by a number of ruffians who had crossed over the Ganges from Oude, made
a more determined effort than ever to capture the intrenchment; they had
made the subadar-major of the 1st N. I. a sort of general over them; and
he swore to vanquish the weakened garrison, or die in the attempt. They
brought large bales of cotton, which they rolled along the ground, and
approached in a crouching position under cover of these bales, firing
their muskets at intervals. About a hundred sepoys thus advanced within
a hundred and fifty yards of the intrenchment, backed up by a strong
body, who seemed bent on storming the position. In this, as in every
former attempt, they failed; their leader was struck down, nearly two
hundred were killed or wounded by a fire of grape-shot, and the rest
driven back to their former distance. At the very same time, contests
were maintained on all sides of the enclosure; for what with musketeers
in the unfinished barracks, guns and mortars in four different
directions, and rifle-pits approached under cover of zigzags, the rebels
maintained a tremendous fire upon the besieged. Wheeler’s guns, under a
gallant young officer, St George Ashe, were manned at all hours, loaded
and fired with great quickness and precision, and pointed in such
directions as might produce most mischief among the enemy. But the
contest was unequal in this as in most other particulars; one gun after
another was disabled by the more powerful artillery of the
insurgents—until the eight were reduced to six, then to four, three, and
at last two. As the forlorn garrison became weaker and weaker, so did
the heroic men redouble their exertions in defence. One day a shot from
the enemy blew up an ammunition-wagon within the intrenchment; and then
it became a question of terrible import how to prevent the other wagons
from being ignited. Lieutenant Delafosse, a young officer of the once
trusted but now disloyal 53d, ran forward, laid himself down under the
wagons, picked up and threw aside the burning fragments, and covered the
flaming portions with handfuls of earth—all the while subject to a
fearful cannonading from a battery of six guns, aimed purposely by the
enemy at that spot! Two soldiers ran to him, with two buckets of water;
and all three succeeded in rescuing the other ammunition-wagons from
peril, and in returning from the dangerous spot in safety.
Unspeakable must have been the misery of those nine hundred persons—or
rather, nine hundred wofully diminished by deaths—after twenty days of
this besieging. The hospitals were so thoroughly riddled with shot, and
so much injured by the fire, as to afford little or no shelter; and yet
the greater portion of the non-combatants remained in them rather than
be exposed to the scorching glare of the sun outside. Some made holes
for themselves behind the earthen parapet that bounded the intrenchment;
these holes were covered with boxes, cots, &c., and whole families of
wretched beings resided in them—more after the fashion of the Bushmen of
Africa, than of Christian civilised people. Apoplexy struck down many in
these fearfully heated abodes. At night, all the men had to mount guard
and keep watch in turn; and the women and children, to be near their
male protectors in the hour of trouble, slept near them behind the
parapet—or rather they tried to sleep; but the bomb-shells vomited forth
from three mortars employed by the enemy, kept the terrified people in
an agony that ‘murdered sleep;’ and thus the existence of the women and
children was spent in perpetual fear. The soldiers had their food
prepared by the few remaining cooks; but all the rest shifted for
themselves in the best way they could; and it was often difficult, for
those who received their scanty rations of rice and grain, to provide a
mouthful of cooked victuals for themselves and their children. Money
would hardly, one would suppose, be thought of at such a time and place;
yet it appears that the richer bought with money the services of the
poorer, at a rupee or two per meal, for cooking. The innumerable
troubles and distresses felt by all were deepened at the sight of the
sick and wounded, to whom it was now utterly impossible to render proper
assistance. The stench, too, from the dead bodies of horses and other
animals that had been shot in the enclosure and could not be removed,
added to the loathsomeness of the place. Oppressed as they were with
heat, the English nevertheless dreaded the setting in of the rains; for
one single day of Indian rain would have converted the earthen abodes of
the poor people into pools of water, deluged the shot-riddled buildings,
and rendered the muskets useless. Nothing can better denote the
extraordinary scene of ruin and devastation which the interior of the
intrenchment must have presented, than the descriptions given a few
weeks afterwards by English officers concerned in the recovery of
Cawnpore. Or rather, it would be more correct to say, that those
descriptions, by relating only to the intrenchment when deserted,
necessarily fell far short of the reality as presented when many
hundreds of suffering persons were residing there day after day. One
officer wrote: ‘We are encamped close to poor old Wheeler’s miserable
intrenchment. Of all the wonders which have passed before us since this
outbreak commenced, the most wonderful is that this ruinous intrenchment
should have held that horde of blood-thirsty ruffians off so long. This
is a strong statement; but none who have visited it can call it too
strong.’ Another said: ‘I have had a look at the barracks in which the
unfortunate people were intrenched. They consist of a couple of oblong
buildings; in one of them, the roof is completely fallen in; and both
are battered with round shot. The verandahs as well as the walls have
been torn up by the shot; and round the buildings are some pits dug in
the ground, and breastworks. The ground inside and out is strewed with
broken bottles, old shoes, and quantities of books and other documents
and letters. It was a melancholy sight; and the suffering must have been
more than humanity could bear.’ A third officer corroborated this
general description, but mentioned one or two additional particulars:
‘These buildings formed what was called the European Cavalry Hospital.
Right well and heroically must it have been defended. The walls are
riddled with cannon-shot like the cells of a honey-comb. The doors,
which seem to have been the principal points against which the Nena’s
fire was directed, are breached and knocked into large shapeless
openings. Of the verandahs, which surrounded both buildings, only a few
splintered rafters remain, and at some of the angles the walls are
knocked entirely away, and large chasms gape blackly at you. Many of the
enemy’s cannon-shot have gone through and through the buildings;
portions of the interior walls and roof have fallen; and here and there
are blood-stains on wall and floor. Never did I yet see a place so
terribly battered.’
As a sad story is often most touchingly told in the fewest words, we may
here advert to the contents of two scraps of paper, shewing how the
members of a family were cut off one by one during these days of misery.
When Cawnpore fell again into the hands of the British, by a train of
operations hereafter to be described, there were found among other
wrecks two small pieces of paper, covered with blood, and containing a
few words in pencil; they appeared to have been written by two persons,
both females. One gave a brief and confused narrative of some of the
events in the intrenchment; while the other consisted simply of a record
of the dates on which members of the writer’s family were struck down by
the hand of death.[18] The dates were irregular, and extended into July;
but every line told, in its simplicity, how agonising must have been the
position of one who had to record such things of those who were dear to
her. The contents of the two pieces of paper were printed in a Calcutta
journal; and when the mournful tale reached Scotland, it was at once
concluded, almost as a certainty, from the Christian names mentioned,
that the sufferers were all members of a family of Lindsays, who had
been stationed at Cawnpore. The writers of the two notes were themselves
numbered with the dead before the gloomy tragedy was ended.
All these evidences render only too plain to us the deplorable position
of the Europeans, after eighteen days of siege, and thirty-three of
enforced residence in the intrenchment. When duly considered, who can
wonder that the beleaguered garrison pondered on two possible
contingencies—a defeat of the rebels by a daring sally, or a release by
parley? If the officers could have known the treachery which was about
to be practised on them, they would probably have attempted the former;
but they could receive no intelligence or warning, and they did not like
to quit their wives and children at such a perilous time, in uncertainty
of their chances of success.
Their first knowledge of the state of affairs at Cawnpore was obtained
in an unexpected way. Among the commercial firms in the city was that of
Greenway Brothers, of which the members and the family had hastily left
Cawnpore at the beginning of the troubles, and taken refuge at
Nujjubgurh, a village about sixteen miles distant. They were discovered
by Nena Sahib, however, and only saved from death by promising a ransom
of a lac of rupees. Mrs Greenway, a very aged lady, the mother and
grandmother of a number of the sufferers, was sent by this treacherous
villain with a message to Sir Hugh Wheeler at the intrenchment, intended
to mask a nefarious and bloody scheme. The message was to this
effect—that the general and all his people should be allowed to proceed
to Allahabad unmolested, on condition that he abandoned Cawnpore, the
intrenchment, the public treasure, the guns, and the ammunition. This
message was delivered on the 24th of June; but whether in consequence of
Mr Shepherd’s adventure on that same day, presently to be mentioned,
does not clearly appear. On the next day an interview took place,
outside the intrenchment, between Sir Hugh and an agent of Nena named
Azimoollah (probably the same who had visited London two years before),
who was accompanied by a few of the leading mutineers. The terms were
agreed to, with a few modifications; and Nena Sahib gave his signature,
his seal, and his oath to a contract binding him to provide the
Europeans with boats and a safe escort to Allahabad.
Such was the account given by Mr Shepherd of a transaction narrated
somewhat differently by other persons; but before noticing certain
anomalies in this matter, it will be well to treat of an occurrence in
which that gentleman was unquestionably the best judge of the facts.
When the 24th of June arrived, Mr Shepherd adopted a course which led to
his own preservation, and enabled him to write his brief but mournful
narrative. The besieged civilians, not being under the command of Sir
Hugh Wheeler further than might be consistent with their own safety,
naturally thought with yearning hearts of their former abodes in the
city, and compared those abodes with the present deep misery and
privation. Wheeler would gladly have allowed them to return to Cawnpore;
but could they cross the intervening ground in safety, or would they
find safety in the city itself? To ascertain these points, was a project
adopted on the suggestion of Mr Shepherd, who—as a commissariat officer
in a place where scarcely any commissariat services could be
rendered—occupied a position somewhat midway between the military and
the civil. He had a large family within the intrenchment, comprising his
wife, daughter, brother, sister, three nieces, and two other relatives;
an infant daughter had been killed by a musket-shot a few days earlier.
Mr Shepherd’s mission was—to make his way to the city; to ascertain the
state of public affairs there; to enter into negotiations with
influential persons who were not friendly to the mutineers; and to spend
or promise a lac of rupees in any way that might bring about a cessation
of the siege. The arrangement made with Sir Hugh was, that if Mr
Shepherd succeeded in returning to the intrenchment with any useful
information, he should be allowed to go with his family to Cawnpore. He
started; but he never returned, and never again saw those hapless beings
whose welfare had occupied so much of his solicitude. He disguised
himself as a native cook, left the intrenchment, passed near the new
barracks, and ran on towards Cawnpore; but he was speedily descried and
captured, and carried before Nena Sahib. Two native women-servants had
shortly before escaped from the intrenchment to the city, and had
reported that the garrison was starving; the new captive, designedly,
gave a very different account; and as the Nena did not know which to
believe, he imprisoned all three. Mr Shepherd remained in prison,
suffering great hardships, from the 24th of June to the 17th of July, as
we shall presently see.
It is not easy to reconcile the various accounts of the convention
between the besiegers and the besieged, the Nena and the general.
According to Mr Shepherd, as we have just seen, the Nena sent a message
by Mrs Greenway on the 24th; and Sir Hugh had an interview with one of
Nena’s agents on the 25th. An ayah, or native nurse, however, who had
been in the service of Mrs Greenway, and who afterwards gave a narrative
in evidence before some English officers at Cawnpore, said that the
message was taken, not by Mrs Greenway, but by a Mrs Jacobi. She
proceeded to aver that Nena Sahib himself went to the intrenchment; and
then she gave a curious account of the interview, which, to say the
least of it, is quite consistent with the relative characters and
positions of the two leaders. According to her narrative: ‘The Nena
said: “Take away all the women and children to Allahabad; and if your
men want to fight, come back and do so: we will keep faith with you.”
General Wheeler said: “You take your solemn oath, according to your
custom; and I will take an oath on my Bible, and will leave the
intrenchment.” The Nena said: “Our oath is, that whoever we take by the
hand, and he relies on us, we never deceive; if we do, God will judge
and punish us.” The general said: “If you intend to deceive me, kill me
at once: I have no arms.” The Nena replied: “I will not deceive you;
rely on us. I will supply you with food, and convey you to Allahabad.”
On this the general went inside the intrenchment, and consulted with the
soldiers. They said: “There’s no reliance to be placed on natives; they
will deceive you.” A few said: “Trust them; it is better to do so.” On
this the general returned, and said: “I agree to your terms; see us away
as far as Futtehpoor, thence we can get easily to Allahabad.” The reply
was: “No; I will see you all safe to Allahabad.”’
That Sir Hugh Wheeler was mortally wounded before his unfortunate
companions left the intrenchment under a solemn pledge of safety, seems
to be generally admitted, but the date of his death is not clearly
known; nor do the narrators agree as to the names of the persons by whom
the convention was signed. But on the main point all evidence
coincides—that a safe retirement to Allahabad was guaranteed. How
villainously that guarantee was disregarded, we shall now see.
It was on the 27th of June that those who remained of the nine hundred
took their departure from the intrenchment where they had borne so many
miseries. Collateral facts lead to a conjecture that the sepoys,
belonging to the native regiments that had mutinied, had become wearied
with their three-weeks’ detention outside the intrenchment, and wished
to start off to a scene of more stirring incidents at Delhi. This would
not have suited the Nena’s views; he wanted their aid to grasp the
remainder of the Company’s treasure and ammunition at Cawnpore; and
hence he formed the plan for getting rid of the Europeans and obtaining
their wealth without any more fighting. Cannonading ceased on both sides
from the evening of the 24th; and from thence to the 27th all was done
that could be done to fit out the boat-expedition. But under what
miserable circumstances was this done! The unburied bodies of relations
and friends lay at the bottom of a well; the sick and wounded were more
fit to die than to be removed; the women and children had become haggard
and weak by almost every kind of suffering; the clothes of all had
become rent and blood-stained by many a terrible exigency; and
misgivings occupied the thoughts of those who remembered that the same
Nena Sahib, at whose mercy they were now placed, was the man who had
proved a traitor three weeks before. Twenty boats were provided, each
with an awning. The English were forced to give up the three or four
lacs of rupees which had been brought to the intrenchment. Early on the
morning of the 27th, the Nena sent a number of elephants, carts, and
doolies, to convey the women, children, sick, and wounded, to the
river-side, a distance of about a mile and a half: the hale men
proceeding on foot—if hale they can be called, who were worn down with
hunger, thirst, fatigue, heat, grief for the dear ones who had fallen,
anxiety for those who still lived to be succoured and protected. If Mr
Shepherd is right in his statement that the number who took their
departure in this mournful procession from the intrenchment was four
hundred and fifty, then one half of the original number of nine hundred
must have fallen victims to three weeks of privation and suffering.
Those who first reached the river took boat, and proceeded down-stream;
but the later comers were long detained; and while they were still
embarking, or preparing to embark, they were startled by the report of a
masked battery of three guns. The dreadful truth now became evident; the
execrable rebel-chief, in disregard of all oaths and treaties, had given
orders for the slaughter of the hapless Europeans. Some of the boats
were set on fire, and volley upon volley of musketry fired at the
unfortunates—scores of whom were shot dead, others picked off while
endeavouring to swim away. A few boats were hastily rowed across the
river; but there a body of the 17th N. I., just arrived from Azimghur,
intercepted all escape. The ruffians on both banks waded into the water,
seized the boats within reach, and sabred all the men yet remaining
alive in them. The women were spared for a worse fate; though many of
them wounded, some with two or three bullets each, these poor creatures,
with the children, were taken ashore, and placed in a building called
the Subadar Kothee, in Nena Sahib’s camp.
The fortunes of two separate boat-parties must be traced. Lieutenant
Delafosse, whose name has already been mentioned in connection with a
gallant achievement in the intrenchment, has placed upon record the
story of one boat’s adventure, shewing how it happened that he was among
the very few who escaped the Cawnpore tragedy. After stating that nearly
all the boats which attempted to descend the Ganges were either stopped
one by one, or the persons in them shot down where they sat, he proceeds
thus: ‘We had now one boat, crowded with wounded, and having on board
more than she could carry. Two guns followed us the whole of that day,
the infantry firing on us the whole of that night. On the second day,
28th June, a gun was seen on the Cawnpore side, which opened on us at
Nujjubgurh, the infantry still following us on both sides. On the
morning of the third day, the boat was no longer serviceable; we were
aground on a sand-bank, and had not strength sufficient to move her.
Directly any of us got into the water, we were fired upon by thirty or
forty men at a time. There was nothing left for us but to charge and
drive them away; and fourteen of us were told off to do what we could.
Directly we got on shore the insurgents retired; but, having followed
them up too far, we were cut off from the river, and had to retire
ourselves, as we were being surrounded. We could not make for the river;
we had to go down parallel, and came to the river again a mile lower
down, where we saw a large force of men right in front waiting for us,
and another lot on the opposite bank, should we attempt to cross the
river. On the bank of the river, just by the force in front, was a
temple. We fired a volley, and made for the temple, in which we took
shelter, having one man killed and one wounded. From the door of the
temple we fired on every insurgent that happened to shew himself.
Finding that they could do nothing against us whilst we remained inside,
they heaped wood all round and set it on fire. When we could no longer
remain inside on account of the smoke and heat, we threw off what
clothes we had, and, each taking a musket, charged through the fire.
Seven of us out of the twelve got into the water; but before we had gone
far, two poor fellows were shot. There were only five of us left now;
and we had to swim whilst the insurgents followed us along both banks,
wading and firing as fast as they could. After we had gone three miles
down the stream [probably swimming and wading by turns], one of our
party, an artilleryman, to rest himself, began swimming on his back, and
not knowing in what direction he was swimming, got on shore, and was
killed. When we had got down about six miles, firing from both sides [of
the river] ceased; and soon after we were hailed by some natives, on the
Oude side, who asked us to come on shore, and said they would take us to
their rajah, who was friendly to the English.’ This proved to be the
case; for Lieutenant Delafosse, Lieutenant Mowbray Thomson, and one or
two companions, remained in security and comparative comfort throughout
the month of July, until an opportunity occurred for joining an English
force.
Although the boat-adventure just narrated was full of painful
excitement, ending in the death of nearly all the persons by shooting or
drowning—yet there is one still to be noticed more saddening in its
character, for the sufferers were reserved for a worse death. The name
of Sir Hugh Wheeler is connected with this adventure in a way not easily
to be accounted for; Mr Shepherd and Lieutenant Delafosse were not
witnesses of it, and no reliable personal narrative is obtainable from
any one who was actually present when it occurred. The probability is,
that Sir Hugh, although wounded in the intrenchment, did not die until
the boat-expedition had commenced, and that the same boat contained his
daughter and his (living or dead) body. At anyrate, this was the last
the world could hear of a brave old soldier, who went to India
fifty-four years before; who fought with Lord Lake before Delhi in 1804;
who took an active part in the Punjaub war; and who had been military
commander of the Cawnpore district from 1850 to 1857. It was also the
last to be heard of Brigadier Jack, who commanded the Cawnpore
cantonment; and of many brave English officers, from colonels down to
ensigns, of both the English and the native regiments.
Whether the general was alive or dead, and by whomsoever accompanied, it
appears certain that a large party rowed many miles down the Ganges. One
account states that Baboo Rambuksh, a zemindar of Dowreea Kheyra near
Futtehpoor, stopped the boats, captured the persons who were in them,
and sent them in carts as prisoners back to Cawnpore. The names of Mr
Reid, Mr Thomas Greenway, Mr Kirkpatrick, Mr Mackenzie, Captain
Mackenzie, and Dr Harris, were mentioned in connection with this band of
unfortunates; but accuracy in this particular is not to be insured. The
narrative given by Nujoor Jewarree, the native afterwards examined by
English officers at Cawnpore, was different in many points, and much
more detailed. He stated that the boat in question, after proceeding
some distance, got upon a sand-bank, where there was a severe encounter;
the sepoys not only ran along the shore, but followed in boats shooting
at the victims as soon as they got within musket-range, and receiving
many fatal shots in return. A freshet in the river released the boat,
and the voyage recommenced. Meanwhile, the probable escape of this party
being reported to Nena Sahib, he ordered three companies of the 3d Oude
infantry to pursue the boat, and effect a complete capture. The boat was
soon after taken, and all the occupants seized as prisoners. ‘There came
out of that boat,’ said Nujoor Jewarree, ‘sixty sahibs (gentlemen),
twenty-five memsahibs (ladies), and four children—one boy and three
half-grown girls.’ His story then proceeded to details which, if
correct, shew that Sir Hugh Wheeler was in the boat, and still alive;
for a contest ensued between Nena and some of the soldiers whether or
not the old general should be put to death: many of the sepoys wishing
to preserve his life.
It will become apparent to the reader, from the nature of the above
details, that the true story of the boat-catastrophe at Cawnpore will
probably never be fully told. All that we positively know is, that one
portion of the wretched victims met their death in the river, by
muskets, swords, and drowning; and that two other portions were carried
back to a captivity worse even than that of the intrenchment.
The proceedings of Nena Sahib, after the iniquitous treachery of the
27th of June, bore evident relation to his own advancement as an
independent chieftain. At sunset on that day he held a review of all the
rebel troops around Cawnpore on a plain between the now deserted
intrenchment and the Ganges. They appear to have consisted of five
regiments of Bengal native infantry, two of Oude native infantry, one of
Bengal cavalry, two of Oude cavalry, two of irregular cavalry, a battery
of field-guns, besides sundry detachments of regiments, and marauders
who became temporary soldiers in the hope of sharing pillage. Guns were
fired in honour of the Nena as sovereign, of his brother as
governor-general, and of an ambitious Brahmin as commander-in-chief, of
the newly restored Mahratta kingdom. From day to day more troops joined
his standard, after mutinying at various stations on all sides of
Cawnpore. Twenty thousand armed men are said to have been in that city
by the 10th of July; and as the Nena was very slow in awarding to them
any of his ill-gotten wealth, they recompensed themselves by plundering
the inhabitants, under pretext of searching for concealed Europeans.
Cawnpore was thus plunged into great misery, and speedily had cause to
lament the absence of its former masters. Nena created new offices, for
bestowal upon those who had served him; and he ordered the neighbouring
zemindars to pay to him the revenue that had wont to be paid to the
Company. He caused to be proclaimed by beat of tom-tom, throughout
Cawnpore and the surrounding district, that he had entirely conquered
the British; and that, their period of reign in India having been
completed, he was preparing to drive them out foot by foot. During this
heyday of self-assumed power, he issued many remarkable proclamations,
worthy of note as indications of his ambitious views, of his hopes as
dependent on the mass of the native people, and of the stigma which he
sought to throw on the British government. Some of these proclamations
are given in full at the end of the present chapter. There are many
facts which lend support to the supposition that this grasp at power and
wealth was suggested to him by the gradual development of events. He
probably entertained crafty designs and suppressed vindictiveness from
the outset; but these did not shew themselves openly until the native
troops at the cantonment had rebelled. Seeing a door opened by others,
which might possibly lead him to power and to vengeance, he seized the
occasion and entered.
The last acts of the Cawnpore tragedy now await our attention.
What horrors the poor women suffered during their eighteen days of
captivity under this detestable miscreant, none will ever fully know;
partial glimpses only of the truth will ever come to light. According to
the ayah’s narrative, already noticed, the women and children who were
conveyed from the boats into captivity were a hundred and fifteen in
number. The poor creatures (the women and elder girls) were sought to be
tempted by an emissary of the Nena to enter quietly into his harem; but
they one and all expressed a determination to die where they were, and
with each other, rather than yield to dishonour. They were then destined
to be given up to the sensual licence of the sepoys and sowars who had
aided in their capture; but the heroic conduct of Sir Hugh Wheeler’s
daughter is said to have deterred the ruffians. What this ‘Judith of
Cawnpore’ really did, is differently reported. Her heroism was
manifested, in one version of the story, by an undaunted and indignant
reproach against the native troops for their treachery to the English
who had fed and clothed them, and for their cowardice in molesting
defenceless women; in another version, she shot down five sepoys in
succession with a revolver, and then threw herself into a well to escape
outrage; in a third, given by Mr Shepherd, this English lady, being
taken away by a trooper of the 2d native cavalry to his own hut, rose in
the night, secured the trooper’s sword, killed him and three other men,
and then threw herself into a well; while a fourth version, on the
authority of the ayah, represents the general’s daughter as cutting off
the heads of no less than five men in the trooper’s hut. These accounts,
incompatible one with another, nevertheless reveal to us a true
soldier’s daughter, an English gentlewoman, resolved to proceed to any
extremity in defence of her own purity.
The victims were detained three days at Nena’s camp, with only a little
parched grain to eat, dirty water to drink, and the hard ground to lie
upon, without matting or beds of any kind. The ayah states that the
Nena, after the events of the 27th of June, sent to ask the temporarily
successful King of Delhi what he should do with the women and children;
to which a reply was received, that they were not to be killed. Whether
this statement be right or wrong, the captives were taken from the camp
to Cawnpore, and there incarcerated in a house near the Assembly Rooms,
consisting of outbuildings of the medical depôt, shortly before occupied
by Sir George Parker. Here they were joined by more than thirty other
European women and children, the unhappy relics of the boat-expedition
that had been recaptured near Futtehpoor in the vain attempt to escape.
Without venturing to decide whether the ayah, Nujoor Jewarree, Mr
Shepherd, or Lieutenant Delafosse was most nearly correct in regard of
numbers; or whether Sir Hugh Wheeler was at that time alive or dead—it
appears tolerably certain that many unhappy prisoners were brought back
into Cawnpore on the 1st of July. All the men were butchered in cold
blood on the evening of the same day. One officer’s wife, with her
child, clung to her husband with such desperate tenacity that they could
not be separated; and all three were killed at once. The other women
were spared for the time. This new influx, together with five members of
the Greenway family, swelled the roll of prisoners in the small building
to a number that has been variously estimated from a hundred and fifty
to two hundred, nearly all women and children. Their diet was miserably
insufficient; and their sufferings were such that many died through want
of the necessaries of life. ‘It is not easy to describe,’ says Mr
Shepherd, ‘but it may be imagined, the misery of so many helpless
persons: some wounded, others sick, and all labouring under the greatest
agony of heart for the loss of those, so dear to them, who had so
recently been killed (perhaps before their own eyes); cooped up night
and day in a small low pukha-roofed house, in the hottest season of the
year, without beds or punkahs, for a whole fortnight—and constantly
reviled and insulted by a set of brutish ruffians keeping watch over
them.’
Added to all these suffering women and children, were those belonging to
the second boat-expedition from Futteghur. It will be remembered, from
the details given in a former page, that one party from this fort
reached Bithoor about the middle of June, and were at once murdered by
orders of Nena Sahib; while another body, after a manly struggle against
the rebels for two or three weeks, did not prosecute their voyage
downwards until July. It will throw light on the perils and terrors of
these several boat-adventures to transcribe a few sentences from an
official account by Mr G. J. Jones, a civil servant of the Company, who
left Futteghur with the rest on the 4th of July, but happily kept clear
of the particular boat-load which went down to Cawnpore: ‘We had not
proceeded far, when it was found that Colonel Goldie’s boat was much too
large and heavy for us to manage; it was accordingly determined to be
abandoned; so all the ladies and children were taken into Colonel
Smith’s boat. A little delay was thus caused, which the sepoys took
advantage of to bring a gun to bear on the boats; the distance, however,
was too great; every ball fell short. As soon as the ladies and children
were all safely on board, we started, and got down as far as
Singheerampore without accident, although fired upon by the villagers.
Here we stopped a few minutes to repair the rudder of Colonel Smith’s
boat; and one out of the two boatmen we had was killed by a matchlock
ball. The rudder repaired, we started again, Colonel Smith’s boat taking
the lead; we had not gone beyond a few yards, when our boat grounded on
a soft muddy sand-bank; the other boat passed on; all hands got into the
water to push her; but, notwithstanding all our efforts, we could not
manage to move her. We had not been in this unhappy position half an
hour, when two boats, apparently empty, were seen coming down the
stream. They came within twenty yards of us, when we discovered they
carried sepoys, who opened a heavy fire, killing and wounding several.
Mr Churcher, senior, was shot through the chest; Mr Fisher, who was just
behind me, was wounded in the thigh. Hearing him call out, I had
scarcely time to turn round, when I felt a smart blow on my right
shoulder; a bullet had grazed the skin and taken off a little of the
flesh. Major Robertson was wounded in the face. The boats were now
alongside of us. Some of the sepoys had already got into our boat. Major
Robertson, seeing no hope, begged the ladies to come into the water
rather than fall into their hands. While the ladies were throwing
themselves into the water, I jumped into the boat, took up a loaded
musket, and, going astern, shot a sepoy.... Mr and Mrs Fisher were about
twenty yards from the boat; he had his child in his arms, apparently
lifeless. Mrs Fisher could not stand against the current; her dress,
which acted like a sail, knocked her down, when she was helped up by Mr
Fisher.... Early the next morning a voice hailed us from the shore,
which we recognised as Mr Fisher’s. He came on board, and informed us
that his poor wife and child had been drowned in his arms.’
The occupants of the boat that prosecuted the voyage down to Cawnpore,
or rather Bithoor, suffered greatly: the hands of the gentlemen who were
on board, and who pulled the boat, were terribly blistered; the women
and children suffered sad hardships; and all were worn down by fatigue
and anxiety. At Bithoor, so far as the accounts are intelligible, Nena
Sahib’s son seized the boat, and sent all the unfortunate Europeans in
her into confinement at Cawnpore. As in other parts of this mournful
tragedy, it will be vain to attempt accuracy in the statement of the
numbers of those that suffered; but there is a subsidiary source of
information, possessing a good deal of interest in connection with the
July occurrences. When, at a later date, the reconquerors of Cawnpore
were in a position to attempt a solution of the terrible mystery; when
the buildings of Cawnpore were searched, and the inhabitants examined,
for any documents relating to the suffering Europeans—a paper was found,
written in the Mahratta language, in the house of a native doctor who
had been in charge of the prisoners, or some of them. It was, or
professed to be, a list of those who were placed under his care on
Tuesday the 7th of July; but whether invalids only, does not clearly
appear. All the names were given, with some inaccuracy in spelling;
which, however, cannot be considered as rendering the document
untrustworthy. In it were to be found large families of Greenways,
Reids, Jacobis, Fitzgeralds, Dempsters, and others known to have been in
Cawnpore about that time. They were a hundred and sixty-three in number.
To this hapless group was added another list, containing the names of
forty-seven fugitives belonging to the _second_ boat-party from
Futteghur, who are reported as having arrived on the 11th of July, and
who included many members of the families of the Goldies, Smiths,
Tuckers, Heathcotes, &c., already named in connection with the Futteghur
calamities. The Mahratta document gave altogether the names of two
hundred and ten persons; but it was silent on the question how many
other Europeans were on those days in the clutches of the ruthless
chieftain of Bithoor. A further list contained the names of about
twenty-six persons, apparently all women and children, who died under
this native doctor’s hands between the 7th and the 15th, diminishing to
that extent the number of those left for massacre. To most of the names
‘cholera,’ or ‘diarrhœa,’ or ‘dysentery’ was appended, as the cause of
death; to two names, ‘wounds;’ while one of the patients was ‘a baby two
days old.’ In what a place, and under what circumstances, for an infant
to be born, and to bear its two wretched days of life!
[Illustration:
House at Cawnpore in which the women and children were massacred.
]
Let us follow Mr Shepherd’s two narratives—one public, for government
information; one in a letter, relating more especially to his own
personal troubles and sufferings—concerning the crowning iniquity of
Nena Sahib at Cawnpore.
After his capture, on attempting to hasten from the intrenchment to the
city, the commissary was subjected to a sort of mock-trial, and
condemned to three years’ imprisonment with hard labour; on what plea or
evidence, is not stated. He implies that if he had been known as an
Englishman, he would certainly have been put to death. On the third day
after his capture he heard a rumour of certain movements among his
unfortunate compatriots in the intrenchment. ‘Oh! how I felt,’ he
exclaims, ‘when, in confinement, I heard that the English were going in
safety! I could not keep my secret, but told the subadar of the
prison-guard that I was a Christian; I nearly lost my life by this
exposure.’ Mr Shepherd was confined for twenty-four days in a miserable
prison, with heavy fetters on his legs, and only so much parched grain
for food as would prevent actual starvation. As days wore on, he
obtained dismal evidence that the departure from the intrenchment had
not been safely effected; that coward treachery had been displayed by
the Nena; that innocent lives had been taken; and that the survivors
were held in horrible thraldom by that cruel man. The commissary was a
prisoner within the city during all the later days of the tragedy;
whether he was within earshot of the sufferers, is not stated; but the
following contains portions of his narrative relating to that period:
‘Certain spies, whether real or imaginary is not known, were brought to
the Nena as being the bearers of letters supposed to have been written
to the British [at Allahabad] by the helpless females in their
captivity; and with these letters some of the inhabitants of the city
were believed to be implicated. It was therefore decreed by Nena Sahib
that the spies, together with all the women and children, as also the
few gentlemen whose lives had been spared, should be put to death.’ Mr
Shepherd connected these gentlemen with the Futteghur fugitives,
concerning whom, however, he possessed very little information. It was a
further portion of Nena’s decree, that all the baboos (Bengalees
employed as clerks) of the city, and every individual who could read or
write English, should have their right hands and noses cut off. At
length, on the 15th, just before quitting Cawnpore in the vain hope of
checking the advance of a British column, this savage put his decrees
into execution. ‘The native spies were first put to the sword; after
them the gentlemen, who were brought from the outbuildings in which they
had been confined, and shot with bullets. Then the poor females were
ordered to come out; but neither threats nor persuasions could induce
them to do so. They laid hold of each other by dozens, and clung so
closely that it was impossible to separate or drag them out of the
building. The troopers therefore brought muskets, and after firing a
great many shots through the doors, windows, &c., rushed in with swords
and bayonets. Some of the helpless creatures in their agony fell down at
the feet of their murderers, and begged them in the most pitiful manner
to spare their lives; but to no purpose. The fearful deed was done
deliberately and determinedly, in the midst of the most dreadful shrieks
and cries of the victims. From a little before sunset till dark was
occupied in completing the dreadful deed. The doors of the buildings
were then locked for the night, and the murderers went to their homes.
Next morning it was found, on opening the doors, that some ten or
fifteen females, with a few of the children, had managed to escape from
death by hiding under the murdered bodies of their fellow-prisoners. A
fresh command was thereupon sent to murder these also; but the survivors
not being able to bear the idea of being cut down, rushed out into the
compound, and seeing a well there, threw themselves into it. The dead
bodies of those murdered on the previous evening were then ordered to be
thrown into the same well; and julluds were appointed to drag them away
like dogs.’
Mr Shepherd himself did not witness this slaughter; no looker-on, so far
as is known, has placed upon record his or her account of the scene. Nor
does there appear any trustworthy evidence to shew what the poor women
endured in the period, varying from four to eighteen days, during which
they were in the Nena’s power; but the probability is fearfully great
that they passed through an ordeal which the mind almost shrinks from
contemplating. Mr Shepherd was evidently of this opinion. While telling
his tale of misery relating to those poor ill-used creatures, he hinted
at ‘sufferings and distresses such as have never before been experienced
or heard of on the face of the earth.’ It was in his agony of grief that
he wrote this; when, on the 17th of July, a victorious English column
entered Cawnpore; and when, immediately on his liberation, he hastened
like others to the house of slaughter. Only when the manacles had been
struck from his limbs, and he had become once more a free man, did he
learn the full bitterness of his lot. ‘God Almighty has been graciously
pleased to spare my poor life,’ was the beginning of a letter written by
him on that day to a brother stationed at Agra. ‘I am the only
individual saved among all the European and Christian community that
inhabited this station.’ [Nearly but not exactly true.] ‘My poor dear
wife, my darling sweet child Polly, poor dear Rebecca and her children,
and poor innocent children Emmeline and Martha, as also Mrs Frost and
poor Mrs Osborne’ [these being the members of his family whom he had
left in the intrenchment on the 24th of June, when he set out disguised
on his fruitless mission], ‘were all most inhumanly butchered by the
cruel insurgents on the day before yesterday;’ and his letter then
conveyed the outpourings of a heart almost riven by such irreparable
losses.
While reserving for a future chapter all notice of the brilliant
military movements by which a small band of heroes forced a way inch by
inch from Allahabad to Cawnpore; and of the struggle made by the Nena,
passionately but ineffectually, to maintain his ill-gotten honours as a
self-elected Mahratta sovereign—it may nevertheless be well in this
place to follow the story of the massacre to its close—to know how much
was left, and of what kind, calculated to render still more vividly
evident the fate of the victims.
Never, while life endures, will the English officers and soldiers forget
the sight which met their gaze when they entered Cawnpore on the 17th of
July. It was frequently observed that all were alike deeply moved by the
atrocities that came to light in many parts of Northern India. Calcutta,
weeks and even months afterwards, contained ladies who had escaped from
various towns and stations, and who entered the Anglo-Indian capital in
most deplorable condition: ears, noses, lips, tongues, hands, cut off;
while others had suffered such monstrous and incredibly degrading
barbarities, that they resolutely refused all identification, preferring
to remain in nameless obscurity, rather than their humiliation should be
known to their friends in England. Their children, in many instances,
had their eyes gouged out, and their feet cut off. Many were taken to
Calcutta in such hurry and confusion, that it remained long in doubt
from what places they had escaped; and an instance is recorded of a
little child, who belonged no one knew to whom, and whose only account
of herself was that she was ‘Mamma’s pet:’ mournfully touching words,
telling of a gentle rearing and a once happy home. An officer in command
of one of the English regiments, speaking of the effect produced on his
men by the sights and rumours of fiend-like cruelty, observed: ‘Very
little is said among the men or officers, the subject being too
maddening; but there is a curious expression discernible in every face
when it is mentioned—a stern compression of the lips, and a fierce
glance of the eye, which shew that when the time comes, no mercy will be
shewn to those who have shewn none.’ He told of fearful deeds; of two
little children tortured to death, and portions of their quivering flesh
forced down the throats of their parents, who were tied up naked, and
had been compelled to witness the slaughter of their innocent ones. The
feelings of those who were not actually present at the scenes of horror
are well expressed in a letter written by a Scottish officer, who was
hemmed in at Agra during many weeks, when he longed to be engaged in
active service chastising the rebels. He had, some months before, been
an officer in one of the native regiments that mutinied at Cawnpore;
and, in relation to the events at that place, he said: ‘I am truly
thankful that most of the officers of my late corps died of fever in the
intrenchment, previous to the awful massacre. Would that it had been the
will of Heaven that all had met the same fate, fearful as that was. For
weeks exposed to a scorching sun, without shelter of any kind, and
surrounded by the dying and the dead, their ears ringing with the groans
of the wounded, the shouts of sun-struck madmen, the plaintive cries of
children, the bitter sobs and sighs of bereaved mothers, widows, and
orphans. Even such a death was far better than what fell to the lot of
many. Not even allowed to die without being made witnesses of the bloody
deaths of all they loved on earth, they were insulted, abused, and
finally, after weeks of such treatment, cruelly and foully murdered. One
sickens, and shudders at the bare mention of it.... Oh! how thankful I
am that I have no wife, no sisters out here.’ It was a terrible crisis
that could lead officers, eight or ten thousand miles away from those
near and dear to them, to say this.
It is necessary, as a matter of historical truth, to describe briefly
the condition of the house of slaughter on the 17th of July; and this
cannot be better done than in the words employed by the officers and
soldiers in various letters written by them, afterwards made public. The
first that we shall select runs thus: ‘I have seen the fearful
slaughter-house; and I also saw one of the 1st native infantry men,
according to order, wash up part of the blood which stains the floor,
before being hanged.’ [This order will presently be noticed in the words
of Brigadier Neill.] ‘There were quantities of dresses, clogged thickly
with blood; children’s frocks, frills, and ladies’ underclothing of all
kinds; boys’ trousers; leaves of Bibles, and of one book in particular,
which seems to be strewed over the whole place, called _Preparation for
Death_; broken daguerreotypes; hair, some nearly a yard long; bonnets,
all bloody; and one or two shoes. I picked up a bit of paper with the
words on it, “Ned’s hair, with love;” and opened and found a little bit
tied up with ribbon. The first [troops] that went in, I believe, saw the
bodies with their arms and legs sticking out through the ground. They
had all been thrown in a heap in the well.’ A second letter: ‘The house
was alongside the Cawnpore hotel, where the Nena lived. I never was more
horrified. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that the soles of my
boots were more than covered with the blood of these poor wretched
creatures. Portions of their dresses, collars, children’s socks, and
ladies’ round hats, lay about, saturated with their blood; and in the
sword-cuts on the wooden pillars of the room, long dark hair was
sticking, carried by the edge of the weapon, and there hung their
tresses—a most painful sight. I picked up a mutilated Prayer-book; it
appeared to have been open at page 36 of the Litany, where I have little
doubt those poor creatures sought and found consolation in that
beautiful supplication; it is there sprinkled with blood.’ A third: ‘We
found that the Nena had murdered all the women and children that he had
taken prisoners, and thrown them naked down a well. The women and
children had been kept in a sort of zenana, and no attention whatever
paid to cleanliness. In that place they had been butchered, as the
ground was covered with clotted blood. One poor woman had evidently been
working, as a small work-box was open, and the things scattered about.
There were several children’s small round hats, evidently shewing that
that was their prison. The well close by was one of the most awful
sights imaginable.’ A fourth: ‘It is an actual and literal fact, that
the floor of the inner room was several inches deep in blood all over;
it came over men’s shoes as they stepped. Tresses of women’s hair,
children’s shoes, and articles of female wear, broad hats and bonnets,
books, and such like things, lay scattered all about the rooms. There
were the marks of bullets and sword-cuts on the walls—not high up, as if
men had fought—but low down, and about the corners where the poor
crouching creatures had been cut to pieces. The bodies of the victims
had been thrown indiscriminately into a well—a mangled heap, with arms
and legs protruding.’ Some of the officers, by carefully examining the
walls, found scraps of writing in pencil, or scratched in the plaster,
such as, ‘Think of us’—‘Avenge us’—‘Your wives and families are here in
misery and at the disposal of savages’—‘Oh, oh! my child, my child.’ One
letter told of a row of women’s shoes, _with bleeding amputated feet in
them_, ranged in cruel mockery on one side of a room; while the other
side exhibited a row of children’s shoes, filled in a similarly terrible
way; but it is not certain whether the place referred to was Cawnpore.
Another writer mentioned an incident which, unless supported by
collateral testimony, seems wanting in probability. It was to the effect
that when the 78th Highlanders entered Cawnpore, they found the remains
of Sir Hugh Wheeler’s daughter. They removed the hair carefully from the
head; sent some of it to the relations of the unfortunate lady; divided
the rest amongst themselves; counted every single hair in each parcel;
and swore to take a terrible revenge by putting to death as many
mutineers as there were hairs. The storm of indignant feeling that might
suggest such a vow can be understood easily enough; but the alleged mode
of manifestation savours somewhat of the melodramatic and improbable.
A slight allusion has been made above to Brigadier Neill’s proceedings
at Cawnpore, after the fatal 17th of July. In what relation he stood to
the reconquering force will be noticed in its due place; but it may be
well here to quote a passage from a private letter, written
independently of his public dispatches: ‘I am collecting all the
property of the deceased, and trying to trace if any have survived; but
as yet have not succeeded in finding one.’ [Captain Bruce’s research,
presently to be mentioned, had not then been made.] ‘Man, woman, and
child, seem all to have been murdered. As soon as that monster Nena
Sahib heard of the success of our troops, and of their having forced the
bridge about twenty miles from Cawnpore, he ordered the wholesale
butchery of the poor women and children. I find the officers’ servants
behaved shamefully, and were in the plot, all but the lowest-caste ones.
They deserted their masters and plundered them. Whenever a rebel is
caught, he is immediately tried, and unless he can prove a defence, he
is sentenced to be hanged at once; but the chief rebels or ringleaders I
make first clean up a certain portion of the pool of blood, still two
inches deep, in the shed where the fearful murder and mutilation of
women and children took place. To touch blood is most abhorrent to the
high-caste natives; they think by doing so they doom their souls to
perdition. Let them think so. My object is to inflict a fearful
punishment for a revolting, cowardly, barbarous deed, and to strike
terror into these rebels.... The well of mutilated bodies—alas!
containing upwards of two hundred women and children—I have had decently
covered in and built up as one grave.’
With one additional testimony, we will close this scene of gloomy
horror. The Earl of Shaftesbury, as was noticed in a former page, took
occasion soon after the news of the Cawnpore atrocities reached London,
to advert at a public meeting to the shrinking abhorrence with which
those deeds were regarded, and to the failure of the journalists to
present the full and fearful truth. He himself mentioned an incident,
not as an example of the worst that had been done by the incarnate
fiends at Cawnpore, but to indicate how much remains to be told if pen
dare write or tongue utter it: ‘I have seen a copy of a letter written
and sent to England by an officer of rank who was one of the first that
entered Cawnpore a few hours after the perpetration of the frightful
massacre.... To his unutterable dismay, he saw a number of European
women stripped stark naked, lying on their backs, fastened by the arms
and legs; and there many of them had been lying four or five days
exposed to a burning sun; others had been more recently laid down;
others again had been actually hacked to pieces, and so recently, that
the blood which streamed from their mangled bodies was still warm. He
found children of ten, twelve, thirteen, and fourteen years of age
treated in the same horrible manner at the corners of the streets and in
all parts of the town: attended by every circumstance of insult, the
most awful and the most degrading, the most horrible and frightful to
the conception, and the most revolting to the dignity and feelings of
civilised men. Cawnpore was only a sample of what was perpetrated in
various parts of that vast region, and that with a refinement of cruelty
never before heard of. Women and children have been massacred before;
but I don’t believe there is any instance on record where children have
been reserved in cold blood to be most cruelly and anatomically tortured
in the presence of their horrified parents before being finally put to
death.’
Something must be said here concerning the devastated property at
Cawnpore, in relation to the miserable beings to whom it had once
belonged. When the city was again in British hands, and the Rajah of
Bithoor driven out with the curses of all English hearts resting on him,
it was found to be in such a devastated state, so far as regarded
Europeans, that Brigadier Neill was at a loss what to do with the wrecks
of spoliated property. He requested Captain Bruce, of the 5th Punjaub
cavalry, whom he had appointed temporarily superintendent of police, to
write to the Calcutta newspapers, inviting the aid of any one able to
identify the property. The letter said: ‘The property of the unfortunate
people who lost their lives here has been collected in one spot; and any
which can be recognised will be handed over to the owners, or put up to
auction for the benefit of the estates of the deceased. There is a good
deal of property belonging to the different mercantile firms here, as
well as to the heirs of deceased officers, &c.; but when I mention that
every house was gutted, and the property scattered over sixty or seventy
square miles of country, it will be apparent how impossible it was to
take care of individual interests.... Almost all the former European
residents here having been murdered by the miscreant Nena Sahib, there
is no one forthcoming to recognise or give any information concerning
the property that has been saved.’ At a later date Captain Bruce
captured one of the boatmen who had come down from Futteghur with the
first party of unhappy fugitives from that place; the man had a large
amount of English jewellery in his possession, comprising brooches,
earrings, bracelets, clasps, studs, shawl-pins, hair-lockets, gold
chains, and similar articles. The boatman had probably secreted the
jewel-caskets of the unfortunate ladies, at or shortly before the
forcible landing of the boat-party at Bithoor.
A much more painful inquiry, than any relating to property, was that
relating to the loss of life. When Captain Bruce, after many days of
sedulous inquiry, had collected all the available information bearing on
the fate of the hapless sufferers, he arrived at these conclusions—that
the only Europeans who escaped from the boat-massacre, and really
obtained their liberty, were two officers and two soldiers—probably
Lieutenant Delafosse and three of his companions; that the only one who
remained in Cawnpore and yet preserved his life, was a pensioner of the
3d light dragoons, who was concealed in the city by a trooper of the 4th
light cavalry; and that there were, on the 31st of July, six Englishmen,
three Englishwomen, and three children, concealed and protected by the
Rajah of Calpee, across the Jumna; but it was not stated, and perhaps
not known, whether they had gone thither from Cawnpore. Mr Shepherd
himself was not included in this list. When Lieutenant Delafosse, about
a fortnight after the recapture of Cawnpore, was requested by Brigadier
Neill to furnish the best list he could of the English sufferers at that
place, he endeavoured to separate the victims into three groups,
according as they had died in the intrenchment, in the boats, or in the
house of slaughter. But this was necessarily a very imperfect list; for,
on the one hand, he knew nothing of the two parties of fugitives from
Futteghur; while, on the other, he speaks of many persons who came into
the station with their families on account of disturbance, and whose
names he did not know. Taking the matter in a military estimate,
however, he gave the names of one general (Wheeler), one brigadier
(Jack), three colonels, five majors, thirteen captains, thirty-nine
lieutenants, five ensigns, and nine doctors or army-surgeons; Lady and
Miss Wheeler, Sir George Parker, and two clergymen or missionaries, were
among the other members in his melancholy list. No guess can be made of
the total numbers from this document, for the persons included under the
word ‘family’ are seldom specified by name or number. The mournful truth
was indeed only too evident that many complete families—families
consisting of very numerous members—were among the slaughtered. When the
lists began to be made out, of those who had been known as Cawnpore
residents or Futteghur fugitives, and who were found dead when the
English recaptured the place, there were such entries as
these—‘Greenway: Mr, two Mrs, Martha, Jane, John, Henry’—‘Fitzgerald:
John, Margaret, Mary, Tom, Ellen’—‘Gilpin: Mrs, William, Harriet, Sarah,
Jane, F.’—‘Reid: Mr, Susan, James, Julia, C., Charles’—‘Reeve: Mrs,
Mary, Catherine, Ellen, Nelly, Jane, Cornelia, Deon.’
Religious men, thoughtful men—and, on the other hand, men wrought up to
a pitch of exasperated feeling—afterwards spoke of the fatal well as a
spot that should be marked in some way for the observance of posterity.
Two church missionaries were among the murdered at Cawnpore; and it was
urged in many quarters that a Christian church, built with the splendour
and resources of a great nation, would be a suitable erection at that
spot—as an appropriate memorial to the dead, a striking lesson to the
living, and the commencement of a grand effort to Christianise the
heathen millions of India. Whether a church be the right covering for a
hideous pit containing nearly two hundred mangled bodies of gentle
English women and children; and whether rival creeds would struggle for
precedency in the management of its construction, its details, and the
form of its service—may fairly admit of doubt; but with or without a
church, the English in no parts of the world are ever likely to forget
THE WELL AT CAWNPORE!
Note.
_Nena Sahib’s Proclamations._—When Generals Neill and Havelock were
at Cawnpore, during a period subsequent to that comprised within the
range of the present chapter, they found many proclamations which
had been printed in the Mahratta language by order of Nena Sahib, as
if for distribution among the natives under his influence. These
proclamations were afterwards translated into English, and included
among the parliamentary papers relating to India. A few of them may
fittingly be reproduced here, to shew by what means that consummate
villain sought to attain his ends.
The following appears to have been issued on or about the 1st of
July:—‘As, by the kindness of God and the ikbal or good-fortune of
the Emperor, all the Christians who were at Delhi, Poonah, Satara,
and other places, and even those 5000 European soldiers who went in
disguise into the former city and were discovered, are destroyed and
sent to hell by the pious and sagacious troops, who are firm to
their religion; and as they have all been conquered by the present
government, and as no trace of them is left in these places, it is
the duty of all the subjects and servants of the government to
rejoice at the delightful intelligence, and to carry on their
respective work with comfort and ease.’
This was accompanied by another: ‘As, by the bounty of the glorious
Almighty God and the enemy-destroying fortune of the Emperor, the
yellow-faced and narrow-minded people have been sent to hell, and
Cawnpore has been conquered, it is necessary that all the subjects
and landowners should be as obedient to the present government as
they had been to the former one; that all the government servants
should promptly and cheerfully engage their whole mind in executing
the orders of government; that it is the incumbent duty of all the
ryots and landed proprietors of every district to rejoice at the
thought that the Christians have been sent to hell, and both the
Hindoo and Mohammedan religions have been confirmed; and that they
should as usual be obedient to the authorities of the government,
and never to suffer any complaint against themselves to reach the
ears of the higher authority.’
On the 5th of the same month the Nena issued the following to the
kotwal or Mayor of Cawnpore: ‘It has come to our notice that some of
the city people, having heard the rumours of the arrival of the
European soldiers at Allahabad, are deserting their houses and going
out into the districts; you are, therefore, directed to proclaim in
each lane and street of the city that regiments of cavalry and
infantry and batteries have been despatched to check the Europeans
either at Allahabad or Futtehpoor; that the people should therefore
remain in their houses without any apprehension, and engage their
minds in carrying on their work.’
Another proclamation displayed in an extraordinary way the Rajah’s
mode of practising on the credulity of the natives, by the most
enormous and barefaced fictions: ‘A traveller just arrived in
Cawnpore from Calcutta states that in the first instance a council
was held to take into consideration the means to be adopted to do
away with the religion of the Mohammedans and Hindoos by the
distribution of cartridges. The council came to this resolution,
that, as this matter was one of religion, the services of seven or
eight thousand European soldiers would be necessary, as 50,000
Hindustanis would have to be destroyed, and then the whole of the
people of Hindostan would become Christians. A petition with the
substance of this resolution was sent to the Queen Victoria, and it
was approved. A council was then held a second time, in which
English merchants took a part, and it was decided that, in order
that no evil should arise from mutiny, large reinforcements should
be sent for. When the dispatch was received and read in England,
thousands of European soldiers were embarked on ships as speedily as
possible, and sent off to Hindostan. The news of their being
despatched reached Calcutta. The English authorities there ordered
the issue of the cartridges, for the real intention was to
Christianise the army first, and this being effected, the conversion
of the people would speedily follow. Pigs’ and cows’ fat was mixed
up with the cartridges; this became known through one of the
Bengalese who was employed in the cartridge-making establishment. Of
those through whose means this was divulged, one was killed and the
rest imprisoned. While in this country these counsels were being
adopted, in England the vakeel (ambassador) of the Sultan of Roum
(Turkey) sent news to the sultan that thousands of European soldiers
were being sent for the purpose of making Christians of all the
people of Hindostan. Upon this the sultan issued a firman to the
King of Egypt to this effect: “You must deceive the Queen Victoria,
for this is not a time for friendship, for my vakeel writes that
thousands of European soldiers have been despatched for the purpose
of making Christians the army and people of Hindostan. In this
manner, then, this must be checked. If I should be remiss, then how
can I shew my face to God; and one day this may come upon me also,
for if the English make Christians of all in Hindostan, they will
then fix their designs upon my country.” When the firman reached the
King of Egypt, he prepared and arranged his troops before the
arrival of the English army at Alexandria, for this is the route to
India. The instant the English army arrived, the King of Egypt
opened guns upon them from all sides, and destroyed and sunk their
ships, and not a single soldier escaped. The English in Calcutta,
after the issue of the order for the cartridges, and when the mutiny
had become great, were in expectation of the arrival of the army
from London; but the Great God, in his omnipotence, had beforehand
put an end to this. When the news of the destruction of the army of
London became known, then the governor-general was plunged in grief
and sorrow, and beat his head.
‘Done by order of the Peishwa Bahadoor, 13 Zekaida, 1273 Hegira.’
[Illustration:
The Well at Cawnpore.
]
-----
Footnote 16:
Report of Select Committee of House of Commons, 1832.
Footnote 17:
The number of persons in the intrenchment on that day will probably
never be accurately known; but Mr Shepherd, from the best materials
available to him, made the following estimate:
First company, 6th battalion, artillery, 61
Her Majesty’s 32d foot, 84
Her Majesty’s 84th foot, 50
1st European Fusiliers, 15
English officers, mostly of mutinied regiments, 100
Merchants, writers, clerks, &c., 100
English drummers of mutinied regiments, 40
Wives and children of English officers, 50
Wives and children of English soldiers, 160
Wives and children of civilians, 120
Sick, native officers, and sepoys, 100
Native servants, cooks, &c., 100
Footnote 18:
‘Mamma died, July 12.’ ‘Alice died, July 9.’ ‘George died, June 27.’
‘Entered the barracks, May 21.’ ‘Cavalry left, June 5.’ ‘First shot
fired, June 6.’ ‘Uncle Willy died, June 18.’ ‘Aunt Lilly, June 17.’
[Illustration:
House of the Rajah at ALLAHABAD.
]