[Illustration: Cover]
LACHMI BAI
Rani
of
Jhansi
MICHAEL WHITE
LACHMI BAI
[Illustration: "Lachmi Bai! Lachmi Bai! Rani of Jhansi!" they
cried.--Page 31.]
[Illustration: Decorated title page]
Lachmi Bai
Rani
of
Jhansi
The
Jeanne D'Arc
of India
By
Michael
White
New York
J. F. Taylor & Company
1901
COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY
J. F. TAYLOR AND
COMPANY, NEW YORK
_Press of
Riggs Printing Company
Albany, N. Y._
_To
my wife_
_The_ RANI _of_ JHANSI
"Being young, vigorous, and not afraid to show herself to the
multitude, she gained a great influence over the hearts of the people.
It was this influence, this force of character, added to a splendid and
inspiring courage, that enabled her to offer a desperate resistance
to the British.... Whatever her faults in British eyes may have been,
her countrymen will ever believe that she was driven by ill-treatment
into rebellion; that her cause was a righteous cause. To them she will
always be a heroine."
KAYE AND MALLESON,
"_History of the Indian Mutiny_."
[Illustration: Female face]
LACHMI BAI
Within no peerless Taj Mahal her body lies,
No gilded dome, nor fairy minarets against the azure skies,
Proclaim the place, where she, called by her foes, the "bravest
and the best,"
Was laid by reverential hands to her victorious rest:
But in the eternal sanctuary of her race,
The holy river, holy Mother Ganges, that coveted embrace,
Doth hold her ashes, and for a monument to her name,
Sufficeth it, that in the people's hearts, her fame,
Doth shine immortal. For she was deeply loved, this Queen,
The beauteous, valiant Rani, India's great heroine.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. BEFORE THE STORM 1
II. THE HOUR AT HAND 18
III. BY THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE 23
IV. A STAR IN THE ASCENDENT 36
V. AHMAD RETURNS TO COURT 48
VI. THE OATH 61
VII. HOW AHMAD KEPT HIS OATH 72
VIII. THE DARBAR 85
IX. AT THE HOUSE OF AHMAD KHAN 101
X. THE WHITE TURRET 107
XI. A SHREWD DIAGNOSIS 117
XII. AHMAD AGAIN NONPLUSSED 126
XIII. WHAT BIPIN OVERHEARD 139
XIV. AT THE TOMB OF FIROZ KHAN 155
XV. IN THE COURSE OF EVENTS 172
XVI. JHANSI BESIEGED 184
XVII. WITH SWORD AND TORCH 193
XVIII. A PRINCE IN SCARLET 207
XIX. A CALL TO THE HEART 218
XX. BIPIN TAKES A PRISONER 229
XXI. THE GREAT COUP DE MAIN 237
_LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS_
"Lachmi Bai--Lachmi Bai--Rani of Jhansi"! they cried
(page 31) _Frontispiece_
PAGE
"Then will I set forth to bring this dog of a Maharaja to his
senses"? 57
"Didst thou mark that languorous glance she cast on thee"? 105
With the exception of a white turban, she was attired in a
blood-red uniform from head to foot 213
Her horse leaped forward straight for Sindhia's guns 255
"Never have I hungered for aught else but thee, fair Rani" 267
LACHMI BAI
Chapter I
_BEFORE THE STORM_
It was a day of angry, torrid heat. The June sun of Central India
blazed fiercely upon an uneven plain, upon a river winding to the
northward, a lake bordered by trees, and upon the walled city of Jhansi
with its rock fortress rising precipitously to guard the western front.
Beneath the south wall, amid groves of acacia, whose parched and
dust-coated limbs seemed to implore a speedy descent of the rains then
due, were discernible the white domes of temples and tombs. A little
further away, surrounded by gardens, were situated the bungalows of the
Foreign residents, the cantonments of their troops, and the Star Fort
containing their treasure and arms.
The hour of noon approached. Over all a reposeful silence reigned.
Everyone had sought the shelter of cool halls and darkened chambers.
In the fort and cantonments the soldiers had been dismissed from their
duties; on the roads leading to the city there was little traffic;
within the gates the bazaars were deserted; not a dog even ventured
upon the blistering stones of the palace courtyard. Only in the shadow
of a pillar near the main entrance to that turreted structure, a blind
beggar sat, every now and then raising his monotonous cry for pity and
alms.
Externally, an indefinite era of peace seemed to have settled upon
Jhansi. Except for the periodical anxiety concerning the rains, there
appeared to be no disquieting feature disturbing its outward calm. Yet
for months past in that year of 1857 a token,[1] a warning of some
great impending occurrence had gone forth through the land; from whence
proceeding few men knew, to what purpose the masses did not comprehend,
though they watched. With indifference as to what it might portend, the
Foreigners had also observed the sign.
But in one place in Jhansi that day there was no rest at the noontide
hour. It was in the palace of the disinherited Rani, or Princess of
the state. There, an atmosphere of suspense, an air laden with that
mysterious foreboding that some mighty event was about to take place,
permeated every apartment, the halls, courts, and corridors. The very
walls seemed to live with sinister animation. Men, many of them with
arms displayed openly, moved stealthily back and forth from room to
room, gathering in groups to discuss some weighty topic with hushed
accents. Even the women servants appeared to have caught the infection
of the hour, pausing to glean snatches of the men's conversation, and
passing on with significant looks.
In a small enclosed garden of the palace, where palms, bright-leaved
crotons, and fragrant blossoms, afforded a refreshing retreat from the
atmospherical furnace without, a man and woman paced side by side in
earnest discourse. The man was tall, bronze-visaged, and of martial
bearing; the woman slender in form, graceful in carriage, and beautiful
in so far as one might gather from features partly concealed by a fold
of her embroidered _chuddah_. The former was a Mohammedan noble, Ahmad
Khan; the latter, Lachmi Bai, the disinherited Rani of Jhansi.
At a turn in their walk the Princess turned to confront her companion.
"You say, my Lord," she spoke quickly, "that Bahadur Shah once more
reigns supreme in Delhi; that the troops at Aligurth have marched out
to join his standard; that Bareli has fallen into the hands of Khan
Bahadur Khan; and yet there is no news from Bithur. When, in Heaven's
name, is Dundhu Panth, the Peshwa, going to send us the signal to rise
in Jhansi? For a month past my people have impatiently strained on the
leash, awaiting my word to rush forth and drive the Foreigners from the
State. I cannot--nay I cannot hold them in hand much longer. God knows,
they have their own wrongs as well as mine to redress."
Ahmad raised a hand restrainingly.
"Patience! Patience! my Lady Rani," he exclaimed. "In a little, to-day,
to-morrow, surely the Peshwa's messenger will arrive. Restraint will be
for the best in the end. The arm of your people will strike all the
harder; their onset will be the more irresistible."
"Aye, truly," she replied, "but you forget, O Ahmad, that the
Foreigners will not sleep forever. The news from Delhi must have
reached their ears. A single traitor might cause them to awake,
defeating all our plans. I fear that the blow upon which we have staked
so much, may yet fall without cleaving to the heart."
A Native officer in Foreign uniform entered the garden. He halted and
saluted.
The Rani and her companion turned quickly toward him with expressions
of sudden alarm.
The officer advanced to deliver a message.
"Your Highness," he began, addressing the Rani. "The Commissioner and
Captain Sahibs will shortly arrive at the palace to seek an audience. I
have been sent forward to acquaint you of their visit."
The Rani stepped close to the officer and scrutinized his features.
Then she grasped him tightly by the sleeve of his jacket.
"Thou art the Jamadar Golab Das"? she interrogated.
"As thou sayest, noble Rani."
"Tell me, O Golab," she besought anxiously. "Have they heard? Have the
eyes of the Foreigners been opened? Hath a traitor whispered in their
ears"?
"They sleep on, all thy people are faithful," the officer returned
significantly.
A sigh of relief escaped the Rani's lips.
"It is well," she exclaimed. "Then I will see the Foreign Sahibs. Go,
carry them that message."
The officer again saluted and left her presence.
As if a sudden inspiration had gained possession of the Rani's mind,
she turned to Ahmad and spoke authoritatively.
"It is my will to see the Foreign Sahibs alone in the _Darbar_ hall."
He made a gesture as if about to protest against her purpose.
"Nay," she continued, "Nay, good Ahmad. It is the best plan. If they
see me unattended they will be less suspicious. Go, order everyone
to hide from view. Let not a face be seen or a voice heard. Let
these walls be as silent as a tomb--aye even as the tomb that these
Foreigners have built about my life, depriving me of what was justly
mine. The palace sleeps, they will say. This woman can do no harm."
She gracefully recognized the Mohammedan noble's bow, signifying his
compliance to her order, and moved quickly to a door leading to her
private apartments.
At the southern gate of the city, the two Foreign Sahibs, attended by a
Native orderly, were met by Golab Das, bearing the Rani's reply.
"Well Jamadar," said the military officer, "What does the Rani say? Did
you see her personally"?
"I saw the Princess, your Excellency," returned the Jamadar. "She bade
me say that she waits to learn the pleasure of your will."
"Tell me, Jamadar," continued the officer. "Was there any sign of
uneasiness about the palace? People gathering, or additions being made
to the Rani's bodyguard"?
"My eyes beheld no such gathering of people," returned the Jamadar
laconically. "The Rani's servants are resting from the heat."
The officer ordered his subordinate to return to the cantonments.
As they moved forward he turned a look of satisfaction toward his
companion.
"Well Hawksley," said he. "I doubt after all if we shall have the fun
yet of cutting our way through a mass of fanatics."
The Commissioner's face maintained a thoughtful expression.
"I did not anticipate that we would," he returned.
"Yes, but you are as full of gloomy forebodings as any old fortune
teller," asserted the other.
"Oh! not at all," exclaimed the Commissioner, "only I think the
situation more serious than the rest of us are inclined to regard it."
"What in Jhansi"?
"Yes, in Jhansi. Now look here, Vane," continued the Commissioner
gravely. "Let us see how we stand. There is no doubt something horrible
has taken place in Delhi."
"Rumors only," interposed the other, "and even then an isolated case.
That old rascal, Bahadur Shah, will soon be brought to his senses, and
punished drop for drop of our blood."
"I hope so," remarked the Commissioner. "But this morning I heard that
the troops at Bareli had revolted and seized the place."
"A band of marauders," added the soldier lightly. "They will be hanged
when caught, every one of them. For my part, I fail to perceive how
these scattered out-breaks are likely to affect us in Jhansi."
"Yes, indirectly they may," the Commissioner persisted. "Now look here,
Vane. Think a moment seriously, if you can do such a thing. Here we are
a paltry hundred and fifty odd Europeans in the heart of India, far
removed from the least chance of assistance."
"We shall not need any," remarked the soldier emphatically. "If the
people hereabout should create any disturbance, my men will soon deal
with them. They have sworn to a unit that they will stand by their salt
oath of allegiance. I have implicit confidence in them."
"Granted! Granted that what you assert may be true," rejoined the
Commissioner, "but to my mind the element of danger here lies in
another direction."
"Where pray"? demanded the other dubiously.
They had passed the gate and were traversing the almost deserted
bazaars.
"Where pray"? he asked again, glancing along a row of empty stalls. "I
confess, I fail to note any sign of it."
"Perhaps not," rejoined the Commissioner, "but it is in evidence
nevertheless. I refer to the Rani."
"What, to that girl, the Rani," the officer exclaimed.
"Nonsense! What mischief can she do. Her talons have been well pared
for any evil that she might design."
"My dear Vane," said the Commissioner sagely. "Never underestimate the
power and resources of a woman, if she nourishes a grievance."
"A grievance"?
"Yes, frankly, though unofficially, I consider that she has a
grievance--even a just one against us. Now what is her position? First,
we took from her the estate of her affianced husband, that by her law
she was clearly entitled to hold."
"But transferred, I thought, according to the provisions of a treaty
made with the late Raja."
"True, but still she was none the less a heavy loser by it. Well then,
by way of recompense for this, what did we do? We gave her a paltry
$30,000 a year."
"A devilish good allowance, I call it," flippantly interposed Vane. "I
only wish I had $30,000 a year, and the Rani or the deuce might do what
they pleased with Jhansi. Dear old Pall Mall would soon see me on the
double."
The Commissioner refused to notice his companion's light humor.
"Out of that allowance," he proceeded, "small enough in all conscience
for one in her position, we insisted on deducting a sinking fund to pay
the late Raja's debts."
Vane struck his boot a smart rap with the end of his whip.
"Oh, hang it!" he exclaimed. "That was bad. It's shocking enough to be
obliged to meet one's own i.o.u.'s; but to settle up for another fellow
is monstrous. My sympathy there is with the Rani, though it wasn't our
fault, you know."
"Yes, I thought that would appeal to you," remarked the Commissioner
dryly, "but if I am not mistaken that matter of killing cows, in spite
of her protests, has enraged her more than the loss of either the
Jhansi throne or the revenue. That, was an unnecessary insult to her
religious sensibilities. Now what I maintain is this, if she has been
waiting for a favorable opportunity to strike a blow for what she may
regard as her lost position and injured feelings, the present is as
good a one as she is likely to be afforded. Her influence with the
people is, I am convinced, a quantity worth taking into account."
Vane yawned with the heat and the little interest he felt in both the
subject and the visit. He was satisfied that the Commissioner's fears
were groundless, that there was not the slightest danger of an outbreak
in Jhansi, and only with difficulty had he been persuaded to accompany
his colleague to the Rani's palace.
"In any case, suppose there is something in your idea," he asked, "what
can she do"?
"That is exactly what we are going to try and discover," returned the
Commissioner firmly.
They had arrived before the main entrance to the palace. They
dismounted and handed the reins of their horses to the native orderly.
Vane glanced contemptuously at an obsequious aged servant who had come
forth to receive them, and round upon the drowsy appearance of the
buildings.
"Conspiracy! Uprising of the people! Nonsense"! he ejaculated.
"Hawksley's imagination has gone wandering. I'd wager six months' pay
the girl is trembling at the bare idea of our visit."
As the request for an audience had been made upon the spur of the
moment, the Commissioner regarded it as a favorable sign that the Rani
consented to receive them without delay.
They were ushered through an inner courtyard surrounded by cloisters,
in the shade of which a few Natives awoke to salute the Foreign Sahibs
as they passed. Thence through dark halls and ante-chambers, in which
the echo of their footsteps alone broke the profound silence that had
descended on the palace. At last they crossed the threshold of the
_Darbar_ hall.
At the further end of the noble chamber, where for centuries it had
been the custom of the Princes of Jhansi to dispense justice, she,
from whom justice had been withheld, stood to receive her visitors.
In the sight of the two officers as they gazed down a nave of pillars
supporting the ornately decorated roof, she appeared as the statue of
some divinity in the far perspective of an ancient temple--a youthful,
white robed, graceful figure, brought into strong relief by a dark
background of gold embroidered arras.
As if to emphasize the powerless condition to which she had been
reduced, the Rani was attended by a single waiting woman, who remained
throughout the interview a few paces in her rear, motionless and
apparently unobservant.
The officers advanced to within a few paces of her position and saluted
her respectfully.
With a slight inclination of her head, she acknowledged their greeting
and waited to learn the nature of their errand.
The Commissioner had anticipated that the Rani would have hastily
surrounded herself with numerous retainers to impress him with a
semblance of her power. He realized that a hundred splendidly attired
courtiers could not have added a shade of prestige to this girl, who
stood alone.
It was not only the majestic pose, nor the beautiful contour of her
face, crowned by a mass of dark hair, ornamented with a chaplet of
pearls, that quickly confirmed the Commissioner's previous impression
that Lachmi Bai, Rani of Jhansi, was far removed from the generally
accepted type of her countrywomen. But there was a strength of
character emphasized in every line of her distinctly Aryan features, a
force of will, a mystical power in every flash of her lustrous eyes,
in every movement, in every word, however gently spoken, warning him
at the outset that he had to deal with no shrinking, simple, _zanana_
maiden.
He had come prepared to assume a firm, if necessary a dictatorial
attitude; but now in her presence he found himself slowly paving the
way by conventional compliments.
Her silence at last compelled him to come to the point.
"Your Highness," he began, "will doubtless have heard of the
disturbances that have broken out in several districts of the Northwest
Provinces."
"Some reports have reached my ears," she replied, with apparent
indifference, "but I give to them little credence."
"I am afraid," resumed the Commissioner gravely, "that there is only
too much reason to believe their authenticity. I have, therefore,
sought this audience with your Highness to request that in the event
of any threatened outbreak in Jhansi, you will use your influence to
preserve peace. I need not add that by so doing, by demonstrating at
such a crisis that your sympathy is with the British Government, you
will be rendering a service to the latter that I, personally, will
guarantee shall not be overlooked."
The representative of the power that had deprived her of her
possessions stood before her as a supplicant for her good will.
A nature less subtle, less under such admirable control, might at the
moment have been over tempted to cast prudence to the winds, and in an
outburst of long gathering passion jeopardize the complete success of
her plans by summoning her retainers to seize prematurely the persons
of the British officers. But trained in adversity, that best of schools
to curb her real feelings, by not a sign did she betray, that for
months past she had been preparing for the hour when the fate of Jhansi
should rest in the palm of her hand; nor the infallible knowledge
she possessed, that every man in the city, aye even every woman and
child, together with the whole body of native troops within the British
cantonments, awaited her signal to rise in revolt.
In a voice, in which only the faintest note of irony was mingled with
surprise, she answered quietly.
"Surely the Foreign Sahib sets too great store upon my ability to
assist him. What have I," she continued, raising the tone slightly,
and extending a hand so that the gold bangles on her wrist jingled
musically. "What influence hath Lachmi Bai with the people to control
their actions? If they should rebel, has not the Sahib soldiers and
guns to enforce his will; I, but a few poor servants to protect my
person. No," she concluded, letting her hand fall again to her side,
"the Sahib knows well I have no power, no authority in Jhansi."
The Commissioner twirled his moustache musingly. He knew that without
doubt she had stated the literal truth; but he was now more firmly
convinced than ever, that behind the dark eyes which so unflinchingly
returned his gaze, there lay a power for good or evil in a possible
emergency, that it would be suicidal to ignore.
Gravely he resumed the subject.
"It would be a poor compliment," he said, "to the esteem in which it is
well known your Highness is held by the people, to place your influence
at so low a value. Should an uprising take place in Jhansi, you could
do much to preserve law and order."
For a few moments neither spoke. Each regarded the other as if
endeavoring to find a vulnerable point in the contest of diplomacy,
when the Rani skilfully turned the subject to her own advantage.
She was anxious to discover if any suspicion of her plans had been
engendered in the minds of the Foreigners, and how far they depended
for their safety upon the fidelity of their native troops, already won
over to her cause. She therefore replied by another question.
"But have you any reason to think that the peace will be broken in
Jhansi"?
"At present, I have not," the Commissioner replied, after a short
period of reflection.
"And even in that event you can surely rely upon the loyalty of your
native troops"? she suggested with apparent absence of motive.
"Yes, I believe so," he affirmed decisively. "Certainly they will
remain true to their salt."
"Then why come to me," she asked, "to seek assistance for which you are
likely to have so little need"?
The Commissioner realized that argumentatively, his position was no
longer tenable. So he determined to revert to his original purpose and
make a firm demand upon the evasive young Princess.
"Nevertheless," he replied sternly. "It is my duty to inform you, that
the British Government will hold you responsible for any outbreak among
the people."
The Rani raised her eyebrows slightly, as she retorted in a rising tone
of protest.
"Surely the Commissioner Sahib does not remember the position in which
his Government has placed me. He forgets that it not only deprived
me of my inheritance of the throne of Jhansi, but of my affianced
husband's personal estates, and even compelled me out of the pittance
of an allowance provided for my support to pay his debts. Thus, often
have the poor in vain cried to me to alleviate their distress, daily
are Brahmans turned from my gates unfed. I cannot help them. For
the reason that you have deprived me of the means wherewith even to
influence the actions of a beggar, I cannot assist you. I do not see,
nay, I do not understand how I can be held responsible for the public
peace. As well might you extract the teeth of a watch dog and expect
it to guard your treasure safely. Does your Government also hold me
responsible for the loyalty of your troops"? she concluded, with a note
of scorn.
"No," he returned with emphasis, "but it will undoubtedly look to your
Highness to act in the event of an outbreak, as I have suggested."
The ultimatum had been delivered.
The two officers bowed to the Rani and retraced their steps to the end
of the hall. On the threshold Vane paused for a moment. He glanced over
his shoulder and met the gaze of the Rani still fixed upon them. With
her hands folded she had remained in the same position; but there was
an unmistakable expression of scornful triumph on her face, carrying
swift conviction to his mind, that their mission had failed, that this
mere girl had routed their arguments and baffled their diplomacy.
As they passed down the steps, he linked his arm in that of his
companion. He spoke in an undertone, with no vestige of his flippant
humor remaining.
"I say, Hawksley. I say, old fellow. D'you know, I think the Rani is a
devilish clever girl. We didn't get much out of her, did we"?
The Commissioner eyed his companion seriously.
"Yes," he acquiesced. "For my part, Vane, I believe it would have been
better for all of us if we had arrived at that conclusion before."
They had scarcely disappeared from the hall, when white figures seemed
to emerge from the very walls.
The Rani waved them back with a warning gesture.
"Go," she enjoined her attendant. "Go, Rati, and see if the Foreigners
have left the court."
In a few minutes the girl returned with the information that the
Foreign Sahibs had mounted their horses.
The Rani raised her arms above her head and cried aloud as she gave
full vent to her suppressed emotion.
"Fools! Fools all! Of what do they think I am made. Am I clay to be
moulded into any form, a pitcher with which to draw water for them when
thirsty? Ah! By the great God of Gods, I swear that before another sun
has set, they shall find that the will, if not the form of Lachmi Bai
is fashioned out of steel."
Quickly she was surrounded by an eager throng, clamoring for news of
the audience.
"What said the Foreign Sahibs, O Rani"? they besought her. "Tell us, O
Queen, what said they"?
She waved them from her gently.
"It is enough," she cried, "that still hearing no sound but the call to
plunder, they are deaf to the mighty whisper passed down from palace to
hovel, and on from city to jungle, that the hour for India is at hand."