1857
Advantage of being a good horseman--News from Lucknow
--Cawnpore--Heart-rending scenes--Start for Lucknow
--An exciting Adventure--Arrival of Sir Colin Campbell
--Plans for the advance
On the 14th October we moved camp to the left bank of the Jumna, where
we were joined by a small party of Artillerymen with two 18-pounder
guns, and some convalescents belonging to the regiments with us, who
had been left behind at Delhi--300 in all. Our camp was pitched in a
pretty garden called the Rambagh, only a short distance from Agra,
where we gave a picnic to the ladies who had been so kind to our
wounded men--a rough sort of entertainment, as may be imagined, but
much enjoyed by the easily-pleased people who had been prisoners for
so long, to whom the mere getting away from the fort for a few hours
was a relief.
On the morning of the 15th we commenced our march towards Mainpuri, a
small station seventy miles from Agra, which we reached on the 18th.
While on our way there, Hope Grant, Colonel of the 9th Lancers,
arrived in camp to take over the command of the column. He had
remained at Delhi when superseded by Greathed, and being naturally
indignant at the treatment he had received, he protested against it,
and succeeded in getting the order appointing Greathed to the command
cancelled.
Had an officer been specially selected on account of his possessing
a more intimate acquaintance with Native soldiers and a longer
experience of India, Hope Grant would no doubt have accepted the
inevitable. But Greathed did not know as much of the country and
Native troops as Hope Grant did; he had seen no service before he
came to Delhi, and while there had no opportunity of showing that he
possessed any particular qualification for command; he certainly did
not exhibit any while in charge of the column, and everyone in the
force was pleased to welcome Hope Grant as its leader.
The Raja of Mainpuri, who had openly joined the rebels, fled the day
before we marched in, leaving behind him several guns and a quantity
of powder. We halted on the 20th, blew up his fort and destroyed the
powder. The European part of the station was in ruins, but a relation
of the Raja had been able to prevent the Government treasury from
being plundered, and he made over to us two and a half lakhs of
rupees.
The civilians of the Mainpuri district were amongst the refugees at
Agra, and took advantage of our escort to return to their station.
We had also been joined by some officers whom the mutiny of their
regiments had left without employment; they were a welcome addition
to our Punjab regiments, as the limited number of British officers
attached to these corps had been considerably reduced by the
constantly recurring casualties. One of these officers was a Captain
Carey, whose story, as he told it to me, of his escape from the
massacre at Cawnpore and his subsequent experiences is, I think, worth
repeating.
In the month of May Carey went into Wheeler's entrenchment with the
rest of the garrison; a few days before the investment, however, Sir
Henry Lawrence sent his Military Secretary, Captain Fletcher Hayes, to
Cawnpore, to report on what course events were taking at that place,
and, if possible, to communicate with Delhi. His escort was the 2nd
Oudh Irregular Cavalry. Hayes had already made Carey's acquaintance,
and, on finding him at Cawnpore, asked him to accompany him to Delhi,
which invitation Carey gladly accepted. When they got close to Bewar,
where the road to Mainpuri branched off, Hayes, wishing to gain
information from the civil authorities as to the state of the country
through which their route to Delhi lay, rode off to the latter place
with Carey, having first ordered the escort to proceed towards Delhi,
and having arranged with the British officers to catch them up at the
end of the next day's march. The following day, as the two friends
approached the encamping ground where they were to overtake the
escort, they beheld the regiment marching steadily along the road
in regular formation; there was nothing to warn them that it had
revolted, for as there were only three British officers with the
corps, whose dress was almost the same as the men's, their absence was
not noticed.
Suddenly, when they had got within two or three hundred yards of the
regiment, the troopers with one accord broke into shouts and yells,
and, brandishing their swords, galloped towards Hayes and Carey,
who, turning their horses, made with all possible speed back towards
Mainpuri. Hayes, who was an indifferent rider, was soon overtaken and
cut to pieces, while Carey, one of the best horsemen in the army,
and beautifully mounted, escaped; the _sowars_ followed him for some
distance, but a wide irrigation cut, which he alone was able to clear,
put an end to the pursuit. Carey reached his destination in safety,
and, with the other Europeans from Mainpuri, sought refuge in the Agra
fort, where he spent the following five months. It was afterwards
ascertained that the three British officers with the escort had been
murdered by the _sowars_ shortly before Hayes and Carey came in sight.
On the 21st October we reached Bewar, the junction of the roads from
Meerut, Agra, Fatehgarh, and Cawnpore, at which point the Brigadier
received a communication from Sir James Outram, written in Greek
character, from the Lucknow Residency, begging that aid might be sent
as soon as possible, as provisions were running short.[1] The note was
rolled up inside a quill, which the Native messenger had cunningly
concealed in the heart of his thick walking-stick. Outram's urgent
summons determined the Brigadier to push on. So the next day we made
a march of twenty-eight miles to Goorsahaigunj, and on the 23rd we
reached Miran-ki-Serai, close to the ruined Hindu city of Kanoj.
The same day I went on as usual with a small escort to reconnoitre,
and had passed through the town, when I was fired upon by a party of
the rebels, consisting of some 300 Cavalry, 500 Infantry, and four
guns, who, having heard of the approach of the column, were trying to
get away before it arrived. Their Cavalry and Infantry were on the
opposite bank of a fairly wide stream, called the Kali Naddi, through
which were being dragged some heavy pieces of cannon. I retired
a short distance, and sent back word to the advance guard, which
hastened to my assistance. A few rounds from our Artillery caused the
enemy to abandon their guns, the Infantry dispersed and disappeared,
the Cavalry fled, and we, crossing the stream, had a smart gallop
after them for about four miles over a fine grassy plain. On we flew,
Probyn's and Watson's squadrons leading the way in parallel lines,
about a mile apart. I was with the latter, and we had a running fight
till we reached the Ganges, into which plunged those of the _sowars_
whom we had not been able to overtake; we reined up, and saw the
unlucky fugitives struggling in the water, men and horses rolling over
each other; they were gradually carried down by the swiftly running
stream, and but a very few reached the opposite bank.
Our casualties were trifling, only some half-dozen men wounded, while
my horse got a gash on his quarter from a sabre. Watson had the
forefinger of his right hand badly cut in an encounter with a young
_sowar_; I chaffed him at allowing himself to be nearly cut down by a
mere boy, upon which he laughingly retorted: 'Well, boy or not, he was
bigger than you.'
It was on this occasion that I first recognized the advantage of
having the carbine slung on the trooper's back while in action,
instead of being carried in the bucket, as is the custom with our
British Cavalry. Several of the enemy's loose horses were going about
with carbines on their saddles, while their dismounted riders were at
an enormous disadvantage in trying to defend themselves from their
mounted adversaries with only their swords. I saw, too, one of
Watson's men saved from a fierce cut across the spine by having his
carbine on his back. More recent experience has quite satisfied me
that this is the only way this weapon should be carried when actual
fighting is going on.
Three more marches brought us to Cawnpore, where we arrived on the
26th October.
We now for the first time heard the miserable 'story of Cawnpore.' We
were told how, owing to Sir Hugh Wheeler's misplaced belief in the
loyalty of the sepoys, with whom he had served for upwards of half a
century, and to the confiding old soldier's trust in the friendship of
the miscreant Nana, and in the latter's ability to defend him until
succour should arrive, he had neglected to take precautionary measures
for laying in supplies or for fortifying the two exposed barracks
which, for some unaccountable reason, had been chosen as a place of
refuge, instead of the easily defensible and well-stored magazine. Our
visit to this scene of suffering and disaster was more harrowing than
it is in the power of words to express; the sights which met our eyes,
and the reflections they gave rise to, were quite maddening, and could
not but increase tenfold the feelings of animosity and desire for
vengeance which the disloyalty and barbarity of the mutineers in other
places had aroused in the hearts of our British soldiers. Tresses of
hair, pieces of ladies' dresses, books crumpled and torn, bits of work
and scraps of music, just as they had been left by the wretched owners
on the fatal morning of the 27th June, when they started for that
terrible walk to the boats provided by the Nana as the bait to induce
them to capitulate.[2] One could not but picture to one's self the
awful suffering those thousand Christian souls of both sexes and
of all ages must have endured during twenty-one days of misery and
anxiety, their numbers hourly diminished by disease, privation, the
terrific rays of a June sun, and the storm of shot, shell, and bullets
which never ceased to be poured into them. When one looked on the
ruined, roofless barracks, with their hastily constructed parapet and
ditch (a mere apology for a defence), one marvelled how 465 men, not
more than half of them soldiers by profession, could have held out
for three long weeks against the thousands of disciplined troops and
hordes of armed retainers whom the Nana was able to bring to the
attack.
It is impossible to describe the feelings with which we looked on the
Sati-Choura Ghat, where was perpetrated the basest of all the Nana's
base acts of perfidy;[3] or the intense sadness and indignation which
overpowered us as we followed the road along which 121 women and
children (many of them well born and delicately nurtured) wended
their weary way, amidst jeers and insults, to meet the terrible fate
awaiting them. After their husbands and protectors had been slain, the
wretched company of widows and orphans were first taken to the Savada
house, and then to the little Native hut, where they were doomed to
live through two more weeks of intensest misery, until at length the
end came, and the last scene in that long drama of foulest treachery
and unequalled brutality was enacted. Our unfortunate countrywomen,
with their little children, as my readers will remember, were murdered
as the sound of Havelock's avenging guns was heard.
We found at Cawnpore some men who had fought their way from Allahabad
with Havelock's force, from whom we heard of the difficulties they had
encountered on their way, and the subsequent hardships the gallant
little force had to endure in its attempts to reach Lucknow. They also
told us that Havelock and Outram, with only 3,179 men of all arms, and
14 guns, had succeeded in forcing their way through that great city
with a loss of 700, but only to be themselves immediately surrounded
by the vast multitude of the enemy, who for three whole months had
vainly endeavoured to overpower the heroic defenders of the Residency.
At Cawnpore there were very few troops. The Head-Quarters of the 64th
Foot, under Colonel Wilson, and some recovered invalids belonging
to regiments which had gone to Lucknow, had held it for more than a
month, within an entrenchment thrown up on the river bank to protect
the bridge of boats. Just before we arrived four companies of the
93rd Highlanders had marched in. It was the first time I had seen a
Highland regiment, and I was duly impressed by their fine physique,
and not a little also by their fine dress. They certainly looked
splendid in their bonnets and kilts--a striking contrast to my
war-worn, travel-stained comrades of the Movable Column. An _avant
courier_ of the Naval Brigade had also come in, sent on by Captain
William Peel, of H.M.S. _Shannon_, to arrange for the rest of the
blue-jackets who were about to arrive--the first naval officer, I
imagine, who had ever been sent on duty so far up the country as
Cawnpore.
Other troops were rapidly being pushed up, and officers who had been
on leave to England were daily arriving, having hurried out to join
their different regiments in various parts of India. Amongst these was
an old friend and brother subaltern of mine, Augustus Otway Mayne,
whom, greatly to my satisfaction, Hope Grant appointed D.A.Q.M.G. to
help me, for there was now more work to be done than I could well get
through.
The day after our arrival at Cawnpore we heard that the new
Commander-in-Chief, Sir Colin Campbell, was to leave Calcutta that
evening to take command of the force with which he hoped to effect the
relief of the Lucknow garrison, and with this news came an order to
Hope Grant from Sir Colin to get into communication with the Alambagh,
a small garden-house not quite two miles from the city of Lucknow,
built by one of the Begums of the ex-King of Oudh, in which the sick
and wounded, tents and spare stores, had been left in charge of a
small detachment, when Outram and Havelock advanced towards the
Residency on the 25th September.
On the 30th October we left Cawnpore, and crossed the Ganges into
Oudh, taking with us the four companies of the 93rd Highlanders, and
the men belonging to Havelock's force, whom I have mentioned as having
been left behind on account of sickness.
On the 31st we were at Bani bridge, more than half-way to the
Alambagh, when a telegram reached the Brigadier directing him to halt
until Sir Colin Campbell (who had got as far as Cawnpore) should
arrive.
Hope Grant did not think the ground we were on well adapted for a
prolonged halt; that afternoon, therefore, I went off with Mayne to
reconnoitre the country for a more suitable place. We fixed upon
an open plain at the village of Bhantira, about three miles nearer
Lucknow. We met with no opposition that day, but the country people
in the neighbourhood had shown marked hostility by killing one or two
soldiers and every camp-follower who had strayed from the main road;
so we were careful to examine Bhantira and all the neighbouring
villages, but were unable to discover the slightest sign of an enemy.
As the next day's march was such a very short one, we did not start
until 7 a.m., instead of before daybreak as usual. Mayne and I rode on
ahead with a couple of _sowars_, and reached the site we had chosen
for the camp without meeting a single suspicious-looking individual.
We then sent back the escort to bring up the camp colour-men, and
while waiting for them, we entered into conversation with some passing
pilgrims, who told us they were on their way to Benares to procure
holy water from the Ganges. Suddenly a bullet whizzed over our heads,
fired from the direction from which we had just come. Looking back,
to our amazement we saw a crowd of armed men at a distance of between
three and four hundred yards, completely cutting us off from the
column. The whole plain was alive with them. When they saw they were
observed, they advanced towards us, shouting and firing. Fortunately
for us, we had made ourselves perfectly acquainted with the country
the previous day, and instantly realized that escape by our right (as
we faced Lucknow) was impossible, because of a huge impassable _jhil_.
There was another _jhil_ to our left front, but at some little
distance off, and our only chance seemed to be in riding hard enough
to get round the enemy's flank before they could get close enough to
this _jhil_ to stop us.
Accordingly, we put spurs to our horses and galloped as fast as they
could carry us to our left; the enemy turned in the same direction,
and made for a village we must pass, and which we could see was
already occupied. The firing got hotter and more uncomfortable as
we neared this village, the walls of which we skirted at our best
possible pace. We cleared the village, and hoped we had distanced the
rebels, when suddenly we came upon a deep _nulla_. Mayne got safely to
the other side, but my horse stumbled and rolled over with me into the
water at the bottom. In the fall my hand was slightly cut by my sword,
which I had drawn, thinking we might have to fight for our lives; the
blood flowed freely, and made the reins so slippery when I tried to
remount, that it was with considerable difficulty I got into the
saddle. The enemy were already at the edge of the _nulla_, and
preparing to fire, so there was no time to be lost. I struggled
through the water and up the opposite bank, and ducking my head to
avoid the shots, now coming thick and fast, galloped straight into
some high cultivation in which Mayne had already sought shelter.
Finally we succeeded in making our way to the main body of the force,
where we found Hope Grant in great anxiety about us, as he had heard
the firing and knew we were ahead. The dear old fellow evinced his
satisfaction at our safe return by shaking each of us heartily by the
hand, repeating over and over again in his quick, quaint way, 'Well,
my boys, well, my boys, very glad to have you back! never thought
to see you again.' The column now moved on, and we found ourselves
opposed to a vast body of men, not soldiers, but country people,
who in those days were all armed warriors, and who spent their time
chiefly in fighting with each other. As we approached the crowd
turned, opened out, and fled in every direction, spreading over the
plain and concealing themselves in the long grass. We gave chase and
killed many, but a large proportion escaped. Favoured by the high
crops, they disappeared with that marvellous celerity with which
Natives can almost instantly become invisible, leaving in our
possession a 9-pounder brass gun. On this occasion we had thirty
killed and wounded.
We could not at the time understand where the men had sprung from
who so suddenly attacked us; but it afterwards transpired that some
powerful _zemindars_[4] in the neighbourhood had collected all the
forces they could get together, and established them after dark in the
very villages we had so carefully examined the previous afternoon and
had found completely deserted, with the intention of falling upon the
column as it passed in the early morning. The unusually late hour at
which the march was made, however, disconcerted their little plan,
and giving up all hope of the force coming that day, they consoled
themselves by trying to get hold of Mayne and myself.
We halted on the 3rd and 4th November. On the 5th, Hope Grant sent
a force to the Alambagh for the purpose of escorting a long line of
carts and camels laden with provisions and ammunition, which the
Commander-in-Chief was desirous of having near at hand, in case the
relief of the Lucknow garrison should prove a more prolonged operation
than he hoped or anticipated it was likely to be.
As we neared the Alambagh the enemy's guns opened on us from our
right, while their Cavalry threatened us on both flanks. They were
easily disposed of, and we deposited the stores, receiving in exchange
a number of sick and wounded who were to be sent back to Cawnpore.
A curious incident happened at the Alambagh. I was employed inside the
enclosure, when all at once I heard a noise and commotion some little
distance off. Getting on to the roof, I looked over the plain, and saw
our troops flying in every direction; there was no firing, no enemy in
sight, but evidently something was wrong; so I mounted my horse and
rode to the scene of confusion, where I found that the ignominious
flight of our troops was caused by infuriated bees which had been
disturbed by an officer of the 9th Lancers thoughtlessly thrusting a
lance into their nest. There were no serious consequences, but the
Highlanders were heard to remark on the unsuitability of their dress
for an encounter with an enemy of that description.
On the 9th November Sir Colin Campbell joined the column, accompanied
by his Chief of the Staff, Brigadier-General Mansfield.[5]
[Illustration: LORDS CLYDE AND SANDHURST.
(SIR COLIN CAMPBELL AND SIR WILLIAM MANSFIELD.)
_From a photograph taken in India._]
The following morning we were surprised to hear that a European from
the Lucknow garrison had arrived in camp. All were keen to see him,
and to hear how it was faring with those who had been shut up in
the Residency for so long; but the new-comer was the bearer of very
important information from Sir James Outram, and to prevent any chance
of its getting about, the Commander-in-Chief kept the messenger, Mr.
Kavanagh, a close prisoner in his own tent.
Outram, being anxious that the officer in command of the relieving
force should not follow the same route taken by himself and Havelock,
and wishing to communicate his ideas more at length than was possible
in a note conveyed as usual by a spy, Kavanagh, a clerk in an office
in Lucknow, pluckily volunteered to carry a letter. It was an offer
which appealed to the heart of the 'Bayard of the East,' as Outram has
been appropriately called, and just such an errand as he himself,
had he been in a less responsible position, would have delighted to
undertake. Outram thoroughly understood the risk of the enterprise,
and placed it clearly before the brave volunteer, who, nothing
daunted, expressed his readiness to start at once, and his confidence
in being able to reach the British camp.
Disguised as a Native, and accompanied by a man of Oudh, on whose
courage and loyalty he was convinced he could rely, Kavanagh left the
Residency after dark on the 9th and got safely across the Gumti. He
and his guide remained in the suburbs mixing with the people until
the streets might be expected to be pretty well empty, when they
re-crossed the river and got safely through the city. They were
accosted more than once on their way, but were saved by the readiness
of the Native, who it had been arranged should answer all inquiries,
though Kavanagh, having been born and bred in the country, could
himself speak the language fluently. On the morning of the 10th they
made themselves known to a piquet of Punjab Cavalry on duty near the
Alambagh.
Outram, profiting by his own experience, wished the relieving column
to be spared having to fight its way through the streets of Lucknow.
This was all the more necessary because the enemy, calculating on our
following the same route as before, had destroyed the bridge over the
canal and made extensive preparations to oppose our advance in that
direction. Outram explained his views most clearly, and sent with his
letter a plan on which the line he proposed we should take was plainly
marked. He recommended that the advance should be made, by the
Dilkusha[6] and Martinière,[7] and that the canal should be crossed
by the bridge nearest the Gumti. Outram showed his military acumen
in suggesting this route, as our right flank would be covered by the
river, and therefore could only be molested by a comparatively distant
fire. Sir Colin, appreciating all the advantages pointed out, readily
accepted and strictly adhered to this plan of advance, except that,
instead of crossing the canal by the bridge, we forded it a little
nearer the river, a wise divergence from Outram's recommendation, and
one which he would assuredly have advised had he been aware that the
canal was fordable at this spot, as it kept us altogether clear of the
streets.
Outram did not touch in his despatch upon any question but the
all-important one of how the junction between his own and the
relieving forces could best be effected. Many other matters, however,
claimed the earnest consideration of the Commander-in-Chief before he
could proceed. He had to determine what was to be done to secure the
safety of the women and children in the Residency, after the first
most pressing duty of relieving the garrison had been accomplished.
Cawnpore was again in great danger from the Gwalior mutineers, who,
foiled at Agra, and finding that the Maharaja Sindhia would not
espouse their cause, had placed themselves under the orders of the
Rani of Jhansi and Tantia Topi, the vile Mahratta whom the Nana made
use of to carry out the massacre of the Sati-Choura Ghat; led by
this man the rebels were seriously threatening Cawnpore, and it was
necessary to take steps for its security. Then again the city of
Lucknow had to be thought of; its capture and the restoration of
British authority were alike essential, but our Chief knew that he
had neither the time nor the means at his disposal to undertake this
important operation at once. He therefore made up his mind that so
soon as the Residency had been relieved he would withdraw altogether
from Lucknow, and place a force at the Cawnpore side of the city, to
form the nucleus of the army with which he hoped later on to take the
place, and to keep open communication with his Head-Quarters, while
he himself should hurry back to Cawnpore, taking with him all the
non-combatants and the sick and wounded.
[Footnote 1: No account of the quantity and description of supplies
stored in the Residency had been kept, or, if kept, it was destroyed
when the Mutiny broke out. Captain James, the energetic Commissariat
officer, on receiving Sir Henry Lawrence's order to provision the
Residency, spent his time riding about the country buying supplies of
all descriptions, which were stored wherever room could be found for
them. James was very severely wounded at the fight at Chinhut, and was
incapacitated the greater part of the siege. It was only by degrees
that some of the supplies were discovered; no one knew how much had
been collected, and no record of the quantities issued from day to
day could be kept. When Outram joined hands with Inglis, his first
question was, 'How much food is there?' Thanks to Sir Henry Lawrence's
foresight, there was an ample supply, not only for the original
garrison, but for the numbers by which it was augmented on the arrival
of the relieving force. Of this, however, Outram must have been
ignorant when he despatched the little note to which I have alluded in
the text.]
[Footnote 2: On the 25th June, after twenty-one days of intense
suffering--with his numbers so reduced as to render further defence
scarcely possible, with starvation staring him in the face, and with
no hope of succour--Sir Hugh Wheeler most reluctantly consented to
capitulate. The first overtures were made by the Nana, who, despairing
of being able to capture the position, and with disaffection in his
own camp, sent the following message to the General: 'All those who
are in no way connected with the acts of Lord Dalhousie, and are
willing to lay down their arms, shall receive a safe passage to
Allahabad.' This missive, which was without signature, was in the
handwriting of Azimula Khan, a Mahomedan who had been employed by the
Nana as his Agent in England, and was addressed, 'To the subjects of
Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria.' General Wheeler agreed
to give up the fortification, the treasure, and the Artillery, on
condition that each man should be allowed to carry his arms and sixty
rounds of ammunition, that carriages should be provided for the
conveyance of the wounded, the women, and the children, and
that boats, with a sufficiency of flour, should be ready at the
neighbouring _ghat_ (landing-place). The Nana accepted these
conditions, and three officers of the garrison were deputed to go to
the river and see that the boats were properly prepared. They found
about forty boats moored, and apparently ready for departure, and in
their presence a show of putting supplies on board was made.]
[Footnote 3: The Nana never intended that one of the garrison should
leave Cawnpore alive, and during the night of the 26th June he
arranged with Tantia Topi to have soldiers and guns concealed at the
Sati-Choura Ghat to open fire upon the Europeans he had been unable to
conquer as soon as the embarkation had been effected and they could no
longer defend themselves and their helpless companions in misery. The
river was low and the boats were aground, having been purposely drawn
close to the shore. When the last man had stepped on board, at a given
signal the boatmen jumped into the water and waded to the bank. They
had contrived to secrete burning charcoal in the thatch of most of the
boats; this soon blazed up, and as the flames rose and the dry wood
crackled, the troops in ambush on the shore opened fire. Officers and
men tried in vain to push off the boats; three only floated, and of
these two drifted to the opposite side, where sepoys were waiting to
murder the passengers. The third boat floated down the stream, and of
the number on board four eventually escaped--Lieutenants Thomson and
Delafosse, both of the 53rd Native Infantry, Private Murphy of the
84th Foot, and Gunner Sullivan, of the Bengal Artillery. The rest
of the officers and men were killed or drowned, and the women and
children who escaped were carried off as prisoners.]
[Footnote 4: Permanent occupiers of the land, either of the landlord
class, as in Bengal, Oudh, and the North-West Provinces, or of the
yeoman class, as in the Punjab.]
[Footnote 5: Afterwards General Lord Sandhurst, G.C.B., G.C.S.I.]
[Footnote 6: The Dilkusha house was built at the beginning of the
century by a king of Oudh as a hunting-box and country residence, and
close to it he cleared away the jungle and laid out a large park,
which he stocked with herds of deer and other game.]
[Footnote 7: The Martinière was built by Claude Martin, a French
soldier of fortune, who came out to India, under Count de Lally,
in the stirring days of 1757. In 1761 he was taken prisoner by the
English at Pondicherry and sent to Bengal. After the conclusion of
the war he enlisted in the English Army, and on attaining the rank of
Captain he got permission to attach himself to the Court of the King
of Oudh, where he soon obtained supreme influence, and became to all
practical purposes Prime Minister. He remained an officer of the East
India Company's Service, and at the time of his death held the rank
of Major-General. He amassed a large fortune, and by his will founded
colleges at Lucknow, Calcutta, and Lyons, the place of his birth. His
directions that his house at the former place should never be sold,
but should 'serve as a college for educating children and men in
the English language and religion,' were carried out by the British
Government, and Martin lies buried in its vault.]
* * * * *