_FOR MY COUNTRY_
Gwalior was captured by the Rani of Jhansi. Such was the astounding
news carried swiftly from end to end of the Indian Peninsula. The
Natives, for the greater part, hailed it either with secret or open
joy, many nobles, with their retainers, hastening to join the standard
of the redoutable Princess. To the Foreigners, it brought astonishment
and perplexity, with fears that the whole rebellion would burst forth
anew. They realized that a second Jeanne D'Arc, as valiant in battle,
more subtle in council than the Maid of Orleans, moved by the same
passionate love for her country, had cast in their teeth a wager of
defiance, to stand until either they were driven from her state, or she
had perished.
It was no hour for deliberation. Her _coup de main_ had been so well
timed, that unless Gwalior was immediately recaptured, the rains would
descend, making the country impassable for military operations, and her
position thus secure for months to come. The result was unpleasant to
conjecture.
With all haste the army of Central India, that had retired to quarters
for the approaching season of storm, was reorganized, and the general
who had fought against the Rani at Jhansi, at Kunch, and at Kalpi,
marched forth to another test of skill. In his long and honorable
career he had never met an opposing leader more worthy of his steel.
In the meantime the Rani threw all the force of her character, all
the energy of both her body and mind, into preparations for the
struggle she quickly perceived was at hand. She fully appreciated the
material advantage she had gained, she also understood the weaknesses
of her comrades in arms--their tendency to prolong the festivities
in celebration of their victory, their unconquerable disposition to
retreat the moment the Foreigners closed in battle. But now that she
was in supreme command, she determined that at Gwalior it would either
be another victory, or death for herself and the majority of her
companions.
"Canst thou not rest for a little, dear Rani"? Prasad asked, when after
days of untiring energy she continued to bend her efforts to perfect
the defenses. "If the Foreigners come, surely we are safe from them
here."
"Nay Prasad," she returned. "No rest will I take while danger
threatens, and this work remains uncompleted. But in a little there
will come a long rest for me, either in thy arms, my love; or in those
of God."
Prasad, the Rao Sahib, even Tantia Topi, through his jealousy,
marvelled at the spirit of the woman. They curtailed their feasting,
and zealously furthered her commands.
The general belief that the Foreigners would not march upon Gwalior
before the rains was soon dispelled. From two directions, the East and
South, it was learned, that the enemy was rapidly approaching. It was
evident they regarded the recapture of Gwalior as of supreme importance.
It was impossible for the Rani to superintend in person the long
line of defenses raised before Gwalior, so she delegated the command
of those to the south to Tantia Topi, reserving for herself the
less strongly fortified position amid the hills and ravines to the
south-east of the city, lying between that place and the village of
Kotah-ki-sari. There she awaited the army advancing from the east,
impatiently for a few days; with still greater impatience on the
Sixteenth of June, when the distant roar of cannon announced that
Tantia Topi was engaged with the Foreigners at Morar, on her extreme
right.
Throughout the day various reports reached her ears. At one time, it
was claimed, that the Foreigners were successively repulsed, beaten,
and in full retreat; later, that Tantia Topi was as usual practicing
masterly tactics in a retrograde movement.
"Ah, now, may God curse his cowardice," she cried passionately, to the
messenger. "Return with all speed and order him to stand wherever he
may be; for if I find him in the Gwalior fortress, one of us shall die
for it."
But Tantia was not of standing fibre before Foreign bayonets. If in
little else, he was a genius in limbering up his guns and dragging them
away from desperate positions. That night the Rani was informed that
he had succeeded in executing a clever strategic act. He had held the
Foreigners at bay until he was able to move back upon Gwalior in good
order with his guns, abandoning Morar, a useless place, to the enemy.
On the morrow he believed he would rout them utterly.
The Rani's anger, her contempt for such conduct of warfare, could
scarcely find expression in words or action. She sat in her tent, sick
at heart, pondering deeply over the situation.
"What can I do"? she murmured. "I cannot command at all points of this
wide field at the same moment. Is there no one but me who hath the
courage to dash forward? These Foreigners are only men like ourselves.
They are not Gods. God knows, far from it. Have I not seen many of them
perish at Jhansi, at Kunch, and at Kalpi"?
"Go," she commanded to an aid-de-camp. "Go to Tantia Topi, and say that
if he doth make such another masterly retreat, the Rani of Jhansi will
aid herself by attacking him in rear, and driving him on to the enemy's
bayonets."
Then she retired to a temple and prayed long and fervently to the
God of Battles, that on the morrow her troops might be endowed with
invincible courage, that once more He would give her arms a victory.
The day broke with an atmosphere charged with sweltering heat. Soon the
rocks and sand burned to the touch as if but a thin crust lay between
their feet and a mighty furnace. If its oppressiveness was felt by
the Rani's troops, it bore tenfold more heavily upon the Foreigners,
fatigued by a long march.
The Rani had taken up a position with cavalry, artillery and infantry
among the hills intervening between the enemy and the plain of Gwalior.
Her plan was to draw the Foreigners into the ravines by a feint of
retreat, holding them there in conflict with intrenched infantry and
masked batteries, while she swept down with her cavalry through a
flank defile upon their rear. She might thus capture their baggage and
ammunition train, throwing their front into hopeless confusion.
At daybreak she beheld the enemy advance to the assault.
All through that day the battle was waged with desperate valor on both
sides. Step by step the Foreigners fought their way into the ravines,
driving the Native troops before them. At different stages the Rani
rode into the thick of the combat to animate her followers, with Prasad
bearing her standard. Her counter attack was delivered at an opportune
moment, but was frustrated. Evening approached to find both armies
exhausted, the Rani's first position captured, but her forces still
held well together. A decisive victory could not as yet be claimed by
either side; for the Rani had decided to continue the battle throughout
the night.
It was in a moment of temporary rest, that the Foreign general ordered
his cavalry to charge, with the object of driving the Rani's bodyguard
out into the Gwalior plain. The movement took the latter by surprise,
with a resulting panic.
The Rani bravely fronted the oncoming squadrons in an endeavor to rally
her troopers, but in the tumult her horse took the bit in its teeth and
carried her away in the rout. At their heels the Foreign horsemen were
slashing and firing their pistols mercilessly. Again and again the Rani
called on her troopers to halt, but they only rode for the camp the
faster. She reined in her horse and turned, to find she was the last on
that part of the field. A hussar was upon her with uplifted sword.
The blow fell but she parried it adroitly, and delivered another in
return that slightly wounded her assailant. More hussars coming fast
in their leader's wake, the odds were too uneven against her. She set
her horse at a ditch a few yards in front, beyond which was safety.
The brute urged by her voice leaped forward to the bank, then refused
to jump, stumbled and fell with its rider. Before she could extricate
herself, the hussar dashed upon her with fury nettled by the pain of
his wound. As he swept by, he leveled his pistol and fired. The bullet
lodged in her breast, her sword fell from her hand, she sank to the
ground in unconsciousness to rise no more.
Over the ditch the hussar passed little thinking that he had dealt a
mortal wound to the "bravest and best" of the Native leaders. In his
eyes she had appeared only as one of their officers.
Soon the Foreigners' bugles sounded the recall, the Rani's bodyguard
rallied and charged back over the field, but it was too late to save
their mistress. They discovered her where she had fallen, and gently,
sadly, bore her back to her tent.
There it was made apparent that her end was quickly approaching.
Prasad, heartbroken, bitterly reproached himself that he had not
remained at her side to protect her from harm. He had taken her
lifeless form in his arms. About them were grouped men who had never
before experienced a tender emotion. Tears coursed down their fierce,
bronzed, visages.
Prasad's gentle caresses at last recalled the Rani to consciousness.
"Well Prasad," she asked in a faint voice. "How went the battle? All is
not lost I hope, though I am wounded to the death."
"Ah, dear one," he sadly returned. "All is truly lost with thee."
"Do not speak thus," she replied, painfully exerting herself to a
return of spirit. "While brave men live no cause is lost."
Then turning her gaze upon the grief stricken countenances of her
troopers, she enjoined them not to weep for her.
"For thy tears will bring forth mine," she pleaded, "and the true
soldier cries not on facing death."
With assistance, she then removed Sindhia's necklace from her breast.
She directed the strings to be broken, and summoning her ever faithful
Valaitis gave to each, in turn, a pearl in remembrance of their fair
captain.
"Farewell," she said, as each saluted with uncontrolled grief. "Be
brave and fight on until the end."
Soon Prasad remained with her alone.
For a time she rested her head upon his breast with her arms about him.
Many loving, sorrowful words were exchanged, until she felt the moment
of dissolution nigh.
"Prasad," she said. "Place thy hand within my jacket. Thou wilt find my
parting gift to thee there."
He obeyed as she directed, and drew forth his dagger.
"Thy dagger, O Prasad," she exclaimed. "I have kept it to protect my
honor. I give it back to thee to save thine own in case of need. And
now, my dear Lord, one request have I to ask of thee before I say
farewell. I beg thou wilt see to it, that no Foreign eye doth gaze upon
my body after I am dead."
In a sorrowful whisper he promised to comply.
"Then farewell," she said. "Farewell Prasad, may God love thee as truly
as I have done."
"Farewell"? he exclaimed interrogatively. "I will not leave thee yet
alone."
"Prasad," she returned. "It is my will to be alone. Nay, I shall not be
alone. Again I say, farewell to thee, for thine eyes must not behold my
last moment."
He embraced her once more, laid her gently back amid the pillows, then
rose obediently to her command. He paused on the threshold of the
entrance to gaze for the last time upon her face. In its beautiful
features there was discernible neither sign of weakness nor of
fear--her spirit remained heroic to the end. He covered his eyes with
his hands and passed forth.
Within the tent a profound, mysterious, silence fell, as the darkness
of night descended on the land. The Rani clasped her hands upon her
breast as her lips murmured a last prayer.
"Great God of Gods. O most holy, omnipotent One. If I have sinned
against the laws of my caste, it was for the love of my country. Surely
thou wilt forgive a woman who has tried to inspire others to be brave
and just. O India," she cried, raising herself with difficulty upon her
side and stretching forth her arms, "farewell. Farewell my people, my
brave soldiers whom I have loved to lead in battle against the foe. Not
forever shall their horsemen ride triumphantly through the land. A day
will come when their law shall be no longer obeyed, and our temples and
palaces rise anew from their ruins. Farewell! Farewell! O Gods of my
fathers, be with me now."
She drew the folds of a shawl over her face to hide her death agony,
and again lay down. The blackness of night grew deeper, the silence
more intense. Presently, strange, warrior forms seemed to appear from
the unknown and filled the Rani's tent. One supremely beautiful figure,
in dazzling raiment, came forth to enfold the dying woman in her arms.
In a little, a wail of lamentation rose across the intervening space
between the camps of the two armies. The Foreign soldiers asked its
meaning of one another.
The answer might have been, that the spirit of the heroic Lachmi Bai
had been gathered to the protecting arms of Param-eswara, the merciful,
the just, the all supreme God, alike of the Hindu, the Mohammedan, and
the Christian.
The Rani of Jhansi was dead.
* * * * *
Great was the pomp and solemn the ceremony with which they carried out
her last desire, so that even her body might not fall into the hands of
the enemy.
Before the day had come again, a long procession took its way from
Sindhia's palace to a point on the bank of the Morar river, where a
flower-decked funeral pyre had been erected.
In the van troopers marched with mournful step, followed by officers
bearing torches. Then came Brahman priests, naked to the waist in
performance of their sacred office. They chanted from the Vedas and
scattered rice upon the way. These preceded the bier, upon which, under
a canopy of cloth of gold, lay the body of the Rani, attired in royal
robes, with the marks of her high caste set upon her forehead. Directly
following, walked her aged _guru_, whose solemn duty it would be, in
the absence of a relative, to ignite the funeral pyre. Lastly, Prasad
with the Rao Sahib, attended by all the nobles of the court.
Beside the whole length of the route traversed by the procession, a
multitude of people had gathered, whose lamentations rent the air.
The bier was carried slowly to its destination, and seven times round
the funeral pyre. Then the Rani's body was lifted tenderly and placed
upon its last bed of death, rice was scattered over all, and the dry
brush, saturated with _ghee_, ignited.
The flames leaped high, illuminating many weeping faces, and throwing
into relief the figures of Brahmans, nobles, and officers, grouped in a
majestic scene. Quickly the tongues of fire reduced to ashes the Rani's
mortal form. These, the priests reverentially collected, and, with
prayers, cast them upon the waters of the river, to be carried into the
bosom of holy Ganges.
"Farewell," cried Prasad, as he stood upon the bank. "Farewell, thou
brave, dear Rani. I doubt not I shall be with thee soon."
That day the sun of India hid its face behind gathering clouds, the
storm, the monsoon burst.
THE END
_A DRONE and
A DREAMER_
By NELSON LLOYD
_Author of "The Chronic Loafer"_
AN AMERICAN LOVE STORY
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FOOTNOTES:
[1] The _chupaty_, or cake of unleavened bread, that circulated in a
mysterious manner previous to the outbreak of the Indian Rebellion.
[2] Secretary.
[3] Spiritual teacher. In its nearest interpretation, Godparent.
[4] A kind of sedan chair.
[5] A last desperate general self sacrifice.
Transcriber's Notes
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
Hyphen removed: bodyguard (p. 208), prearranged (p. 205), waistband (p.
142).
P. 16: "thing" changed to "think" (I think the Rani is a devilish
clever girl).
P. 109: "Ahbar" changed to "Akbar" (Akbar knoweth whom to trust).
P. 295: "clapsed" changed to "clasped" (The Rani clasped her hands).
End of Project Gutenberg's Lachmi Bai Rani of Jhansi, by Michael White