[3] _Kaye's Sepoy War_, Vol. II, p. 645.
IV.
STORMING THE CITY.
From that time till the morning of the 11th, when the last of the four
batteries was completed, our gallant Engineers and working parties and
Gunners worked as men have never worked before or since. All night
long picks and spades and shovels were busily plied, under a heavy
fire, in constructing the batteries; on which, so soon as finished,
the heavy guns and mortars were mounted; and as successively they were
placed in position they joined in swelling the furious storm of shot
and shell which never ceased tearing down the masonry of the city
defences till the moment of the assault in the grey dawn of the 14th.
The last battery was built under the shelter of the ruined walls of the
Custom-house, at a distance of 180 yards from the water bastion, under
a terrific and incessant fire from the Kashmir and Water bastions
and the curtain between them, Let the reader try to realise this; and
he will admit that no more desperate or daring enterprise was ever
achieved in front of a besieged fortress.
On the 13th it was my hard fate to be on outpost duty at Azadpore,
where rumours reached me that the assault was likely to be delivered
before dawn on the 14th. My picquet should in ordinary course have
been relieved that morning, but no relief came; and as the day wore
on, it seemed that I was destined to be left out there kicking my
heels, forlorn and forgotten, till all should be over. This was more
than could be borne; so I despatched messenger after messenger into
camp with imploring letters, begging for the recall of my picquet.
My entreaties were successful, and I had the intense, if selfish,
gratification of at length seeing in the distance the small column
of dust which heralded the approach of the party that had been sent
to take my place. Very grumpy and sulky was the officer in command;
but, after all, it was his turn for the duty. Every one must take
his luck as it comes. Consoling him with this crusted old apothegm, I
lost no time in clearing out of the post and taking my detachment back
to camp; but even then I was destined to grievous disappointment. The
troops intended to form the Cavalry Brigade under Sir Hope Grant had
been told off, and my party had to content itself with forming part
of the reserve which remained in camp. So I lost the chance of being
one of the glorious six hundred, whose heroic endurance that day under
a fierce hurricane of grape and musketry "prevented the enemy, who
had driven back the 4th Column, from advancing along the open ground
between the Ridge and the City, and taking the whole of our left attack
in flank."[4] When the attempt of the column under the gallant Colonel
Reid to force an entrance into the City by the Lahore Gate failed,
partly owing to the want of artillery, and partly to the defeat of the
auxiliary Kashmir contingent, the whole brunt of keeping the victorious
rebels, many thousands in numbers, from pouring out of Kissengunge and
pursuing our retreating infantry, fell on the Cavalry Brigade. Before,
however, the enemy could dare to trust themselves on the plain beyond
the shelter of their walls, it was necessary to drive the horsemen
from it; and fierce was the effort to do so. From the walls of the
City, from the suburbs of Kissengunge, a fiery hail of lead unceasingly
swept. Saddle after saddle was emptied; horse after horse fell, but not
for a moment was there the slightest wavering or unsteadiness. Quietly
and without confusion the ranks continued to close together and fill
ever-recurring gaps, grimly determined to hold their ground to the last
man. Utterly unable to return the fire, or to do anything but remain
immoveable as passive living targets, they seemed doomed to eventual
annihilation--when Tomb's famous troop of horse artillery galloped to
the rescue. Taking up a position at the closest of close quarters, not
more than two hundred yards from the enemy, it was not long after our
guns came into action that they drove the hitherto triumphant rebels
back from the external walls into the labyrinth of houses in their
rear, and materially reduced their fire. But from the Lahore Gate an
unsilenced 24-pounder still continued to pour grape into the ranks, and
to tear many a ghastly gap in them. Not till the rebel fire, drawn off
by the success of our attack on the Kashmiri Gate, had dwindled away to
harmlessness, and all danger of a sortie was effectually extinguished,
was the sorely crippled Cavalry Brigade withdrawn from its post of
honour.
Though this deed of the six hundred before the walls of Delhi has not
been sung by the Poet Laureate, and is not so world-famous as that of
the other six hundred at Balaclava, it fully deserves to be bracketed
with it as an example of heroism and self-sacrificing devotion. Each is
a brilliant instance of the perfect union of discipline and courage.
If the charge of the Light Brigade was a blunder, so much the greater
is the glory of the brave men who rode to death without questioning
their orders.
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.
There was no blunder in the order which devoted the six hundred of
the Delhi Cavalry to face a _feu d'enfer_ for the salvation of their
Infantry comrades. Every soldier who knows what it is to "sit still
to be shot at" will appreciate with pride the feat of arms performed
on that morning of the 14th September 1857 by the British and Native
Cavalry Brigade under the command of the fearless and gentle Sir Hope
Grant.
So vivid is the description of this episode in the glowing pages of
Sir John Kaye that I find it difficult to resist the temptation of
transcribing it; but most of my military readers are doubtless familiar
with it; and if any have not yet read his _History of the Sepoy War in
India_, I would recommend them to lose no time in studying that deeply
interesting work. It is an imperishable tribute to the glory of our
arms, and no one who reads its narrative of the brave deeds done by
Englishmen, civilians as well as soldiers, aided by Sikhs and Gurkhas
and the few other loyal races of India during that time of supreme
stress and trial, can help feeling his heart fill with honest and
patriotic pride, and with confident hope that if ever again so fierce
a struggle should be forced on ourselves or our descendants, the old
spirit of the Anglo-Saxon race will prove true to itself.
I will not attempt to describe the various fortunes of the four columns
of assault. That story has been told once for all by Sir John Kaye; and
it is not likely that any more full or clear or correct narrative will
ever be written.
Full of triumph as we who remained outside were at the knowledge that
the Kashmiri Gate and curtain had been successfully stormed, and that
our flag was flying on the ramparts which had so long defied us,
it was yet inexpressibly mournful to witness the long procession of
"doolies" bearing the dead and wounded which streamed slowly back into
camp. Many a gallant soldier that day gave his life for the honour of
his Queen and country; but the loss that overshadowed all others was
that of the valiant Nicholson, struck down with a mortal wound in the
hour of victory while nobly exposing himself to almost certain death
in the act of cheering forward his men, who were for a moment checked
by a torrent of lead that swept the narrow lane up which they were
advancing. His memory and his example will never be lost to the British
Army, long and brilliant as is the roll of its heroes.
The strength of the four columns of assault was 3,660 men; of the
Reserve column 1,500; or a total of 5,160. Opposed to us was a fortress
"seven miles in circumference, filled with an immense fanatical
Mussalman population, garrisoned by full 40,000 soldiers armed and
disciplined by ourselves, with 114 heavy pieces of artillery mounted
on the walls, with the largest magazine of shot, shell, and ammunition
in the Upper Provinces at their disposal, besides some 60 pieces of
field artillery, all of our own manufacture, and manned by artillerymen
drilled and taught by ourselves."[5]
The casualties on our side that morning were 1,145 killed and wounded.
The result of the day's fighting was that we had forced our way into a
small corner of the City, and there "hung on by our teeth." Slight and
precarious as was the grip which we had thus obtained on the throat of
the enemy, it yet proved sufficient for eventual success; but there
can be no dispute that for the next forty-eight hours the position was
critical. The great City with its intricate network of narrow lanes
crookedly piercing through masses of lofty brick-built houses--with its
strong places such as the Magazine, the King's Palace, Selimgurh, and
the Jumma Musjid--was yet unconquered and defiant; the roar of combat
continued without ceasing. The General, Sir Archdale Wilson, worn out
with illness and want of rest, and with the strain of long-continued
anxiety, seemed to those around him to be losing heart and to be half
inclined to abandon our dearly-earned footing within the walls, and
to withdraw the troops once more to the old position outside. Worse
than all, great stores of brandy and wine which had been cunningly
left by the rebels exposed to the sight of our soldiers, fell into
their hands, and the inevitable result followed. Numbers of our men
eagerly swallowed the fiery poison; and those who had hitherto proved
themselves heroes now wallowed in the gutters, helpless and imbecile.
Most providentially the enemy did not seize upon that moment for a
vigorous onslaught. If they had done so it would probably have been
successful, and the British Empire in India would have staggered under
a crushing and shameful blow from the worst and most persistent foe
of its army, strong drink. Vigorous measures were, however, promptly
taken. Working parties, strongly officered, were told off to destroy
the bottles and empty the casks; and very soon all danger from this
source was averted.
On the 16th an important step in advance was achieved. The magazine
was taken with trifling loss; and though the small arms portion of
it had suffered seriously from the gallant exploit of Willoughby,
who had blown it up on the 11th of May, great stores of artillery
munitions were found in it. Very promptly were mortars set in position
within it to shell the Palace, which was not more than a quarter of
a mile distant. Most interesting and beautiful was it to see the big
shells, propelled by a mere spoonful of powder, issuing from their
wide throats; and, after performing a slow and graceful curve, easily
followed by the naked eye, fall within the dull red walls of the
Palace. Then would be heard a deep roar and a crash as of falling
masonry, often followed by loud yells of hurt or dismay.
The next important forward move was accomplished on the night of the
18th and early morning of the 19th, when our troops, steadily working
their way from house to house and enclosure to enclosure, succeeded in
seizing the Lahore bastion. From this moment the game was all up for
the enemy. The old King and his people had cleared out of the Palace on
the 18th, doubtless finding the place inconveniently lively, and on the
19th a general exodus from the City must have been accomplished.
Early on the morning of the 20th my Commanding Officer, Captain
Sanford, was nowhere to be found. I was told that he had last been
seen riding, followed by a single orderly, in the direction of the
City. In a moment flashed on me, with the confidence of certainty,
the thought that he must have gone on a scouting expedition into the
City, to ascertain how far the enemy had evacuated it, and that he had
not taken me, usually his inseparable companion, because he did not
wish to expose me to the risks of a certainly hare-brained exploit.
No sooner had I formed this idea than I summoned my personal orderly
and went off in search of him. When we arrived at the City my surmise
was confirmed. Sanford and his orderly had been seen riding in to the
deserted streets beyond our sentries. So we followed his example, and,
keeping an uncommonly bright look-out, started on the route which he
was said to have taken. Truly the town was abandoned. Not a living
creature did we see; but we had not gone many hundred yards before we
met Sanford, briskly trotting back, his face radiant with joy. He had
penetrated right through the City to the Delhi and Turkman gates on
the south, and had chalked "Guide Cavalry" on them. With him I rode
to the quarters of Sir Archdale Wilson, to whom he reported the fact
that the whole place was evacuated by the enemy. Whether others had
anticipated Sanford I know not; but I do not think that whatever news
may have been brought in to our Intelligence Department by native
spies, any Englishman had, before him, with his own eyes, witnessed
the fact that Delhi was at last entirely in our power. At any rate his
daring exploit was performed exactly as I have related it. Not many
months subsequently he lost his life, as will be hereafter told, while
undertaking, single-handed, a not dissimilar reconnaisance.
During the day our troops entered into full possession of the City.
All the strong points, the Palace, Selimgurh, the Jumma Musjid, the
bastions and the gates were occupied by them; and the latest, and, let
us trust, the last, siege of Delhi came to an end.
All is well that ends well. It is always easy and not always
unprofitable after an event to speculate as to what might have been the
result if a different course of action had been adopted with the view
of bringing it about. It is well known that General Barnard, yielding
to the arguments of the ardent young officers of Royal Engineers,
Greathead, Chesney, and Maunsell, aided by Hodson, had sanctioned an
attempt to take Delhi by a _coup de main_ on the morning of the 12th
of June; and that if Brigadier Graves, the field officer of the day,
had understood, or, understanding, had obeyed his instructions to
reinforce the attacking column with the 1st Fusiliers, the assault
would actually have come off. It is also known that about three weeks
afterwards the General had again all but made up his mind to risk "the
gambler's throw," when he first hesitated, and then decided to delay
a little longer; that then he died of cholera; and that General Reed,
who succeeded him, was compelled by broken health, after a few days, to
resign the command into the hands of General Archdale Wilson; and that
the latter never for a moment dreamed of doing more than holding his
own position, far less of storming Delhi, till he had been reinforced
by every available soldier that could be sent to him from the Punjab,
and by the heavy guns and mortars of the siege train from Ferozepore.
It is certainly possible that if the intended assault had been
delivered on the 12th of June it would have been successful. For my
own part I have very little doubt on the subject. The battles of the
Hindun Nuddee and of Badle-ka-Serai had severely shaken the _morale_
of the enemy; and the very audacity of so daring and so prompt an
attack by the united forces from Umballa and Meerut, each of which had,
unsupported by the other, won so signal a victory, would have struck
terror into the rebels and probably insured their defeat. On the other
hand, the prospects of success three weeks later were not so hopeful.
In the interval our numbers had not augmented, while those of the enemy
had received considerable accessions. They had materially strengthened
their defences; and had probably regained confidence in themselves.
Granting, however, that we would have succeeded in storming the walls,
and even--far harder task--in driving the enemy out of the City with
our handful of troops, would our position then have been better and
stronger than the one we held on the Ridge? Would our two thousand
bayonets have been adequate to occupy a circle of walls seven miles in
length against an army of at least forty thousand men? For it may be
presumed that as brigade after brigade and contingent after contingent
mutinied they would have rolled together and attempted the recapture of
the seat of the Moghul Empire. On the other hand, would the early fall
of Delhi have prevented the further spread of revolt, and, if so, would
that have been an unmixed good; or was it better that the full measure
of the latent disaffection should be allowed to reveal itself and be
once for all effectually stamped out? Such are the problems which will
occur to a thoughtful mind and which cannot with certainty be solved.
The story of the capture of the old King and of the slaughter of the
Princes by Hodson is too well-known to need repetition.
During the next few weeks nothing more eventful occurred within the
walls of Delhi than the doings of the prize agents--from the point
of view, at any rate, of a needy subaltern who looked to them for
the replenishment of a purse which had been well nigh emptied by the
incendiary fires at Meerut.
The first column to be detached on external operations was the one
under Colonel Greathead of the 8th King's, which moved southwards
with the view of attacking and breaking up any retreating bodies
of the enemy which it might overtake; and which, early in October,
so opportunely effected the relief of Agra, and gained so glorious
a victory over the Indore contingent and the other rebel troops
which were moving to the assault of that place. Another column under
Brigadier-General Showers was subsequently sent into the districts to
the west and north-west, and to this the Guide Cavalry was attached.
Our chief object was to punish, and, if possible, capture the Nawab of
Jhujjur; but before effecting this we moved about the country, "showing
our muscle," to use a slang phrase, and thereby dispersing stray bands
of marauders, and instilling confidence into the quietly disposed
people of the agricultural classes.
During the suppression of the Mutiny, a campaign which was unique and
unlike any other, the iron bands of discipline were, in some respects,
not so tightly drawn as usual, and many things happened which would
now be impossible. For instance, it was not at all unheard of for
an enterprising officer, with no other sanction than that of his
commanding officer, to take a small party of mounted men and start off
on the prowl in search of adventures. Very frequently he found them,
and took good care, in view of the irregularity of his proceedings,
that no report of them reached the General. On some such occasion, a
captain who was doing duty with us, and who was well-known for his
eccentricity, almost verging on insanity, his fearlessness, and his
unsparing thirst for vengeance against the mutineers, found himself,
with a squad of sixteen or twenty men, many miles from camp, in front
of the gateway of a walled enclosure, inside which were about forty
rebel sepoys who, relying on their distance from danger, had taken no
precautions against surprise, and were quietly cooking their dinner.
H---- took in the situation at once. "Halt!" he shouted in a stentorian
voice, to his men, adding in Hindustani "Only twenty men follow me into
the gate. Let the rest of the regiment remain outside." "Throw down
your arms in that corner," he roared to the terror-stricken sepoys.
"Gather together in the opposite corner, and be quick about it, or
I will slay you all." He was immediately obeyed. "Now," said he, "I
see among you a number of men older than the others, whom they have
probably led astray. Drive them out from among you, that I may destroy
them." The miserable cowards of young men instantly thrust out the
older ones, struggling and fighting for dear life: and H---- and his
party fell on them and killed them.
Then turning to the traitorous remnant, "What dirt have you eaten! Oh
children of owls!" and he "smote them also, hip and thigh."
Before utterly and unreservedly condemning this undoubtedly savage
action, I would beg the reader to remember that in this Mutiny war
no quarter was given on either side. We looked, and rightly looked,
upon the mutineers, not as honest enemies, but as foul and cruel
murderers for whom to die by the sword was too good a fate, and whose
only fit end was on the gallows. If they had confined themselves to a
revolt against the Government, and in attempting it had slaughtered
their officers and all men who tried to suppress it, they would not
have placed themselves outside the pale of mercy; but since they had
butchered our defenceless women and children, we would have been
more than human, we would have been less than men, if we had not
exterminated them as men kill snakes whenever we met them. H---- well
knew that if he did not destroy these sepoys they would destroy him.
The slightest hesitation on his part, and they would have sprung to
arms, and being caught like rats in a trap, would have fought with
the energy of despair. Their muskets against our men's swords would
have given their superior numbers a decisive advantage. We should
undoubtedly have lost several men, and would probably have been driven
back. From this nothing but the prompt and clever strategy adopted
by H---- saved his party. With all this, it is impossible to avoid a
feeling of regret that this incident should have occurred.