree.
Sep. 21. Hodson captured King and Princes of Delhi.
Sep. 23. Outram and Havelock captured the Alum Bagh.
Sep. 25. Outram and Havelock entered Lucknow Residency.
Sep. 25. Death of Neill at Lucknow.
Sep. 27. Outram and Havelock besieged in Residency.
Sep. 28. Greathed defeated Delhi rebels at Bolundshuhur.
Oct. 3. Peel’s Naval Brigade arrived at Allahabad.
Oct. 5. Greathed defeated Delhi rebels at Allygurh.
Oct. 9. 32d B. N. I. mutinied at Deoghur.
Oct. 10. Greathed defeated Indore rebels near Agra.
Oct. 15. Gwalior Contingent took the field, as a rebel army.
Oct. 15. Rajah of Kotah’s troops mutinied.
Oct. 19. Greathed and Hope Grant retook Minpooree.
Oct. 26. Greathed and Hope Grant arrived at Cawnpore.
Oct. 28. Sir Colin Campbell started from Calcutta, for scene of
hostilities.
Nov. 1. Peel’s Naval Brigade defeated rebels at Kudjna.
Nov. 9. Mr Cavanagh’s adventure at Lucknow.
Nov. 9. Europeans besieged in Fort of Neemuch.
Nov. 9. Sir Colin Campbell crossed Ganges into Oude.
Nov. 12. Sir Colin Campbell captured Jelalabad Fort.
Nov. 14-17. Sir Colin Campbell fought his way into Lucknow.
Nov. 18. Wing of 34th B. N. I. mutinied at Chittagong.
Nov. 20. ? 73d B. N. I. mutinied at Dacca.
Nov. 23. British evacuated Lucknow.
Nov. 24. Stuart defeated Bundela rebels near Mundesoor.
Nov. 25. Death of Havelock, outside Lucknow.
Nov. 27-28. Windham beaten by Gwalior rebels near Cawnpore.
Nov. 29. Lucknow Garrison recross Ganges to Cawnpore.
Dec. 6. Sir Colin defeated 25,000 rebels at Cawnpore.
Dec. 9. Hope Grant defeated rebels at Serai Ghât.
Dec. 14-17. Seaton defeated rebels in Minpooree district.
Dec. 19. Government announced to East India Company an approaching
change in Company’s powers.
Dec. 28. Osborne reconquered Myhere from Bundela rebels.
Dec. 30. Wood defeated rebels near Sumbhulpore.
Dec. 31. East India Company protested against the proposed
legislation for India.
1858.
Jan. 1. Bareilly mutineers defeated at Huldwanee.
Jan. 3. Sir Colin Campbell arrived at Futteghur.
Jan. 6. Jung Bahadoor and his Goorkha army entered Goruckpore.
Jan. 6. Raines defeated a body of rebels at Rowah.
Jan. 12. Outram defeated 30,000 rebels outside Alum Bagh.
Jan. 27. Adrian Hope defeated rebels at Shumshabad.
Jan. 27. Trial of the King of Delhi commenced.
Jan. 28. East India Company petitioned Parliament against
government proceedings.
Feb. 3. Rose liberated the Europeans at Saugor.
Feb. 4. Sir Colin returned to Cawnpore from Futteghur.
Feb. 4. Maxwell repulsed Gwalior rebels at Chowra.
Feb. 9. Sir Colin and Canning met at Allahabad.
Feb. 9. Delhi and Meerut divisions placed under Punjaub
government.
Feb. 10. M’Causland repulsed Bareilly rebels at Sunda.
Feb. 11. Great convoy of women and children left Agra.
Feb. 12. Lord Palmerston brought in India Bill No. 1.
Feb. 12-18. Debates thereon—government majority, 318 to 173.
Feb. 19. Franks defeated Bunda Hossein at Chundah.
Feb. 19. Franks defeated Mahomed Hossein at Humeerpoor.
Feb. 20. Palmerston Ministry resigned.
Feb. 21. Derby Ministry formed—Lord Ellenborough at the India
Board.
Feb. 21. Outram repulsed 20,000 rebels at Alum Bagh.
Feb. 23. Hope Grant took Meeangunje from Oude rebels.
Feb. 26. Goorkhas captured fort of Mobarukhpoor in Oude.
Feb. 28. Sir Colin crossed Ganges, to head his army.
Mar. 2. Sir Colin advanced to the Alum Bagh.
Mar. 2-21. Gradual conquest of Lucknow from rebels.
Mar. 3. Viscount Canning’s Proclamation to the Oudians.
Mar. 4. Rose defeated Bundelas at Mudenpore Pass.
Mar. 5. Rowcroft repulsed 12,000 rebels at Goruckpore.
Mar. 5. Goorkhas defeated Oude rebels at Kandoo Nuddee.
Mar. 10. Rose defeated rebel Rajah of Shagurh.
Mar. 10. Roberts headed the Rajpootana Field-force.
Mar. 11. Jung Bahadoor joined Sir Colin outside Lucknow.
Mar. 11. Showers defeated a body of rebels at Bah.
Mar. 16. Return of the Guide Corps to Peshawur.
Mar. 17. Stuart captured Chendaree from rebels.
Mar. 21. Rose with Siege-army arrived before Jhansi.
Mar. 21. Lucknow finally conquered by British.
Mar. 22. Millman repulsed by Azimghur rebels at Atrowlia.
Mar. 22. Roberts with Siege-army arrived before Kotah.
Mar. 25. Moncrieff routed a body of Coles at Chuckerderpore.
Mar. 26. Mr Disraeli brought in India Bill No. 2.
Mar. 29. Army of Oude broken up into separate columns.
Mar. 30. Roberts captured Kotah.
Apr. 1. Rose defeated Tanteea Topee outside Jhansi.
Apr. 2. Rose captured Jhansi—Ranee escaped.
Apr. 2. Kerr defeated Dinapoor rebels near Azimghur.
Apr. 2. Death of Captain Sir William Peel at Cawnpore.
Apr. 6. Seaton defeated Minpooree Rajah at Kankur.
Apr. 7. East India Company protested against both India Bills.
Apr. 12. House of Commons determined to proceed by Resolutions on
India Bill.
Apr. 14. Disaster at Rhodamow under Walpole.
Apr. 14. Death of Adrian Hope at Rhodamow.
Apr. 17. Rowcroft defeated rebels at Amorah.
Apr. 17. Jones defeated Rohilcund rebels at Nagul.
Apr. 18. Sir Colin resumed operations from Cawnpore.
Apr. 18. Douglas defeated Koer Singh at Azimutgurh.
Apr. 18. Douglas defeated Koer Singh at Muneer Khas.
Apr. 19. Ellenborough’s ‘Secret Dispatch’ written.
Apr. 19. Whitlock took Banda, and defeated Nawab.
Apr. 21. Le Grand’s disaster at Jugdispore.
Apr. 21. Jones defeated Rohilcund rebels at Nageena.
Apr. 21. Koer Singh eluded Douglas, and crossed Ganges.
Apr. 22. Walpole defeated rebels at Sirsa.
Apr. 25. Jones recovered Mooradabad from Oude rebels.
Apr. 25. Sir Colin reached Futteghur.
Apr. 27. Sir Colin entered Rohilcund.
Apr. 28. Sir Colin joined Walpole at Ramgunga.
Apr. 30. Sir Colin entered Shahjehanpoor.
Apr. 30. Penny’s Column won Battle of Kukerowlee.
Apr. 30. Death of Penny at Kukerowlee.
Apr. 30. Mr Disraeli brought in ‘Resolutions’ in House of Commons.
May 3. Lugard crossed Ganges in pursuit of Koer Singh.
May 3-11. Hall held fort of Shahjehanpoor against 8000 rebels.
May 5. Sir Colin defeated rebels outside Bareilly.
May 7. Sir Colin captured Bareilly—rebel leaders escaped.
May 7. Corps of Bengal European Cavalry determined on.
May 9. Lugard defeated Koer Singh at Jugdispore—Koer Singh
killed.
May 9. Rose marched in pursuit of Tanteea Topee and the Ranee.
May 11. Rose defeated them at Koonch.
May 11. Jones relieved Hall at Shahjehanpoor.
May 11. Ellenborough resigned—Lord Stanley appointed to Board of
Control.
May 12. Lugard defeated Ummer Singh near Jugdispore.
May 12. Hope Grant defeated 16,000 Oude rebels at Sirsee.
May 14-21. Great debates in parliament, on Canning’s Proclamation
and Ellenborough’s Dispatch.
May 15. Jones attacked in great force at Shahjehanpoor.
May 15-23. Rose in fierce conflict with Tanteea Topee in and near
Calpee.
May 17. Jung Bahadoor returned to Nepaul.
May 18. Sir Colin repulsed rebels at Shahjehanpoor.
May 21. Light summer clothing ordered for troops.
May 22. Coke joined Sir Colin from Pileebheet.
May 23. Rose captured Calpee—Tanteea Topee, Ranee of Jhansi, and
Nawab of Banda, fled towards Gwalior.
May 24. Incendiarism at Allahabad.
May 24. Sir Colin captured fort of Mohumdee.
May 26. Railway opened from Allahabad to Futtehpoor.
May 28. Sir Colin returned to Futteghur from Rohilcund and Oude.
May 28. Sir Colin thanked his army for past services.
May 30. Rebel leaders from Calpee arrived at Gwalior.
June 1. Scindia defeated by Tanteea Topee and Calpee rebels.
June 2. Rebels captured Gwalior—Scindia fled to Agra.
June 4. Lugard defeated rebels in Jugdispore jungle.
June 7. Lord Stanley resumed India debates in House of Commons.
June 9. Mahomed Hossein defeated at Amorah.
June 9-11. Moncrieff defeated rebels at Chuckerderpore.
June 13. Hope Grant defeated 16,000 rebels at Nawabgunge.
June 15. The Moulvie killed in action at Powayne.
June 16. Rose arrived near Gwalior.
June 16-19. Great Battle in and near Gwalior.
June 17. Death of the Ranee of Jhansi at Gwalior.
June 17. Lord Stanley brought in India Bill No. 3.
June 17. Canning’s reply to Ellenborough’s Secret Dispatch.
June 18. Mahomed Hossein defeated at Hurreah.
June 20. Rose recaptured Gwalior, and reinstated Scindia.
June 21. Napier left Gwalior in pursuit of Tanteea Topee.
June 23. East India Company’s objections to Bill No. 3.
June 24. India Bill read second time in Commons.
June 29. Mr Manson murdered by Rajah of Nargoond.
End of month. 30th and 31st Bombay N. I. formed, to contain faithful
men from mutinous 21st and 27th.
End of month. Faithful men of mutinous 3d, 36th, and 61st Bengal N. I.,
formed into a new regiment in Punjaub.
July 2. Roberts with Rajpootana Field-force reach Jeypoor.
July 8. India Bill passed the Commons.
July 9. India Bill read a first time in Lords.
July 9. Tanteea Topee plundered Tonk—soon afterwards driven out
by Holmes.
July 12. Rajah of Nargoond hanged at Belgaum.
July 13. India Bill read second time in the Lords.
July 14-20. Berkeley captured several small forts in Oude.
July 17. Rattray captured rebel chiefs at Dehree.
July 21. Hope Grant set out from Lucknow to confront rebels.
July 23. Roberts left Tonk in pursuit of Tanteea Topee.
July 28. Hope Grant relieved Maun Singh from siege at Shahgunje.
July 29. Hope Grant entered Fyzabad, and drove out rebels.
July 30. Cavanagh defeated a body of rebels in Muhiabad.
July 31. India Bill passed the Lords.
July 31. Outbreak of prisoners at Mymensing.
Aug. 1. Bundela rebels seized Jaloun—expelled by Macduff.
Aug. 2. India Bill (Act) received royal assent.
Aug. 3. Man Singh captured Paoree.
Aug. 7. Court of Directors elected seven members for new Council
of India.
Aug. 8. Roberts defeated Tanteea Topee at Sunganeer.
Aug. 11. Parkes headed a column from Neemuch, to check Tanteea
Topee.
Aug. 12. Tanteea Topee checked at Marwar frontier, by Erinpoora
force.
Aug. 13. Horsford retook Sultanpore from Oude rebels.
Aug. 13. Carpenter defeated rebels near Kirwee.
Aug. 14. Roberts defeated Tanteea Topee at Kattara.
Aug. 20. Tanteea Topee crossed Chumbul to Julra Patteen.
Aug. 23. Napier drove Man Singh out of Paoree.
Aug. 25-29. Hope Grant fighting with Oude rebels outside Sultanpoor.
Aug. 29. Brahmin plot discovered at Gwalior.
Aug. 31. Disarmed 62d and 69th B. N. I. mutinied at Moultan.
Aug. 31. Man Singh encamped at Sirsee, north of Goonah.
Sep. 1. Ashburner defeated rebels near Mahoni.
Sep. 1. Last day of E. I. Company’s governing power.
Sep. 2. New Council of India commenced its sittings.
Sep. 5. Napier defeated Man Singh at Bujeepore.
Sep. 15. Michel defeated Tanteea Topee at Beora.
Sep. 16-30. Continuous chase after Tanteea Topee, by various British
columns.
Oct. 3-8. Dawson besieged by Oude rebels at Sundeela.
Oct. 5. Eveleigh defeated rebels at Meeangunje.
Oct. 8. Barker and Dawson defeated rebels at Punno.
Oct. 19. Tanteea Topee defeated by Michel at Sindwah.
Oct. 25. Tanteea Topee defeated at Multhone.
Oct. 29. Beni Madhoo defeated at Poorwa.
Oct. 30. Mehndee Hossein defeated at Sufdergunje.
Oct. 31. Tanteea Topee crossed the Nerbudda.
Nov. 1. Queen’s Proclamation issued.
Nov. 1. Sir Colin’s final plans laid.
November. Gradual defeat and surrender of rebels in Oude and Behar.
November. Gradual defeat and surrender of rebels in Central India.
Events in Persia.
1856.
(Summer). Persia sent an army against Herat.
Aug. 22. Orders received at Bombay to prepare fleet and army
against Persia.
Oct. 22. East India Company protested against expense of Persian
Expedition.
Oct. 22. Orders received at Bombay for force to embark.
Oct. 26. Persians captured Herat.
Nov. 1. Governor-general declared war against Persia.
Nov. 20. Outram departed from England to command Persian
Expedition.
Nov. 26. Stalker left Bombay for Persian Gulf.
Dec. 7. Stalker and 1st Division landed near Bushire.
Dec. 10. Stalker and 1st Division captured Bushire.
1857.
Jan. 30. Outram arrived at Bushire, with 2d Column.
Feb. 3. Debates in Parliament concerning Persia.
Feb. 3. Outram marched from Bushire to Borasjoon.
Feb. 9. Night-attack by Persians at Khoosh-aub.
Feb. 12. ? Havelock arrived at Bushire.
Mar. 4. Treaty of Peace between England and Persis signed at
Paris.
Mar. 14. Suicide of Stalker at Bushire.
Mar. 17. Suicide of Ethersey at Bushire.
Mar. 19. Treaty of Peace ratified at London.
Mar. 26. Outram defeated Persians at Mohamrah.
Apr. 1. Rennie defeated Persians at Ahwaz.
Apr. 5. News of the Treaty reached Bushire.
Apr. 14. Treaty ratified at Teheran.
May 9. Outram’s army in Persia broken up.
May 12. ? Outram and Havelock left Persia for India.
(Autumn). Evacuation of Herat by the Persians, and consequent
evacuation of Persia by the British.
Events in China and Japan.
1856.
Oct. 8. Affair of the Lorcha _Arrow_ near Canton.
Oct. 23-25. Seymour captured Forts in Canton river.
Oct. 28-29. Partial Bombardment of Canton.
Nov. 3. Yeh refused a personal conference.
Nov. 6. Naval action with junks in Canton river.
Nov. 8. Chinese employed fire-rafts against British ships.
Nov. 26. British captured other Forts below Canton.
Dec. 10. Bowring’s proceedings approved by home government.
Dec. 11. Dispute at Nagasaki with Japanese authorities.
1857.
Jan. 1-4. Attacks and counter-attacks in Canton river.
Jan. 10. Bowring’s further proceedings approved.
Jan. 26. Japanese edict favourable to English ships.
Feb. 3. Debates in parliament on Chinese affairs.
Feb. 12. Partial destruction of Canton by the British.
Feb. 24. Great debate in House of Lords on China.
Mar. 3. House of Commons condemned Chinese War—Ministers
therefore dissolved parliament.
Apr. 6. War-junks destroyed in Canton river.
Apr. 7. ? Ashburnham left England for China.
Apr. 21. Elgin left England for China.
May 25. Attack on junks in Escape Creek.
June 1. Attack on junks in Fatshan Creek.
July (early). Elgin arrived at Hong-kong.
July (end). Elgin proceeded to confer with Canning at Calcutta.
Sep. 9. Elliot made reconnaissance of Chinese junk-fleet.
Dec. 12. Elgin sent formal demands on Yeh.
Dec. 24. On Yeh’s refusal, Elgin resolved on stern measures.
Dec. 28-31. Cannonading and fighting around Canton.
Dec. 31. British captured all the defences of Canton.
1858.
Jan. 5. Parkes captured Commissioner Yeh.
Jan. 9. Provisional government established at Canton.
Feb. 10. Blockade of Canton river ended.
Mar. (end). Elgin proceeded to Shang-hae.
Apr. 24. Elgin sent his demands to the emperor at Pekin.
Apr. 30. Emperor appointed a plenipotentiary.
May 20. Negotiations failing, Elgin resumed hostilities.
May 20. Forts on the Pei-ho destroyed by English.
June 3. Straubenzee encountered Chinese outside Canton.
June 26. Elgin signed Treaty with China at Tien-sing.
July 6. Elgin returned to Shang-hae.
Aug. 3. Elgin went to Nagasaki in Japan.
Aug. 11. Namtow punished for breach of flag of truce.
Aug. 16. Elgin arrived at Jedo.
Aug. 26. Elgin signed Treaty with Japan at Jedo.
Sep. & Oct. Gradual settlement of details of Chinese tariff.
[Illustration]
INDEX.
Act, abstract of, for changing government of India, 226
Agra, situation and description, 109
——, condition at different dates, 174, 284
——, number of persons in fort, 285
——, mutiny of Kotah Contingent, 283
——, battle near, and partial destruction of city, 283, 284
——, Greathed’s arrival, and victory over rebels, 352
Ahwaz. [Persia.]
AKBAR THE GREAT, 61
ALEXANDER, Mr, Civil Commissioner of Rohilcund, 496
Allahabad, head-quarters of Canning and Sir Colin, 546
——, situation and description, 107, 488
——, mutiny and devastation, 158
Allygurh, position and description, 111
——, mutiny at, 112
Almora, ladies and children at, 286
Alum Bagh, operations at, 262, 334, 363
AMHERST, Earl, power of Mogul lessened by, 67
Amorah, victory over 3000 rebels at, by Rowcroft, 470
ANDREWS, Captain, blown up at Ghazeeoodeen Nuggur, 233
ANGELO, Lieutenant, intrepidity at Mooradabad, 491
ANSON, General, Commander-in-chief in India, 118
——, operations, and death at Kurnaul, 118, 231, 233
Area and population of India, 31
Army, British, in India, details relating to, 24, 49, 118, 211, 220,
390, 426, 483, 495, 609
Arrah, disasters at, 270, 271, 470
——, Wake’s defence of Boyle’s House at, 269
——, operations in and near, 269, 272
_Arrow_, lorcha. [China.]
ASHBURNHAM, General. [China.]
Assam, operations against mutineers, 339
Aurungabad, disaffection at, 291
AURUNGZEBE, Mogul emperor, 62
Azimghur, mutiny and operations at, 154, 478
BABER, Mogul emperor, 61
Badulla Serai, engagement at, 235
BAJEE RAO MAHARAJAH, Peishwa of Mahrattas, 122
BANKS, Major, commissioner of Oude—death, 165, 325
——, house at Lucknow, fortified, 418
BARBER, Lieutenant, cut to pieces near Minpooree, 113
Bareilly, mutiny at, 114, 170
——, mutineers’ march to Delhi, 241
——, recaptured by Campbell and Jones, 492, 494
BARNARD, Sir Henry, takes command of Delhi force, 47, 233
——, engagements before Delhi, 236, 239
——, death, 242
Barrackpore, disturbances and inquiry at, 38, 39
——, 19th B. N. I. disbanded at, 400
Barracks, description of, at Company’s stations, 28
BATSON, Mr, eventful escape from Delhi, 80
BATTYE, Captain, of the Guide Corps, death at Delhi, 238
BEATSON, Captain, death at Cawnpore, 253
Begum Kothee, palace at Lucknow, 418
—— of Oude, character and proceedings, 610
—— Sumroo, convent of, at Sirdhana, 57
Behar. [Arrah; Jugdispore; Lugard; &c.]
Benares, situation and description, 104
——, mutinies and operations at, 105, 154, 156, 279
Bengal Army, proposed reconstruction of, 483
—— Presidency, description, &c., 16, 25
Beora, Tanteea Topee defeated by Michel at, 558
Berhampore, disaffection and disarming at, 40, 266
BERKELEY, Brigadier, operations near Soraon, 545
Berozepoor, fort taken by Goorkhas, 403
Bhotuck. [Rhotuk.]
Bithoor, situation and description, 122
——, battles at and near, 254, 258
——, massacres at. [Cawnpore; Nena Sahib.]
BOILEAU, Captain, won battle of Mundoree, 341
Bombay mutinous regiments erased from Army List, 534
—— presidency, description and army of, 16, 26
—— army strengthened, 559
——, rejoicings at Queen’s Proclamation, 611
Boodayoun, disturbances at, 115
BOURCHIER, Colonel, on causes of mutiny, 606
BOWRING, Sir John. [China.]
BOYLE’S House at Arrah, defence of, 269
British army in India. [Army.]
—— possessions in India, 4, 14
Bundelcund, situation and description, 179
Burmah, policy of king of, 430
BURTON, Major, and sons, killed at Kotah, 354
Busherutgunje, Havelock’s two victories at, 255, 256
Bushire. [Persia.]
Cadets, education of, 26
Calcutta, description and population, 98, 99
——, excitement and demonstrations, 99, 149, 264
——, rejoicings at Queen’s Proclamation, 612
Calpee, town and fort taken by Sir Hugh Rose, 506
Camp before Delhi, description of, 298
CAMPBELL, Sir Colin [Lord Clyde], characteristics of, 222, 496
——, left England for India, 222
——, at Buntara and Cawnpore, 364, 391
——, relieved garrison at Lucknow, 366
——, strength of his army of Oude, 409, 415
——, finally conquered Lucknow, 425
——, interview with Jung Bahadoor, 418
——, interview with Lord Canning, 466
——, general orders by, 423, 433, 547
——, at Futteghur, 473
——, victory near Shahjehanpoor, 497
——, troops thanked by, 498, 514
——, proceedings in Nov. 1858, 611
——, plan for final subjection of Oude, 611
CANNING, Viscount, hostility to, in Calcutta, 212, 213
——, orders and congratulatory letters, 214, 220, 312, 350
——, Oude Proclamation, debates on, 450
——, reply to Ellenborough’s dispatch, 541
——, Proclamation accompanying Queen’s Proclamation, 624
Canton, [China.]
Cartridges, commencement of troubles relating to, 36, 89
CASE, Colonel, death of, at Lucknow, 134
Cashmere Gate, Delhi, blowing up of, 307
Castes and Creeds in Indian army, 162
Cavalry, consequences of deficiency in, 212, 253
CAVANAGH, Mr, adventure at Lucknow, 371
CAVANAGH, Private, gallantry of, at Onao, 256
Causes of Mutiny, opinions on, 605-608
Cawnpore, position and description, 122
——, messages denoting insecurity, 124, 139
——, Wheeler’s preparations, 125, 126
——, sufferings in the intrenchment, 126, 130, 136, &c.
——, Nena Sahib’s deceitful promises, 126, 136, 137
——, boat massacre, and partial escapes, 137-139
——, death of Sir Hugh Wheeler, 139
——, frightful scenes in the house of slaughter, 131, 139, 141-143,
144-145
——, battle and capture by Havelock, 252, 253
——, Neill assumes military command, 254
——, Windham’s defeat by Gwalior rebels, 377
——, decisive victory by Sir Colin Campbell, 378
Central India Field-forces, services of, 507, 516, 553
Chandnee Chowk, Delhi, description of, 435
CHEEK, Ensign, heroism and death, at Allahabad, 159
CHESTER, Colonel, killed at Badulla Serai, 235
China, Retrospect of intercourse with England, 585
——, Lorcha _Arrow_, seized by Chinese authorities, 587
——, Sir John Bowring resolved on forcible measures, 587
——, Sir Michael Seymour captured forts near Canton, 588
——, Commissioner Yeh, correspondence with, 588
——, destruction of junks in Canton river, 589
——, European factories burned at Canton, 589
——, Canton partly burned by English, 590
——, debates in parliament concerning, 591
——, Bowring, Seymour, and Parkes, difficulties of, 592
——, Elgin, Ashburnham, and Straubenzee sent out, 593
——, great destruction of junks at Fatshan, 594
——, operations delayed by mutiny in India, 595
——, bombardment and capture of Canton, 597
——, Yeh sent as prisoner to Calcutta, 598
——, Elgin, Gros, Putiatine, and Reed, proceeded to Shang-hae and
Tien-sing, 598
——, destruction of forts on Pei-ho river, 599
——, Plenipotentiaries sign treaties at Tien-sing, 600
——, untoward conflict at Namtow, 601
——, final pacification, 602
Chunar, sacred Hindoo fort near Benares, 106
Chupatties, mystery of their transmission, 35
Chuttra, English’s defeat of mutineers at, 343
Civil service, India, regulations, 5
Civilians, honours to distinguished, 485
CLARK, Lieut., at Jubbulpoor, frustrates conspirators, 346
CLYDE, Lord. [Campbell, Sir Colin.]
COCKBURN, Lieutenant, gallant services at Hattrass, 112
COKE, Brigadier, services against rebels, 241, 496
COLVIN, Mr, proclamation disapproved by government, 110
——, disarms 44th and 67th B. N. I. at Agra, 111
——, death, services, and character, 348
Compensation to sufferers, arrangements for, 484
Cost of English soldiers in the East, 26
COTTON, Colonel, supersedes Polwhele at Agra, 285
Council of India, names of members, 575
Courts-martial on mutineers, arrangements, 51
Covenanted and uncovenanted service of E. I. Company, 443
Crime, lessening of, under recent Indian reforms, 6
CROWE, Lieut., earns the Victoria Cross by gallantry, 258
CURRIE, Captain, mortally wounded at Cawnpore, 253
DALHOUSIE, Marquis of, career as Governor-general, 2, 87, 218
Darjeeling, proposed colonisation at, 518
Deesa, military operations at, 293, 550
DELAFOSSE, Lieutenant, gallantry at Cawnpore, 135
Delhi, history and description, 63, 67
——, arrival of mutineers from Meerut, 52
——, mutiny of native troops, 73
——, atrocities and sufferings at, 74-79
——, king of Delhi assumes command, 74, 75
——, operations of siege army, 231, 236, 239, 243, 301, 303
——, Cashmere Gate blown in, 307
——, storming and capture, 306-310
——, state of, after the siege, 311, 355, 383, 435
——, king of, mutineers sanctioned by, 74
—— ——, captured by Hodson, 313
—— ——, behaviour and treatment in confinement, 356
—— ——, submitted to trial, 404
DEWAN MOOLRAJ, rebellion of, 3
Dholpore, mutineers plan attack on Agra, 351
Dil Koosha, palace at Lucknow, 369
Dinapoor, mutiny, and its consequences, 268, 274
Distances in India, table of, 12
District-regulations, 15
Doab, important towns in, 107
——, operations in. [Allahabad; Cawnpore; &c.]
DORIN, Mrs, killed at Lucknow Residency, 327
Dorunda, plundered by Ramgurh mutineers, 342
DOUGLAS, Captain, killed at Delhi, 74
D’OYLEY, Captain, killed at Agra, 284
DUFF, Rev. Dr, on causes of mutiny, 606
Dumdum, cartridge troubles commenced at, 38
Dumoh evacuated by Europeans, 347
DUNBAR, Captain, killed at Arrah, 271
Dust and hot winds of India, 465
East India Company. [Army; British India; Covenanted Service, &c.]
East India Company, discussions concerning, 561-573
——, petition to parliament, 613
——, disclaim selfish policy in India, 615
——, object to 1st and 2d India Bills, 618
——, object to 3d India Bill, 621
——, statute ending governing powers, 622
ECKFORD, Lieutenant, narrow escape at Kukerowlee, 492
Educational establishments for natives, 6
EDWARDES, Colonel, Commissioner of Peshawur, 199
——, opinions on Indian government, 607
EDWARDS, Mr, exciting escape from Boodayoun, 115
Electric Telegraphs in India, 9, 416
ELGIN, Earl of. [China.]
ELLENBOROUGH, Earl of, secret dispatch, 541, 564, &c.
ELLIOT, Commodore. [China.]
ELPHINSTONE, Lord, governor of Bombay. [Bombay.]
Enfield rifles, effect on enemy, 250
ENGLISH, Major, defeats rebels at Chuttra, 343
ETHERSEY, Commodore. [Persia.]
Eurasians, or half-castes of India, 98
European troops. [Army, British.]
Europeans in India, and the government, 214
Excise laws in India, 609
EYRE, Major Vincent, defeats rebels at Koondun Puttee, 261
—— —— ——, defeats rebels at Arrah and Narainpore, 272
FAGAN, Captain, killed at Mhow, 186
Fatshan. [China.]
FAYERS, Lieutenant, killed near Minpooree, 113
Ferozpore, disturbances at, 195, &c.
FINCH, Captain, cavalry attack in Saugor territory, 553
FINNIS, Colonel, killed at Meerut, 52
FISHER, Colonel, killed at Sultanpoor, 168
Fort William. [Calcutta.]
FRANKS, Brigadier, operations in Oude, 402, &c.
FRAZER, Mr, killed at Delhi, 74
FRERE, Mr, Commissioner of Sinde, controversy with missionaries, 530
Fund, Indian Mutiny Relief, 226, 623
Furlough, peculiarities in native, 36
Futteghur, mutiny, flight, and murder of Europeans, 134
Futtehpoor, outbreak at, 172
Fyzabad, mutiny, flight of Europeans, 165-167
GABBETT, Lieutenant, killed at Nujuffghur, 300
Ganges, towns and canal of, 8, 104
GARDINER, Sergeant, gallantry at Bareilly, 494
GOLDNEY, Colonel, killed during flight from Fyzabad, 167
Goorkhas, characteristics and services, 378, 348, 393, 529
GORDON, Captain, killed at Delhi, 72
Goruckpore, contests with rebels at, 393, 431
GRAHAM, Dr, killed at Sealkote, 203
GRANT, Mr, temporary Lieutenant-governor of Central Provinces, 214-280
GRANT, Sir Hope, defeats rebels outside Delhi, 238
—— —— —— —— at Serai Ghat, 380
—— —— —— —— at Meeangunje, 404
—— —— —— —— at Towrie, 499
—— —— —— —— at Nawabgunge, 523
—— —— —— —— in Fyzabad district, 543
——, Sir Patrick, temporary Commander-in-chief, 211
GREATHED, Brigadier, services against rebels, 350, 352, &c.
——, Mr H. H., killed at Delhi, 314
GROS, Baron, French plenipotentiary. [China.]
GUBBINGS, Captain, killed at Sultanpore, 168
GUBBINS, Mr, Commissioner of Oude, on causes of mutiny, 605
Guide Corps, march, services, and return from Delhi, 234-437
Gujerat, disarmed by Sir R. Shakespear, 501
Gulowlie, Rose’s victory at, 506
Gwalior, position and description, 187, 510
——, mutiny at, 112, 188
——, capture and recapture of, 509-512
——, conspiracy defeated, 559
HALIBURTON, Captain, disperses rebels near Benares, 279
HALL, Colonel, gallant defence at Shahjehanpore, 495
HARRIS, Lord, on newspaper press of India, 217
——, Major, killed at Mhow, 186
Hattrass, refugees, and fighting at, 112
HAVELOCK, Sir H., commenced operations in the Doab, 247
—— —— ——, victory at Futtehpoor, 249
—— —— ——, —— at Aong, 251
—— —— ——, —— at Pandoo Nuddee, 251
—— —— ——, —— at Cawnpore, 251
—— —— ——, actions on road to Lucknow, 254, &c.
—— —— ——, second defeat of Nena Sahib, 258
—— —— ——, difficulties after retreat to Cawnpore, 259
—— —— ——, death at Lucknow, 369
——, Lieutenant, won Victoria Cross by gallantry, 253
HAYES, Major, killed near Minpooree, 113
Hazarebagh, mutiny at, 274
‘Headman’ of a village, position and duties, 119
Heat of India, influence on Europeans, 66, 519
Herat, cause of the Persian war. [Persia], 578
HEWETT, Major-general, conduct at Meerut, 53
Hindoos, characteristics of, 105, 438, &c.
HODSON, Major, defeat rebels near Rohtuk, 299
—— ——, capture King of Delhi, 313
—— ——, killed at Lucknow, 426
——, Mrs, account of visit to King of Delhi, 356
HOLKAR, one of the Mahratta princes, 182
HOLMES, Major, killed at Segowlie, 274
HOME, Lieutenant, services and death, 315, 351
Hong-kong. [China.]
Honours conferred on faithful natives, 546, 548
Hoogly river, described, 98
HOPE, Brigadier Adrian, services at Bithoor and Shumshabad, 391, 394
HOPE, Brigadier Adrian, killed at Rhodamow, 473
Hospitals, periodicals supplied to by government, 538
India Bills, discussions on, in parliament, 561-573
Indian Native army, on reorganisation of, 386
Indore, mutiny and murder of Europeans, 185, 186
Industrial development of India, 7
INGLIS, Sir J., heroic defence of Lucknow, 165, 259, 324, 327, 336
JACOB, Brigadier, of the Sinde horse, 206, 207, &c.
Jacobabad, station for Jacob’s Sinde horse, 207
JAMSETJEE JEJEEBHOY, Sir, Parsee baronet, 501, 612
Japan, Elgin’s expedition to Nagasaki, 603
——, thence to Jedo, 603
——, treaty of commerce signed by Elgin, 603
Jedo. [Japan.]
JEHANGHIRE, Mogul emperor, 61
Jelpigoree, conflict of mutineers, 375
Jelum, Sepoy mutinies at, 202
JENNINGS, Rev. Mr, killed at Delhi, 74
Jhansi, mutinies and fighting at, 179, 440, 478, 479
——, Ranee of, 180, 478
Jheend, Rajah of, rewarded for fidelity, 549
JONES, Brigadier, operations at Nageena and Shahjehanpore, 472, 496
Jowra Alipore, Gwalior rebels defeated by Napier at, 515
Jubbulpoor, precautions against mutiny, 178, 281, 346
Jugdispore taken by Lugard, 487
Jullundur, precautions against mutiny, 196
Julra Patteen, occupied by Tanteea Topee, 557
Jumma Musjid at Delhi, description, 65
Jumna, immolation of devotees in, 107
JUNG BAHADOOR, character and proceedings, 169, 423, 519
Junks, destruction of. [China.]
Kaiser Bagh, palace and garden at Lucknow, 421
KANTZOW, Lieutenant de, gallantry at Minpooree, 113
Kattara, Tanteea Topee defeated by Roberts at, 557
KERR, Lord Mark, contest with rebels at Azimghur, 469
KHAN BAHADOOR KHAN, rebel leader at Bareilly, 170
Khoosh-aub, victory at. [Persia.]
KIRK, Dr, killed at Gwalior, 189
Kirwee, treasure captured at by Whitlock, 552
KOER SINGH, leader of Dinapoor rebels, 269, 344, 469, 487
Kolapore, mutiny and murders at, 289
Kotah, recaptured from rebels by Roberts, 442
Kukerowlee, victory of Jones at, 492
Kumaon battalion, fidelity and bravery of, 529
Lahore, mutiny of native troops at, 204
——, position and description of, 193
LAKE, Lord, reminiscences of, 67
LAWRENCE, Colonel, in Rajpootana, 354
——, Sir H., difficulties of position at Lucknow, 89-95
—— ——, disastrous battle of Chinhut, 164
—— ——, Muchee Bhowan fort blown up by, 164
—— ——, death and character, 165, 322
——, Sir J., energetic measures in Punjaub, 199-204
—— ——, siege-army for Delhi formed by, 240
—— ——, invaluable services to India, 384
—— ——, pension granted to, 574
—— ——, opinions on government of India, 607
LESLIE, Sir Norman, killed at Rohnee, 151
LLOYD, Major-general, disasters at Dinapoor, 267, 268
Lorcha _Arrow_, cause of Chinese war. [China.]
Lotus flower, transmission among natives, 36
LOWTHER, Captain, Rajah of Assam captured by, 339
Lucknow, situation and description, 84
——, first symptoms of mutiny, 89, 96
——, invested by rebels, 164
——, details of siege by rebels, 317-333
——, effects of heat, flies, and impurities, 325, 326
——, sufferings of ladies and children, 325, 330, 335
——, scarcity, and high prices of provisions, 330, 332
——, brilliant achievements of defenders, 328, 331, &c.
——, great losses among garrison, 259, 263, 335, 366
——, relieved by Havelock and Outram, 263, 335
——, second relief, by Sir Colin Campbell, 368
——, spoliation of palaces, 360
——, evacuation by the British, 368
——, state of, after the evacuation, 413
——, reconquered by Sir Colin Campbell, 425
——, condition of in May 1858, 522
LUDLOW, Mr, on causes of mutiny, 605
LUGARD, Sir E., Koer Singh defeated by, at Azimghur, 469
——, ——, various victories over rebels, 487
LUMSDEN, Lieutenant, killed at Nujuffghur, 300
LYELL, Dr, killed at Patna, 153
M’CAUSLAND, Colonel, Bareilly rebels defeated by, 406
MADHOO SINGH, surrender to Sir Colin Campbell, 610
Madras presidency and city, 15
——, number of troops, 26
——, 8th native cavalry disarmed, 288
——, troops in Central Provinces, 280
——, general fidelity of native troops, 288
——, missionary dispute, 535
Magazine at Delhi, blown up by Willoughby, 71
—— at Lucknow, blown up by Lawrence, 164
MAHOMED HUSSEIN, rebel leader in Oude, 166, 487
Mahrattas, nation, territory, and characteristics, 62, 181
Mail post, Indian runners, dâks, and eckas, 22
Malagurh Fort, blown up—Lieutenant Home killed, 351
MAN SINGH, rebel chief in Gwalior territory. [Gwalior]
MANSON, Mr, assassinated near Nargoond, 532
March of Indian armies described, 29
Martial law proclaimed, 213
MARTIN, Lieutenant, shot at Mhow, 180
Martinière, college in Lucknow. [Lucknow.]
Massacres. [Cawnpore; Delhi; Jhansi; Meerut; &c.]
MAUN SINGH, of Shahgunje, 465, &c.
MAXWELL, Colonel, rebels defeated by, at Chowra, 403
MEAD, Mr, on causes of mutiny, 606
Meean Meer, cantonment for Lahore, 194, 287
Meerut, position and description of, 49
——, mutiny and massacre at, 50-53
—— mutineers march to Delhi, 52
——, Wilson’s brigade march from, 232
METCALFE’S House, outside Delhi, struggles at, 297
Mhow, mutiny at, 186
MICHEL, Major-gen., victories over Tanteea Topee, 558, 611
Military stations and divisions in India, 208, 209, 293
MILL, Major, killed near Fyzabad, 167
——, Mrs, and children, eventful escape of, 167
MILLER, Colonel, rebels defeated by, at Konee, 347
MILLMAN, engagement with rebels at Atrowlia, 431
Minpooree, re-occupation of, 353
Mirzapore, description and defences, 106, 279
Missionaries, controversy with, at Hyderabad, 530
Missionary dispute at Madras, 535
Mohamrah, victory at. [Persia.]
MONTGOMERY, Mr, Chief-commissioner of Oude, 465
——, proclamation for disarming Oude, 610
——, Major, defeat of rebels at Allygurh, 286
Mooradabad, mutiny at, 171
——, rebel chieftains captured, 491
Moosa Bagh, palace at Lucknow, 424
Moultan, disarming and mutiny at, 551
Moulvie of Fyzabad, stronghold captured, 425
—— ——, characteristics, 498
—— ——, killed at Powayne, 524
Muchee Bhowan, fort, at Lucknow, 322
Multhone, Tanteea Topee defeated by Michel at, 611
Mundoree, action at, 341
MUNRO, Sir T., opinions on press of India, 215
Murdan, mutineers captured at, 198
MURRAY, Honourable A. C. [Persia.]
Mutiny, discussions on causes of, 389, 605
—— Relief Fund, 623
NABAH, Rajah of, rewarded for fidelity, 549
NADIR SHAH, early conqueror of India, 62
Nagasaki. [Japan.]
Nagode, mutiny and disaster at, 282
Nagpoor, position and defences, 176
Namtow, operations at. [China.]
NAPIER, Brigadier R., operations against Gwalior rebels, 515, 555, &c.
Nargoond, Rajah, treachery of, 532
Narratives of Delhi fugitives, 75-77
Naval Brigade, arrived at Benares, 340
—— ——, services at Lucknow, 366
——, —— at Chuckerderpore, 518
——, —— at Hurreah, 525
—— value of services, 539
—— [Peel; Sotheby.]
Native regiments. [Army.]
Nawabgunge, Grant’s victory at, 523
NEAVE, Lieutenant, killed at Gwalior, 511
Neemuch, mutiny and contests, 184, 386
NEILL, Brigadier, services at Benares and Allahabad, 155, 157, 160
——, in command at Cawnpore, 144, 254
——, repulsed enemy at Cawnpore, 255, 258
——, killed at Lucknow, 632
NENA SAHIB, history and character, 122
——, treacherous promises, 126, 127, 130
——, joined the rebels as leader, 129
——, massacred fugitives from Futteghur, 133
——, dreadful massacre at Cawnpore, 142
——, issued vaunting proclamations, 146
——, defeated by Havelock at Bithoor, 253
——, second defeat by Havelock at Bithoor, 258
——, chosen as Peishwa by Gwalior rebels, 508
——. [Cawnpore; Havelock; Wheeler.]
Nepaul. [See also Goorkhas; Jung Bahadoor], 169
NEWBERRY, Cornet—killed at Nuseerabad, 183
Newspaper correspondents, 400
——. [Press.]
Newspapers of India, native, 46, 217
——, English, 205
NICHOLSON, Brig., character and services, 298, 314
——, operations against Sealkote mutineers, 204
——, disarmed native troops at Umritsir, 287
——, defeat of enemy at Nujuffghur, 299
——, killed at Delhi, 307
Nizam of the Deccan, fidelity to the English, 560
Non-regulation, provinces and districts, 15
Nowgong, mutiny and eventful escapes, 180, 181
Nowsherah, station destroyed by river-torrent, 551
Nujuffghur, Nicholson’s victory at, 299
Nuseerabad, mutiny at, 183
Nynee Tal, refuge at hill-station, 114, 115, &c.
Onao, battle won by Havelock, 255
Opium Trade. [See also China], 609
ORR, Mrs and Miss Jackson, sufferings at Lucknow, 423
Orthography of Oriental names and terms, 13
OSBORNE, Captain, skilful management at Rewah, 180
Oude, history and description, 83
——, royal family, relations of E. I. C. with, 84-88
——, queen, goes to England, 88
—— ——, petition from, 161
—— ——, discords in royal family, 520
——, army, mutiny, military events, 89, 399, 426, 543, 610, &c.
——, gradual pacification, 610
——. [Campbell; Havelock; Lawrence; Lucknow; &c.]
OUTRAM, Sir James. [Persia.]
——, plan for reconquering Oude, 250
——, nobly yielded command to Havelock, 262
OUTRAM, Sir James, wounded in entering Lucknow, 263
——, appointed to hold Alum Bagh, 370
——, defeated 30,000 rebels at, 391
——, defeated 20,000 rebels at, 401
——, operations in taking Lucknow, 415, 422
——, military councillor at Calcutta, 467
——, volunteer cavalry thanked by, 526
PALMERSTON, Lord, India Bill, 564
——. [India bills; Parliament.]
Paoree, Man Singh defeated by Napier at, 555
PARKES, Mr. [China.]
Parliament, discussions on the mutiny, &c., 218, 221, 448
—— discussions, on India bills, &c., 564
Parsee address to Lord Elphinstone, 289
—— rejoicings at Bombay, 611
Patna, disturbances and precautions, 152, 153, 267
PEEL, Captain Sir W., services with naval brigade at Kudjna, 364
PEEL, Captain Sir W., services with naval brigade at Lucknow, 366
PEEL, Captain Sir W., wounded at Lucknow, 417
—— —— —— ——, died at Cawnpore, 475
PEH-KWEI, governor at Canton. [China.]
Pei-ho, operations in river. [China]
PENNY, Colonel, killed at Nuseerabad, 183
——, General, operations against rebels, 355, 491
—— ——, killed at Kukerowlee, 491
Pershadeepore, mutiny at, 168
Persia, disputes concerning Herat, &c., 578
——, war declared against, 579
——, expeditions to, 580
——, capture of Bushire, 580
——, action at Khoosh-aub, 581
——, suicide of Stalker and Ethersey, 582
——, operations at Mohamrah and Ahwaz, 582
——, Treaty of Peace, 583
Peshawur, mutinies and precautions, 197-199, 204
Phillour, precautions against mutiny, 197
PLATT, Colonel, killed at Mhow, 186
PLOWDEN, Mr, his position at Nagpoor, 177
——, Captain, services with Goorkhas, 432
Plunder, Sir Colin Campbell’s order concerning, 423
POLEHAMPTON, Rev. Mr, killed at Lucknow, 329
Police system of India, 200, 480
Poonah, precautions against rebellion, 290
POWELL, Colonel, killed at Kudjna, 364
Presidencies, area and population, 31
Press of India, 46, 205, 215, 218, 400
——, liberty restricted, 215
——. [Newspapers.]
Proclamations, Viscount Canning’s, 450, 624
——, Sir Colin Campbell’s, 610
——, Mr Montgomery’s, 610
——, Queen Victoria’s, 611, 623
——. [Campbell; Canning; Ellenborough; &c.]
Prophecies and mysteries, native, 485, 531
Punjaub, history and description, 191, 192
——, precautions against mutiny, 200, 201
——. [Lahore; Lawrence; Moultan; Nicholson; Peshawur; Sealkote; Sikhs;
&c.]
Putialah, Rajah of, rewarded for fidelity, 549
PUTIATINE, Admiral Count. [China; Japan.]
Queen of Oude. [Begum; Oude.]
Queen Victoria’s proclamation, 609-612, 623
RAIKES, Mr, on causes of mutiny, 606
Railways of India, lengths, &c., 119, 157, 224, 477
RAINES, Major, rebels defeated at Rowah, 395
Rajahs, honours for fidelity of, 549
Rajpootana, situation and description, 189
——. [Napier; Nuseerabad; Roberts; Tanteea Topee; &c.]
RAMSAY, Capt. (Major), operations near Nynee Tal, 115, 357
Ranee of Jhansi, killed at Gwalior, 511
——. [Calpee; Gwalior; Jhansi; Tanteea Topee.]
RATTRAY, Captain, services of Sikh battalion, 275, &c.
Rebels, discussions on punishment of, 455
REED, Mr, American plenipotentiary. [China.]
——, Major-gen., brief services against rebels, 235, 242
——, resigned command at Delhi, 243
REES, Mr, on causes of the mutiny, 605
Regiments. [Army; Stations; &c.]
Regulation districts, 15
REID, Major, gallant achievements outside Delhi— 241, 297, &c.
Relief Fund, Indian Mutiny, 623
Religions of India, discussions concerning, 607
——, orders for respecting, 41
RENAUD, Major, killed at Cawnpore, 254
RENNIE, Capt., defeat of Persians at Ahwaz by. [Persia.]
Residency at Lucknow. [Inglis; Lawrence; Lucknow; &c.]
Revolt. [Barrackpore; Cartridge; Meerut; &c.]
Rewah, gallantly held by Osborne, 180, 345, &c.
Rhodamow Fort, disaster at, 473
ROBERTS, General, operations against Tanteea Topee, 555, 557, &c.
Rohilcund, position and description, 170
——, operations in, 114, 467, 495, 496, 610
——, rebel leaders in, 467
ROSE, Lieutenant, killed at Gwalior, 513
——, Sir Hugh, operations at Mudenpore, 438
—— —— —— at Jhansi, 478
—— —— —— at Koonch, 505
—— —— —— at Gwalior, 510, 516
—— —— ——, address to his army, 516
ROWCROFT, Brigadier, operations against rebels, 470, 610
RUSSELL, Mr W. H., graphic descriptions by, 400, 414, &c.
SALAR JUNG, prime-minister to Nizam, 560
SALKELD, Lieutenant, heroism at Delhi, 315
Satara, Mahratta proceedings at, 290, 480
Saugor, fight between native troops at, 281
—— and Nerbudda territories, 178, 345, 553
SCINDIA, history and family, 182
——, offered aid to British, 110
——, difficulties with mutineers, 351, 507
——, expulsion from Gwalior, 508
——, reinstatement at Gwalior, 514
Sealkote, mutiny at, 202, 203
—— mutineers. [Nicholson.]
SEATON, Brigadier, services against rebels, 382, 475, &c.
Secrole, noticed, 105
Secunder Bagh, palace and garden at Lucknow, 365
Secunderabad, Rohillas defeated at, 291
Seetapoor, mutiny at, 168
——, operations commence from, 610
Seetabuldee, fort of Nagpoor, 177
Sepoys. [Army; Regiments; Troops.]
SEYMOUR, Admiral Sir Michael [China.]
SHAHJEHAN, Mogul emperor, 62
Shahjehanpore, mutiny and massacre at, 171
——, military operations, 495, 496, &c.
Shah Nujeef at Lucknow, 365
——, Peel’s services at, 366
Shang-hae. [China.]
SHOWERS, Brigadier, operations against Delhi, 297
Sikhs, origin and description, 192
——, fidelity during mutiny, 156, 275, 344
SIMPSON, Sergeant, gallantry at Rhodamow, 473
Sinde, details concerning, 205-207
Sirmoor battalion of Goorkhas, fidelity of, 529
SMITH, Brigadier, operations at Gwalior, &c., 511, &c.
Soldiers, English in India. [Army; &c.]
Sonthal Pergunnahs, mutiny at, 151
SOORUT SINGH of Benares, services to the English, 156
Soraon Field-force, services, 545
SOTHEBY’S Naval Brigade, services of, 402
SPENCER, Major, killed at Meean Meer, 287
SPOTTISWOODE, Captain, killed at Nuseerabad, 183
SPRING, Captain, killed at Jelum, 202
STALKER, Major-general. [Persia.]
STANLEY, Lord, India Bill and Council of India, 570
STEUART, Brigadier, operations in Deccan, 385
STEVENS, Captain, killed at Chinhut, 164
STRAUBENZEE, General. [China.]
STUART, Brigadier, at Mundisore and Chendaree, 385, 439
Sultanpore, actions by Franks and Hope Grant, 402, 610
Sunstroke, fatal effects of, 496, &c.
TANTEEA TOPEE, manœuvres and marches of, 478, 508, 555, 558, 611
——. [Michel; Napier; Roberts; &c.]
TAYLER, Mr, proceedings at Patna, 470, 476
——, removed from office, 476
Telegrams. [Electric telegraph.]
TIEN-SING. [China.]
Tola Narainpore, rebels defeated by Eyre at, 272
Thalookdars and Thalookdaree, 360, 525
Thugs and Thuggee, 11
Travelling in India, 18, 20
——. [Marching; Railways; &c.]
Troops, number, clothing, &c., 25, 26, 29, 224, 250, 302, 535, 609
——, disarming, 149, 150, 194, 198, &c.
——, marching and transport of, 29, 222, 501, 611
——. [Army; &c.]
TUCKER, Mr, killed at Futtehpoor, 172
Twigs, mystery of, in Gujerat, 531
Umballa, occurrences at, 118, 231
——, effects of cholera at, 201
Umritsir, position and description, 195
Vellore, revolt in, a premonitory symptom, 33
VENABLES, Mr, success against rebels, 278, 341
—— ——, death, and honourable testimonial, 519
Victoria Cross, bestowal for valour, 315, 464, 550
Vocabulary of Indian terms, 13
Volunteer cavalry of Oude, 526
WAKE, Mr, heroic defence of house at Arrah, 268
WALLEE DAD KHAN, rebel leader near Meerut, 174
WALPOLE, General, disaster at Rhodamow, 473
——, victory at Sirsa, 473
WATERFIELD, Major, killed near Ferozabad, 500
WHELER, Colonel, and the religion of the sepoys, 101
WHEELER, Sir Hugh, defensive operations, sufferings, and death.
[Cawnpore; Nena Sahib.]
——, Miss, heroic conduct of, 139
WILLOUGHBY, Lieutenant, Delhi magazine exploded by, 71
WHITLOCK, General, operations in Bundelcund, 479
——, capture of treasure at Kirwee, 552
WINDHAM, General, disaster at Cawnpore, 376
WILSON, Sir Archdale, Meerut column headed by, 232
—— —— ——, victories of Ghazeeoodeen and Hindoun, 232
WILSON, Sir Archdale, at siege of Delhi, 243, 245, 298, 306, 311
——, honoured and rewarded, 314
——, commanded cavalry in Oude, 409
WINGFIELD, Mr, commissioner at Goruckpore, 487
YEH MINGCHIN, Chinese viceroy. [China.]
YULE, Colonel, killed outside Delhi, 238
[Illustration: THE END.]
Edinburgh:
Printed by W. and R. Chambers.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
1. Corrected for to four on p. 96.
2. Corrected withinside to within on p. 314.
3. Silently corrected typographical errors.
4. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.
5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
6. Superscripts are denoted by a carat before a single superscript
character or a series of superscripted characters enclosed in
curly braces, e.g. M^r. or M^{ister}.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The History of the Indian Revolt and of the Expeditions to Persia, China and Japan 1856-7-8" ***
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