CHAPTER XVII.

MINOR MUTINIES: JULY AND AUGUST.

The reader will easily appreciate the grounds on which it is deemed

inexpedient to carry out uninterruptedly the history of the mutiny at

any one spot. Unless contemporaneous events elsewhere be noticed, links

in the chain of causes and effects will be wanting. We have traced the

siege of Delhi down to a certain point in the line of operations; we

have followed the footsteps of Havelock until he reached the

ball-shattered home of the European residents at Lucknow; we have

watched the more immediate effects of the Dinapoor mutiny in the regions

of Bengal and Behar. It now, however, becomes necessary to inquire what

was doing elsewhere during the months of July and August—how the

Europeans at Agra fared, when the stations on all sides of them were in

the hands of the insurgents; how far the affrighted women and tender

children succeeded in finding refuge at the hill-stations of Nynee Tal

and its neighbourhood; what the Mahratta followers of Scindia and Holkar

were doing; to what extent Rohilcund and the Cis-Sutlej territory were

thrown into anarchy; whether or not Bombay and Madras, Nagpoor and the

Nizam’s country, remained at peace; how, in short, India generally was

affected during the two months above named. Fortunately, this duty will

not demand so full a measure of treatment as the analogous narratives

for earlier months. The isolated revolts in June occupied attention in

three successive Chapters[67]—because of their great number, the

wide-spreading area over which they occurred, the sufferings of many of

the Europeans, the romantic adventures of others, the daring bravery of

nearly all, and the necessity for describing the geographical and

military peculiarities of the several provinces and stations. These

matters having once been treated with moderate fulness, the narrative

may now proceed at an accelerated pace; insomuch that we shall be

enabled, in the present chapter, to take a bird’s-eye glance at the

isolated or miscellaneous events, whether mutinies or suppressions of

mutiny, belonging to the months of July and August.

Let us begin by directing attention to that small but thickly populated

country lying between Patna and Allahabad, and extending in the other

direction from the Ganges to Nepaul. Goruckpore, Ghazeepore, Azimghur,

Jounpoor, and Benares, all lie within this region; Dinapoor, Buxar,

Mirzapore, Sultanpore, and Fyzabad, lie just beyond it; and towns and

villages of smaller character bestrew it more thickly than any other

part of India. When Henry Lawrence was dead, and Inglis powerless in

Oude for anything beyond maintaining his position in Lucknow; when

Wheeler had been killed at Cawnpore, and Lloyd superseded at Dinapoor;

when Colvin was shut up in Agra, and could do very little as

lieutenant-governor of the Northwest Provinces—there was scarcely any

one who could exercise control within the region just marked out. If a

magistrate, collector, or commandant, succeeded in maintaining British

supremacy by mingled courage and sagacity, so far well; but he was in

few instances able to exercise power beyond the limits of his own town

or station. Under these circumstances, Viscount Canning created a new

office, that of ‘Lieutenant-governor of the Central Provinces,’ and gave

it to Mr J. P. Grant, one of the members of the Supreme Council at

Calcutta. The object in view was to restore order to a large range of

country that had been thrown into utter anarchy. The title was not,

perhaps, happily chosen; for there was already a ‘Central India,’

comprising the Mahratta country around Indore or Malwah; and, moreover,

a jurisdiction was hardly ‘central’ that ran up to the borders of

Nepaul. Passing by this, however, the newly aggregated ‘Central

Provinces’ comprised the Allahabad division, the Benares division, and

the Saugor division; containing a large number of important cities and

towns.

When Mr Grant assumed his new duties in August, he found that the

Goruckpore district was entirely in the hands of rebels. The leader of

the rebels was one Mahomed Hussein, who was at the head of a poorly

armed rabble, rather than of an organised military force, and who, with

that rabble, had been perpetrating acts of great barbarity. One

civilian, Mr Bird, had displayed that gallant spirit which so honourably

marked many of the Company’s servants: he remained behind, at his own

request, when the rest of the civil officers fled from Goruckpore; he

hoped to be able to maintain his position, but was forced after a time

to yield to the pressure of adverse circumstances, and escape to

Bettiah. The governor-general, during the month of June, accepted aid

which had been offered some time previously, by Jung Bahadoor of Nepaul.

In pursuance of this agreement, three thousand Goorkhas were sent down

from Khatmandoo, and entered British territory northward of Goruckpore.

They were ordered on shortly afterwards to Azimghur; and most of the

Goruckpore officials, availing themselves of this escort, quitted the

station with their movables and the government treasure. Some of the

Goorkhas then remained for a time at Azimghur, while the rest went to

escort the treasure to Jounpoor and Benares. While at Goruckpore, the

Goorkhas assisted in disarming such native troops as were at the

station. Much was expected from these hardy troops, and it is only just

to observe that they generally warranted the expectation. It was late in

June that the arrangement was entered into, the immediate object in view

being the pacification of the very districts now under notice.

The Azimghur district had its full share in the troubles of the period.

During the first half of July, mutinous sepoys from other stations were

frequently threatening the town of Azimghur, and keeping the Europeans

perpetually on the watch. The 65th native infantry were very turbulent

in the vicinity. On a particular day the Company’s servants at the

station held a council of war; some voted that Azimghur was untenable,

and that a retreat should be made to Ghazeepore; but bolder councils

prevailed with the majority. At last a regular battle with the enemy

took place; a battle which has been described in such a lively manner by

Mr Venables, deputy-magistrate of Azimghur, that we cannot do better

than quote a portion of a letter in which he narrated the events of the

day.[68] The action was really worthy of note even in a military sense;

for a small force, headed by a civilian, defeated an enemy ten times as

numerous. Mr Venables received the thanks of the government for his

skill and courage on this occasion. But afterwards came a time of

mortification. Of the native troops which formed his little army on the

18th, more than half belonged to the very regiment which mutinied a few

days afterwards at Segowlie, after murdering their commandant, Major

Holmes. Mr Venables pondered on the question: ‘Will the detachment of

the 12th irregulars remain faithful at Azimghur, when another portion of

the same regiment has mutinied at Segowlie?’ He thought such a proof of

fidelity improbable; and therefore, he and the other Europeans sought to

avert danger by removing from Azimghur to Ghazeepore, which they did on

the 30th of July. The district all around the station at Azimghur

remained at the mercy of lawless marauders until the arrival of the

Goorkhas from Goruckpore, mentioned in the last paragraph. Then began a

struggle, which should act with the most effective energy—Oudian

insurgents from the west, openly hostile to the British; or Nepaul

Goorkhas from the north, serving in alliance with the British—a struggle

in which, it hardly need be said, many villages were reduced to ashes,

and much disturbance of peaceful industry produced.

The Jounpoor district was even more completely disorganised than those

of Goruckpore and Azimghur; it had been almost entirely abandoned since

the first mutiny of the troops at that station in June. Not until after

a Goorkha force had marched into Jounpoor in August, could the civil

officers feel any safety in returning to their duties at that station.

Benares, the most important place hereabouts, became a temporary home

for many officers who, by the revolt of their several native regiments,

had been suddenly and unwillingly deprived of active duties; there were

eight or ten of them, mostly belonging to Oude regiments which had

revolted. When Jung Bahadoor agreed to send a body of Goorkha troops

from Nepaul to the disturbed districts, the Calcutta government

transmitted orders for some of these unemployed officers to meet those

troops at Goruckpore, and act with them. Among those officers were

Captain Boileau and Lieutenants Miles, Hall, and Campbell. It was early

in July when this order was sent to Benares, but some weeks elapsed ere

the Goorkhas reached Goruckpore. Before this co-operation with the

Goorkhas took place, Benares was enabled to render a little good service

against the rebels by the aid of British troops, not stationed at that

place, but while on transit to the upper provinces. The gallant 78th

Highlanders, journeying from Calcutta to Allahabad, were divided into

portions according as the means of transport were presented, and

according to the necessities of the districts through which they passed.

On the 5th of July, Lieutenant-colonel Gordon, commanding the Benares

district, saw the necessity of checking some insurgents near that city;

and he intrusted that duty to Major Haliburton of the 78th. The major

started on the morning of the 6th, with a mixed detachment of Europeans

and natives, and marched eight miles on the Azimghur road. His advanced

cavalry reported a large body of the enemy half a mile ahead, with their

centre posted across the road, and their flanks resting on villages,

partially concealed behind trees and rising-ground. Their number was

about 500, aided by an equal number of villagers apparently eager for

mischief. The contest was soon over, and the enemy repelled. The chief

point that rendered the incident worthy of note was that a few of the

12th irregular cavalry, employed by Haliburton, shewed bad symptoms

during the day; they did not charge the enemy with alacrity; and they

appeared inclined to listen to the appeals made to their religious

feelings by the natives whom they were called upon to oppose. These

troopers belonged to the same regiment as those who afterwards mutinied

at Segowlie.

After the departure of the Highlanders, this great and important Hindoo

city was frequently thrown into excitement by mutinies or reports of

mutinies at other places. Rumours came in early in August, to the effect

that the irregular cavalry from Segowlie, after murdering their

officers, were on their way to Jounpoor, thirty-five miles from Benares,

with the intention of visiting Benares itself. The city contained at

that time only 300 English soldiers, none of whom could safely be spared

to go out and confront the rebels. The civil lines at Benares comprised

that portion of the British station which contained the jails, the

courts of justice, and the residences of the commissioner, judge,

surgeon, &c.; it lay on the north of the Burnah River, while the

military lines were on the south, the two being connected by a bridge.

The civil station was thus peculiarly open to attack; and all that the

authorities could do for it was to post a party of soldiers and two guns

on the bridge; the prisoners were removed to the other side of the

river, the courts were abandoned, and all valuable property was taken

from the civil station to that of the European military in the

cantonment. The Rev. James Kennedy, chaplain of the station, has in a

letter mentioned a fact which shews in how agitated a state the English

community at Benares were at that time;[69] illustrating in a striking

way—as was more than once shewn during those turmoils in India—that the

panic arising from an apprehended danger was often worse than the

reality, paralysing the exertions of those who would have rendered good

service had actual fighting with an open enemy commenced. No sooner had

the dread of the Segowlie mutineers passed away, than an approach of

those from Dinapoor was threatened. Colonel Gordon, seeing the mischief

that would accrue from such a step, resolved to prevent it: he sent out

his handful of English soldiers, not merely to check the approach of the

rebels, but to drive them from the district altogether. Koer Singh and

his rabble army did not wait for this conflict; they gave Benares a

‘wide offing,’ and bent their steps towards Mirzapore. While the few

English soldiers were engaged on this duty, the sentinels left behind

were aided by the residents, headed by the judge—all keeping watch and

ward in turn, for the common safety.

Mirzapore, from its large size and great importance as a commercial

city, and its position on the banks of the Ganges between Benares and

Allahabad, was often placed in considerable peril. No mutiny actually

occurred there, but the city was repeatedly threatened by mutineers from

other quarters, who, if successful, would certainly have been aided by

all the budmashes of the place, and by many Mussulmans higher in station

than mere rabble. The European residents were perpetually on the watch.

When a battery of artillery came up the Ganges _en route_ to Allahabad,

they earnestly entreated to be allowed to retain it for their own

protection; but Neill, the presiding genius at that time, would not

listen to this; Allahabad and Cawnpore must be thought of, and Mirzapore

must shift for itself. When the affairs at Segowlie and Dinapoor became

known, measures were taken for making some kind of stronghold at

Mirzapore. The Europeans intrenched the largest and strongest house

belonging to them, barricaded the streets, buried much property, placed

other property in guarded boats on the river, and prepared for service

four small guns and five hundred rounds of ammunition. On numbering

heads, they found 135 persons, all of whom had separate duties or posts

assigned to them in the hour of need; they also secured provision for a

month. This judicious line of policy answered the desired purpose: the

Dinapoor mutineers did not enter or molest Mirzapore. Those marauders

passed westward along a line of route further removed from the Ganges,

plundering as they went, and committing great devastation. On the 19th

of August, a small force set out from Mirzapore to check those acts of

violence; but the Dinapoor men generally managed to keep beyond the

reach of pursuers. A little later, when other regiments had mutinied in

the Saugor division, it was deemed prudent by the Calcutta authorities

to send a portion of a Madras regiment, with two guns, to aid in the

protection of Mirzapore.

It may here be remarked, that along the line of country immediately

adjacent to the eastern frontier of Oude, the influence of that

turbulent province was made abundantly manifest during the period now

under notice. There were many zemindars near the border who maintained

bodies of armed men on foot. A rebel chief of Sultanpore, one Mehudee

Hussein, appeared to direct the movements in that region; he was one

among many who received direct commissions from the rebel authorities at

Lucknow, as chieftains expected to bring all their forces to bear

against the British. This fact alone suffices to shew how completely

Oude was at that time in the hands of the enemy.

Mr Grant, as lieutenant-governor of the Central Provinces, was called

upon to exercise authority in the districts of Allahabad, Futtehpoor,

Cawnpore, Banda, and Humeerpoor, as well as in those of Goruckpore,

Ghazeepore, Jounpoor, Benares, and Mirzapore. When he settled down at

Benares as his head-quarters, towards the close of August, he found that

no civil business of the Company was carried on throughout the Doab,

from Allahabad to Cawnpore, except at Allahabad itself. Neill and

Havelock, by the gallant operations already described, obtained military

control of the great line of road; but their troops being lamentably

small in number, they were nearly powerless beyond a few miles’ distance

on either side of that road; while the judges and magistrates, the

commissioners and collectors, had in only a few instances been able to

resume their duties as civil servants of the Company. A large portion of

the population, driven from their villages either by the rebel sepoys or

by the British, had not yet returned; and the fertile Doab had become,

for a time, almost a desert. Banda and Humeerpoor, British districts

immediately south of the Doab, were temporarily but completely given up;

scarcely an Englishman remained within them, unless at hide-and-seek.

Some of the petty chiefs, including the rajahs of Mundah and Churkarree,

remained faithful. For a time, police in the service of the Company were

able to retain command in that part of the Allahabad division which lay

north of the Ganges; but the Oudians, as August advanced, crossed the

frontier, and gradually drove them away, thus further narrowing the belt

of country within which the Company’s ‘raj’ was respected. Koer Singh,

whose name has so often been mentioned, was ruler for a time south of

the Jumna, with his Dinapoor mutineers; it was supposed that he had

offered his services to Nena Sahib and to the King of Delhi, in hopes of

some substantial authority or advantages as a reward for his

co-operation. This unsettled state of the region south of the Jumna

placed Lieutenant Osborne in an extraordinary position. He was, as we

have already seen (p. 180), British representative at the court of the

Rajah of Rewah, a place southwest of Allahabad—unimportant in itself,

but surrounded by districts every one of which was in a state of

anarchy. Although the young rajah was friendly to the English, and aided

the lieutenant in his military plans for checking the mutineers, it was

at all times uncertain how far the Rewah troops themselves could be

depended on. At a somewhat later date than that to which this chapter

relates, Osborne was living in a tent at Rewah, with no Englishman of

any grade near him, and uncertain whether he could rely for an hour on

the fidelity of the native troops belonging to the rajah—defended by

little else than his own indomitable force of character. Koer Singh and

the Dinapoor mutineers had asked the rajah either to join them, or to

allow them to pass through his territory; he opposed it; his troops

wished it; and thus the rajah and the lieutenant were thrown into

antagonism with the Rewah troops.

Another region or division placed under Mr Grant’s

lieutenant-governorship, Saugor, had witnessed very great disturbance

during the month of June, as has already been shewn;[70] and he found

the effects of that disturbance manifested in various ways throughout

July and August. Rewah, Nowgong, Jhansi, Saugor, Jubbulpoor,

Hosungabad—all had suffered, either from the mutiny of troops at those

towns, or by the arrival of mutineers from other stations. Nagpoor was

under a different government or control; but it would not on that

account have escaped the perils of those evil days, had it not been that

the troops distributed over that province belonged to the Madras rather

than to the Bengal army—a most important difference, as we have had many

opportunities of seeing. Mr Plowden, commissioner of Nagpoor, found it

comparatively easy to maintain his own territory in peace, for the

reason just stated; and he used all possible exertion to bring up troops

from Madras, and send them on to the Saugor province. His advice to

Major Erskine was, to disarm his Bengal troops at all the stations as

soon as he could obtain Madras troops; but the numbers of these latter

were not sufficient to permit the carrying out of such a plan. The

Saugor territory, in having the peaceful part of Bengal on the east, and

Nagpoor territory on the south, was pretty safe from disturbance on

those frontiers; but having the Jumna region on the north, and the

Mahratta dominions on the west, it had many sources of disturbance in

those directions.

In the town and military station of Saugor, the state of affairs was

very remarkable. Brigadier Sage, in the month of June (p. 178), had

converted a large fort into a place of refuge for the ladies and

families of the officers, provisioned it for six months, placed the guns

in position, and guarded the whole by a body of European gunners. This

he did, not because the native regiments at the station (31st and 42d B.

N. I., and 3d irregular cavalry) had mutinied, but because they appeared

very unsettled, and received tempting offers from scheming chieftains in

the vicinity. The Calcutta authorities called upon the brigadier for an

explanation of the grounds on which he had shut up all the Europeans at

Saugor, three hundred in number, in the fort, without any actual mutiny

at that place; but on account of interrupted dâks and telegraphs, many

weeks elapsed before the various official communications could take

place, and during those weeks the brigadier was responsible for the

safety of the residents. The remarkable feature in all this was, not

that the native troops should mutiny, or that the Europeans should live

in a fortified residence, but that one regiment should remain faithful

when others at the same spot repudiated allegiance. Early in July the

42d and the cavalry endeavoured to incite the 31st to mutiny; but not

only did the latter remain true to their salt—they attacked and beat off

the rebels. On the 7th of the month a regular battle ensued; the 31st

and some of the irregular cavalry attacking the 42d and the rest of the

irregulars, and expelling them altogether from the station. ‘Well done,

31st,’ said Major Erskine, when news of this event reached Jubbulpoor.

It was not merely that two infantry regiments were in antagonism; but

two wings of one cavalry regiment were also at open war with each other.

So delighted were the English officers of the 31st at the conduct of

their men, that they were eager to join in the fray; but the brigadier

would not allow this; he distrusted all these regiments alike, and would

not allow the officers to place themselves in peril. Many at Saugor

thought that an excess of caution was herein exhibited.

[Illustration:

Fort at Agra, from the river Jumna.

]

The other chief place in the province, Jubbulpoor, as shewn in a former

chapter (p. 178), had been thrown into much perplexity in the month of

June by the news of mutiny at Jhansi and Nuseerabad; and Major Erskine,

commissioner of the province, sought how he might best prevent the

pestilence from spreading southeastward. He was at Jubbulpoor with the

52d B. N. I. By a system of constant watchfulness he passed through that

month without an outbreak. It was, however, a month of anxiety; for such

of the ladies as did not retire to Kamptee for shelter, remained in

continual dread near their husbands at Jubbulpoor, seldom taking off

their clothes at night, and holding ready to flee at an hour’s warning—a

state of suspense entailing almost as much suffering as mutiny itself.

Early in July the Europeans fortified the Residency, and stored it with

half a year’s provisions for thirty officers, thirty ladies and

children, and several civilians; this was done on receipt of news that

the 42d native infantry and the 3d irregular cavalry had mutinied at

Saugor. The Residency was made very strong, being converted from a house

into a fort; three officers were made garrison engineers, two acted as

commissariat officers, and all the rest took specific duties. It became

not only the stronghold, but the home, night and day, for nearly seventy

persons. One of the officers who had the best means of knowing the

temper of the troops, while praising the 52d for still remaining

faithful under so many temptations from mutineers elsewhere, and while

promising them extra pay for their fidelity, nevertheless acknowledged

in a private letter that the regiment was a broken reed to rest upon.

‘To tell the truth, I doubt the regiment being much better than any

other. Circumstances alone keep the sepoys quiet. There is no treasure;

we merely collect enough to pay ourselves and them. If they plundered

the country, they could not take away the property; as the Bundelas

would loot and murder them.’ Speaking of the domestic economy of his

brother-officers and their families in the fortified Residency, he said:

‘The 52d mess manage everything in the _Khana peena_ line (eating and

drinking). Ladies and gentlemen all dine together—a strange scene, quite

a barrack-life. In the evening a few of us drive out; others ride and

walk. We cannot afford above six or eight to leave the garrison

together.’ July passed over in safety in Jubbulpoor. Early in August a

relieving force arrived from the Nagpoor territory, which, nearly

tranquil itself, was able to forward trusty Madras troops to regions

troubled by the faithless sepoys of the Bengal army. This force

consisted of the 33d Madras native infantry, a squadron of the 4th

Madras cavalry, 75 European artillerymen, and six guns. Major Erskine,

thus reinforced, set forth to restore order at Dumoh, and to proceed

thence to Saugor; to which place a Bombay column was expected to come,

viâ Indore and Bhopal. This was a part of the policy determined on by

the government at that time. Calcutta could supply no troops except for

the Cawnpore and Lucknow region; the Punjaub could furnish

reinforcements only for the siege of Delhi; and therefore it was

determined that columns should start from the Madras and Bombay

presidencies, comprising _no_ Bengal native troops, and should work

their way inwards and upwards to the disturbed provinces, sweeping away

mutineers wherever they encountered them. It was not until the latter

part of August that the Madras movable column could safely leave the

vicinity of Jubbulpoor for Dumoh and other disturbed stations, and even

then Major Erskine found it necessary to retain a portion of the troops.

How long the 52d remained faithful at Jubbulpoor we shall see in a

future page; but it may here be remarked that the English officers of

the native regiments were at that time placed in a position of

difficulty hardly to be comprehended by others. They either trusted

their sepoys, or felt a kind of shame in expressing distrust: if not in

actual peril, they were at least mortified and vexed; for they felt

their own honour touched when their regiments proved faithless.

The Bengal troops at Nagode appear to have remained untouched by mutiny

until the 25th of August. On that day the 50th native infantry shewed

symptoms which caused some anxiety to the officers; two days afterwards

disturbances took place, and at a period somewhat beyond the limit to

which this chapter is confined the bulk of the regiment mutinied, and

marched off to join mutineers elsewhere. About 250 of the sepoys

remained true to their colours; they escorted their officers, and all

the ladies and children, safely from Nagode to Mirzapore. These

divergences among the men of the same regiment greatly complicate any

attempts to elucidate the causes of the Indian mutiny generally. That

the sepoys were often excited by temporary and exceptional impulses, is

quite certain; and such impulses were wholly beyond the power of the

Europeans correctly to estimate. There was one station at which a

portion of a native regiment mutinied and shot an officer; the sepoys of

his company threw themselves upon his body and wept, and then—joined the

mutineers!

We pass from the Saugor province to those which were nominally under the

control of Mr Colvin as lieutenant-governor of the Northwest

Provinces—nominally, for, being himself shut up in Agra, he exercised

scarcely any control beyond the walls of the fort. Of the Doab,

sufficient has already been narrated to shew in what condition that

fertile region was placed during the months of July and August. Where

Havelock and Neill pitched their tents, there was British supremacy

maintained; but beyond the three cities of Allahabad, Futtehpoor, and

Cawnpore, and the high road connecting them, British power was little

more than a name. Higher up the Doab, at Etawah, Minpooree, Furruckabad,

Futteghur, Allygurh, Bolundshuhur, &c., anarchy was paramount. Crossing

the Ganges into Oude, the cessation of British rule was still more

complete. Scarcely an Englishman remained alive throughout the whole of

Oude, except in Lucknow; all who had not been killed had precipitately

escaped. Almost every landowner had become a petty chieftain, with his

fort, his guns, and his band of retainers. In no part of India, at no

time during the mutiny, was the hostility of the villagers more

strikingly shewn than in Oude: in other provinces the inhabitants of the

villages often aided the British troops on the march; but when Havelock,

Neill, and Outram were in Oude, every village on the road had to be

conquered, as if held by an avowed enemy. It has been often said that

the Indian outbreak was a revolt of soldiery, not a rebellion of a

people; but in Oude the contest was unquestionably with something more

than the military only. Whether their love for their deposed king was

sincere or only professed, the Oudians exhibited much animosity against

the British. What the beleaguered garrison of Lucknow were doing, we

shall see in the proper place.

Of Agra city, and the fort or residency in which the Europeans were for

safety assembled, it will be remembered (p. 173) that after peaceably

but anxiously passing through the month of May, Mr Colvin, on the 1st of

June, found it necessary or expedient to disarm the 44th and 67th Bengal

native infantry—because two companies of those regiments had just

mutinied near Muttra, and because the bulk of the regiments exhibited

unmistakable signs of disaffection. This great and important city was

then left under the charge of the 3d European Fusiliers, a corps of

volunteer European cavalry under Lieutenant Greathed, and Captain

D’Oyley’s field-battery of six guns. Most of the disarmed native troops

deserted, to swell the insurgent ranks elsewhere; and in the course of

the month the jail-guard deserted also. Thus June came to its end—the

European residents still remaining at large, but making certain

precautions for their common safety at night.

When July arrived, however, the state of affairs became much more

serious. The Europeans were forced into a battle, which ended in a

necessity for their shutting themselves up in the fort. The force was

very weak. The 3d Europeans only numbered about 600 men, the militia and

volunteers 200, and a few artillerymen belonging to the guns. Among the

officers present were several who had belonged to the Gwalior

Contingent, the various regiments and detachments of which had mutinied

at Hattrass, Neemuch, Augur, Lullutpore, and Gwalior, on various days

between the 28th of May and the 3d of July; these officers, having now

no commands, were glad to render aid in any available way towards the

defence of Agra. Just at this critical time, when the approach of a

hostile force was imminent, the Europeans were further troubled by the

sudden mutiny of the Kotah Contingent. This force—consisting of

infantry, cavalry, and artillery, about 700 men in all—having been

deemed loyal and trustworthy, had been brought about a month previously

to Agra from the southwest, and had during that time remained

true—collecting revenue, burning disaffected villages, capturing and

hanging rebels and mutineers. They were brought in from the vicinity

towards the close of June, to aid if necessary against the Neemuch

mutineers, and were encamped half-way between the barracks and

government-house. Suddenly and unexpectedly, on the evening of the 4th,

the cavalry portion of the Contingent rose in revolt, fired at their

officers, killed their sergeant-major, and then marched off, followed by

the infantry and the artillery—all but a few gunners, who enabled the

British to retain the two guns belonging to the Contingent. This revolt

startled the authorities, and necessitated a change of plan, for it had

been intended to attack the Neemuch force that very evening; nay,

matters were even still worse, for the Kotah villains at once joined

those from Neemuch.

On the morning of Sunday the 5th of July (again Sunday!), an army of

mutineers being known to be near at hand, a reconnoitring party was sent

out to examine their position. The enemy were found to consist of about

4000 infantry and 1000 cavalry, with ten or twelve guns; they comprised

the 72d B. N. I., the 7th Gwalior Contingent infantry, the 1st Bengal

native cavalry, the Malwah Contingent cavalry—which had joined the

Neemuch men at Mehidpore—and fragments of other mutinied regiments,

together with a very efficient artillery corps. The arrival of the

Neemuch mutineers had for some time been expected; and as soon as it was

known, on the 3d, that the enemy had reached Futtehpore Sikri, about

twenty miles from Agra, the ladies and children, as well as many of the

civilians and traders, had as a measure of precaution abandoned their

houses in the city, and gone into the fort, which had been cleaned out,

made as habitable as possible, and largely supplied with provisions. The

reconnoitring party returned to announce that the enemy were at

Shahgunje, a village close to the lieutenant-governor’s house, three

miles from the cantonment and four from the fort. The authorities at

Agra resolved at once to go out and fight the enemy in open field;

seeing that the native citizens had begun to think slightingly of their

British masters, and that it was necessary to remove any suspicion of

fear or timidity. The brigadier made up a force equal to about

one-eighth of the enemy’s numbers; it consisted of seven very weak

companies of the 3d European Fusiliers, the militia and volunteers, and

a battery of artillery. The infantry were placed under Colonel Riddell,

and the artillery under Captain D’Oyley. As to the volunteer cavalry, it

was made up of a curious medley of unemployed military officers,

civilians, merchants, and writers—all willing to share the common danger

for the common good; but with untrained horses, and without regular

cavalry drill, they laboured under many disadvantages. About 200 men of

the 3d Europeans remained behind to guard the fort.

At noon, the opposing forces met. The enemy occupied a strong position

behind Shahgunje, with their guns flanking the village, and the cavalry

flanking the guns. The British advanced in line, with their guns on each

flank, the infantry in the middle, and the mounted militia and

volunteers in the rear. When about six hundred yards from the enemy, the

infantry were ordered to lie down, to allow the guns to do their work

against the village, from behind the houses and walls of which the

enemy’s riflemen opened a very destructive fire. It was a bad omen that

women were seen in the village loading the rifles and muskets and

handing them to the mutineers to fire. For two hours an exchange of

artillery-fire was kept up—extremely fierce; shrapnel shells,

round-shot, and grape-shot, filling the air. A tumbril belonging to

D’Oyley’s battery now blew up, disabling one of the guns; the enemy’s

cavalry took advantage of this to gallop forward and charge; but the 3d

Europeans, jumping up, let fly a volley which effectually deterred them.

Most of the officers and soldiers had wished during these two hours for

a bolder course of action—a capture of the enemy’s guns by a direct

charge of infantry. Then followed a rapid musketry-fire, and a chasing

of the enemy out of the village by most of the infantry—the rest

guarding the guns. Unfortunately another tumbril blew up, disabling

another gun; and, moreover, D’Oyley had used up all the ammunition which

had been supplied to him. Upon this the order was given for retreat to

the city; and the retreat was made—much to the mortification of the

troops, for they had really won a victory. The rebels, it was afterwards

known, were themselves out of ammunition, and were just about to retreat

when they saw the retreat of the British; their infantry marched off

towards Muttra, but their cavalry and one gun harassed the British

during their return to the city. The artillery-fire of the mutineers

during the battle was spoken of with admiration even by those who were

every minute suffering from it; the native artillerymen had learned to

use effectively against us those guns which they had been paid and fed

to use in our defence. If the cavalry had been equally effective, the

British would probably have been cut off to a man. This battle of Agra

was a severe one to the British, for one-fourth of the small force were

killed or wounded. The officers suffered much: Majors Prendergast and

Thomas, Captains D’Oyley, Lamb, and Alexander, Lieutenants Pond,

Fellowes, Cockburn, Williams, and Bramley, were wounded, as well as many

gentlemen belonging to the volunteer horse. The loss of Captain D’Oyley

was very much deplored, for he was a great favourite. While managing his

guns, a shot struck him; he sat on the carriage, giving orders, in spite

of his wound; but at last he fell, saying: ‘Ah, they have done for me

now! Put a stone over my grave, and say I died at my guns.’ He sank the

next day.

The British returned to Agra—not to the city, but to the fort; for three

or four thousand prisoners had got loose during the day, and had begun

to fire all the European buildings in the city. Officers and privates,

civilians and ladies, all who wrote of the events at Agra at that time,

told of the wild licence of that day and night. One eye-witness said:

‘Hardly a house has escaped destruction; and such houses and their

contents as were not consumed by fire have been completely gutted and

destroyed by other means. In fact, even if we were to leave the fort

to-morrow, there are not four houses in the place with roofs remaining

under which we could obtain shelter; and as for household property and

other things left outside, there is not a single article in existence in

serviceable order. The very doors and windows are removed, and every bit

of wood torn out, so that nothing remains but the bare brick walls.

Things are strewed about the roads and streets in every direction; and

wherever you move you see broken chairs and tables, carriages in

fragments, crockery, books, and every kind of property wantonly

destroyed.’ An officer of the 3d Europeans, after describing the battle,

and the return of the little force to the fort, said: ‘Immediately

afterwards the work of destruction commenced, the budmashes began to

plunder, bungalows on every side were set on fire—one continued blaze

the whole night. I went out the next morning. ‘Twas a dreadful sight

indeed; Agra was destroyed; churches, colleges, dwelling-houses,

barracks, everything burned.’

But they had something more to think of than the devastation in Agra

city; they had to contemplate their own situation in Agra Fort. Among

the number of Europeans, some had already borne strange adversities. One

officer had escaped, with his wife, in extraordinary guise, from Gwalior

at the time of the mutiny of the Contingent at that place. He had been

obliged to quit his wife at their bungalow in the midst of great danger,

to hasten down to his regiment in the lines; and when he found his

influence with his men had come to naught, and that shots were aimed at

him, three sepoys resolved to save him. They took off his hat, boots,

and trousers, wrapped him in a horse-cloth, huddled him between them,

and passed him off as a woman. They left him on the bank of a stream,

and went to fetch his wife from a position of great peril. She being too

weak to walk, they made up a horse-cloth into a sort of bag, tied it to

a musket, put her into it, shouldered the musket horizontally, and

carried her seven miles—her husband walking by her side, barefoot over

sharp stones. After meeting with further assistance, they reached Agra

somewhat more in comfort. Another officer, who had likewise served in

the Gwalior Contingent, and who had seen much hard service before the

mutiny of his corps compelled him to flee to Agra, counted up the wreck

of his property after the battle of the 5th of July, and found it to

consist of ‘a coat, a shirt, the greater portion of a pair of breeches,

a pair of jack-boots, one sock, a right good sword’—and a cannon-ball

through his leg; yet, recognising the useful truth that grumbling and

complaining are but poor medicines in a time of trouble, he bore up

cheerfully, and even cheered up Mr Colvin, who was at that time nearly

worn to the grave by sickness and anxiety. An officer of the 3d

Europeans said in a letter: ‘I lost everything in the world.... The

enemy went quietly off; but here we are; we can’t get out—no place to go

to—nothing to do but to wait for assistance.’ And a few days afterwards

he added: ‘Here we are like rats in a trap; there are from four to five

thousand people in this fort, military and civil, Eurasians,

half-castes, &c.; and when we shall get out, is a thing to be guessed

at.’ A surgeon of the recently mutinied Gwalior Contingent thus spoke of

what he saw around him: ‘The scene in the fort for the first few days

was a trying one. All the native servants ran off. I had eleven in the

morning, and at night not one. Ladies were seen cooking their own food,

officers drawing and carrying water from the wells, &c. Many people were

ruined, having escaped with only their clothes on their backs. We are

now shut up here, five hundred fighting-men with ammunition, and about

four or five thousand altogether, eagerly awaiting the arrival of

European troops.’ A commissariat officer said: ‘Here we are all living

in gun-sheds and casemates. The appearance of the interior is amusing,

and the streets (of the fort) are named; we have Regent and Oxford

Streets, the Quadrant, Burlington and Lowther Arcades, and Trafalgar

Square.’ The wife of one of the officers described her strange home: ‘We

are leading a very unsettled ship-like life. No one is allowed to leave

the fort, except bodies of armed men. We are living in a place they call

Palace Yard; it is a square, with a gallery round it, having open

arches; every married couple are allowed two arches.... It is no easy

matter to keep our arches clean and tidy.’ As all the Europeans in Agra

went to live in the fort, the number included the staff of the

_Mofussilite_ (’Provincial European’) newspaper, one of the journals

which had for some time been published in that city; the issue for the

3d of July had been printed at the usual office of the paper; but none

other appeared for twelve days, when a _Mofussilite_ was printed within

the fort itself.

There was no exaggeration in the accounts of the number of persons thus

strangely incarcerated. So completely were the Europeans and their

native servants at Agra shut up within the fort, and so much was that

place regarded as a refuge for those who had been forced to flee from

other stations, that it gradually became crowded to an extraordinary

degree. On the 26th of July Mr Colvin determined to take a census of all

the persons who slept within the fort on that night; he did so, and

found them to amount to no less a number than 5845[71]—all of whom had

to be supplied with their daily food under military or garrison

arrangements. More than 2000 of the number were children, who could

render little or no return for the services so anxiously demanded by and

for them. Provided, however, the supply of food and other necessaries

were sufficient, the danger of the position was not at all comparable to

that of Sir Hugh Wheeler at Cawnpore or of Brigadier Inglis at Lucknow.

The fort at Agra (see wood-cut, p. 109) was a very large structure, a

sort of triangle whose sides extended from three to five eighths of a

mile each; it contained numerous large buildings within the walls, of

which the chief were the palace of Shahjehan, the Hall of Audience built

by the same emperor, and the Moti Musjid or Pearl Mosque. All the

buildings were at once appropriated, in various ways, to the wants of

the enormous number of persons who sought shelter therein. The defences

of the place, too, were greatly strengthened; sixty guns of heavy

calibre were mounted on the bastions; thirteen large mortars were placed

in position; the powder-magazines were secured from accidental

explosion; the external defences were improved by the levelling of many

houses in the city which approached too near the fort; and preparations

were completed for blowing up the superb Jumma Musjid (p. 229) if any

attempt were made by a hostile force to occupy it, seeing that its upper

ranges commanded the interior of the fort. The only insurgent force at

that time in possession of guns and mortars powerful enough to breach

strong walls was the Gwalior Contingent; and even if Scindia lost all

hold over that force, Agra was provisioned for ten months, and had

ammunition enough to stand a whole year’s siege. An officer of a

mutinied Gwalior regiment, writing from Agra after some weeks’

confinement, said: ‘Almost all the roads are closed, and it is only by

secret messengers and spies that we can get any intelligence of what is

going on in the convulsed world around us. My letters from Scotland used

to reach me in thirty days; now if I get one in eighty days I

congratulate myself on my good-luck.... As for this fort, we can hold it

against any number for months; our only fear being for the women and

children, who would suffer much, and of whom we have some three

thousand. The health of the troops, &c., is, thank God, excellent, and

the wounded are doing well.’ Nevertheless, with all their sense of

security, the Europeans within the fort had enough to do to maintain

their cheerfulness. On the day and night of the 5th of July, property

had been burned and despoiled in the city to an enormous amount; and

most of this had belonged to the present inmates of the fort. The

merchants had been prosperous, their large shops had abounded with the

most costly articles of necessity and luxury—and now nearly all was

gone. The military officers had of course less to lose, but their

deprivation was perhaps still more complete.

Throughout July and August the state of affairs thus continued at Agra.

The danger was small, but the discomforts of course numerous. Mr Colvin

sent repeated applications for a relieving force. There was, however,

none to aid him. His health failed greatly, and he did not bear up

against the anxieties of his position with the cheerful firmness

exhibited by many other of the officials at that trying time. Brigadier

Polwhele, former military commandant, was superseded by Colonel Cotton

when the account of the battle of the 5th of July became known at

Calcutta. Occasional sallies were made from the fort, to punish isolated

bodies of rebels at Futtehpore Sikri, Hattrass, and Allygurh; but the

European troops were too few to be very effective in this way. The most

note-worthy exploit took place during the latter half of August, when Mr

Colvin requested Colonel Cotton to organise a small force for driving

some mutineers from Allygurh. Major Montgomery set forth with this

miniature army,[72] reached Hattrass on the 21st, and there learned that

6000 mutineers, under Ghose Mahomed Khan, náib or lieutenant of the King

of Delhi, were prepared to resist him at Allygurh. Montgomery marched

from Allygurh to Sarsnee on the 23d, rested for the night in an indigo

factory and other buildings, and advanced on the following day to

Allygurh. There ensued a sharp conflict of two hours’ duration, in

gardens and enclosures outside the town; it ended in the defeat and

dispersion of the enemy, who left 300 dead on the field. The battle was

a gallant affair, worthy of ranking with those of Havelock; for

Montgomery contended against twenty times his own number; and, moreover,

many of the troops among the enemy were Ghazees or fanatic Mussulmans

who engaged fiercely in hand-to-hand contests with some of his troops.

His detachment of men was too small to enable him to enter and reoccupy

Allygurh: he was obliged to leave that place in the hands of the rebels,

and to return to Hattrass; but having replenished his stock of

ammunition and supplies, he advanced again to Allygurh, held it for

several days, and left a detachment there when he took his departure.

Taking leave for the present of Agra, we may briefly state that almost

every other city and station in that part of India was in the hands of

the enemy during the months of July and August. Delhi was still under

siege; but there was scarcely a British soldier in any part of the Delhi

division except in the siege-camp before Delhi itself. In the Agra

division, as we have just seen, British influence extended very little

further than the walls of Agra Fort. In the Meerut division, the station

at that town was still held; the military lines were strongly fortified,

and supplied with provisions to an extent sufficient to remove immediate

anxiety. The region between Delhi and the Sutlej, containing Hansi,

Hissar, Sirsa, and other towns, was fortunately kept in some order by a

column under General Van Cortlandt, which moved quickly from place to

place, and put down a swarm of petty chieftains who were only too ready

to take advantage of the mutinies of the native troops. In the Rohilcund

division scarcely a town, except up in the hills, remained under British

control.

Welcome as was the refuge which the wives and children of officers found

at the hill-stations in the Rohilcund and Cis-Sutlej provinces, their

tranquillity was frequently disturbed by the movements of rebels. Early

in August the civil commissioner of Kumaon received intelligence that an

attack was contemplated on Nynee Tal by Kalee Khan, one of the myrmidons

of Khan Bahadoor Khan of Bareilly, who had 3000 rabble with him; the

plunder and destruction of the station being the main objects in view.

Captain Ramsey, commandant at Nynee Tal, and Colonel M’Causland,

commanding the troops in the various stations of Kumaon, at once

determined to remove the ladies and children, two hundred in number,

from Nynee Tal to Almora, further away from Bareilly: this was done; and

then the colonel prepared to meet the mutineers, and confront them with

a detachment of the 66th Goorkhas. Kalee Khan set forth on his mission;

but when he heard that M’Causland was calmly waiting for him, he changed

his plan, returned to Bareilly, and avoided a conflict, the probable

result of which presented itself very clearly to his mind. At Nynee Tal,

at Almora, at Mussouree, at Simla, and at other places among the cool

hilly regions, ladies and children were assembled in large numbers, some

with their husbands and fathers, but many sent away from scenes of

strife in which those dear to them were compelled to engage. It was not

all idle hopelessness with them. Englishwomen can always find some

useful service to render, and are always ready to render it. A lady,

writing from Mussouree on the 9th of August, said: ‘We are very busy

working flannel clothes for our army before Delhi. They are very badly

off for these things; and being so much exposed at such a season of the

year, and in such a proverbially unhealthy locality, and fighting as

they have done so nobly, they really deserve to be provided for by us.’

After enumerating the sums subscribed towards this object from various

quarters, the writer went on to say: ‘Mrs —— and myself are constantly

at work; for, with the exception of our tailors, and one or two others

given up to us by ladies, we can get none.... Wonderful to say, though I

never did such a thing in my life before, I have the management of our

portion of the business, which keeps me employed from early morning till

late at night. We meet, with several other ladies, at ——‘s house every

day, with as many tailors as we can collect, and stitch away.’

The great and important country of the Punjaub, though not free from

disturbance, was kept pretty well under control during July and August,

by the energy of Sir John Lawrence and the other officers of the

Company. We have seen[73] that on the 13th of May the 16th, 26th, and

49th regiments of Bengal native infantry, and the 8th Bengal cavalry,

were disarmed at Meean Meer, a cantonment six miles from the city of

Lahore; that on the same day the 45th and 57th native infantry mutinied

at Ferozpore, while the 10th cavalry was disarmed; that during the same

week, Umritsir, Jullundur, and Phillour were only saved from mutiny by

the promptness and spirit of some of the officers; that on the 20th, the

55th native infantry mutinied at Murdan in the Peshawur Valley; that

consequent upon this, the 24th, 27th, and 51st native infantry, and the

5th native cavalry, were on the 22d of the month disarmed in the station

of Peshawur itself; that early in June, the 4th native regiment was

disarmed at Noorpore; that on the 6th, the 36th and 61st native

infantry, and the 6th native cavalry, mutinied at Jullundur, and marched

off towards Phillour; that the 3d native cavalry, at the last-named

station, mutinied on the following day, unable to resist the temptation

thrown out to them by those from Jullundur; that the 14th native

infantry mutinied at Jelum on the 7th of July, maintaining a fierce

fight with a British detachment before their departure; that on the same

day the 58th native infantry, and two companies of the 14th, were

disarmed at Rawul Pindee; that on the 9th, the 46th native infantry, and

a wing of the 9th native cavalry, mutinied at Sealkote, and decamped

towards Delhi; that towards the close of July, the disarmed 26th

mutinied at Meean Meer, murdered Major Spencer, and marched off with the

intention of strengthening the insurgents at Delhi; that on the 19th of

August, a portion of the disarmed 10th cavalry mutinied at Ferozpore;

and that on the 28th of the same month, the disarmed 51st mutinied at

Peshawur, fled to the hills, and were almost annihilated. It thus

appears that about a dozen regiments mutinied in the Punjaub between the

middle of May and the end of August; that some of these had been

previously disarmed; and that others had been disarmed without having

mutinied.

A few additional words may be given here relating to the partial mutiny

at Meean Meer. The four native regiments at that station, disarmed on

the 13th of May, remained in their lines until the 30th of July,

peaceful and without arms. On the last-named day, however, it became

known to the authorities that the men meditated flight. Major Spencer of

the 26th, and two native officers, were killed by the sepoys of that

regiment on that day—with what weapons does not clearly appear. The

murder of the unfortunate English officer deranged the plans of the

troops; all were to have decamped at a given signal; but now only the

26th made off, leaving the other three regiments in their lines. The

authorities, not well knowing whither the fugitives had gone, sent off

three strong parties of mounted police, to Umritsir, Hurrekee, and

Kussoor, the three routes towards the Sutlej. The men, however, had gone

northward; but within a few days they were almost entirely destroyed,

for the villagers aided the police in capturing or shooting the

miserable fugitives as they marched or ran in field and jungle.

Without going over in detail any proceedings already recorded, it may be

convenient to condense in a small space a narrative of Brigadier-general

Nicholson’s operations in the later days of June and the first half of

July with a movable column placed under his command by Sir John

Lawrence. Having disarmed the 33d and 35th B. N. I., for reasons which

appeared to him amply sufficient, he began on the 27th of June to

retrace his steps from Phillour, and on the 5th of July he encamped at

Umritsir, to overawe the 59th B. N. I., and to hold a central position

whence he might march to any threatened point east or west. On the 7th,

hearing of the mutiny of the 14th native infantry at Jelum, and

receiving no satisfactory evidence that Colonel Ellice had been able to

frustrate or defeat the mutineers, he at once resolved on a measure of

precaution. He disarmed the 59th on the following morning—with very

great regret; for he had nothing to censure in the conduct of the men;

he took that step solely on account of the peril which, at such a time,

threatened any station containing Bengal troops without British; and he

added in his dispatch: ‘I beg very strongly to recommend this corps,

both as regards officers and men, to the favourable consideration of

government.’ On the 10th, receiving intelligence that the 46th native

infantry, and a wing of the 9th native cavalry, had mutinied at

Sealkote, Nicholson at once disarmed the other wing of the same cavalry

regiment, which formed part of his column. In the course of the same day

he learned that the Sealkote mutineers intended to march eastward,

through Goordaspore, Noorpore, Hoshyapoor, and Jullundur, to

Delhi—endeavouring to tempt to mutiny, on their way, the 2d irregular

cavalry at Goordaspore, the 4th native infantry at Noorpore, and the

16th irregular cavalry at Hoshyapoor. The problem thence arose—could

Nicholson intercept these mutineers before they reached Goordaspore? He

found he would have to make a forced march of forty miles in a northeast

direction to effect this. He did so, by energetic exertions, in twenty

hours. He came up with them at the Trimmoo ford over the Ravee, nine

miles from Goordaspore, on the 12th of July—his force now consisting of

H.M. 52d foot, 184 men of the Punjaub infantry, a company of the police

battalion, a few irregular horse, a troop of artillery, and three guns.

Nicholson defeated them after a short but sharp conflict on the river’s

bank; but his horsemen were not trustworthy, and he could not pursue the

enemy. About 300 mutineers, with one gun, took post on an island in the

river; these, by a well-planned movement, were almost entirely

annihilated on the 16th—and the ‘Sealkote mutineers’ disappeared from

the scene. It was with justice that the active leader thanked his troops

on the following day: ‘By a forced march of unusual length, performed at

a very trying season of the year, the column has been able to preserve

many stations and districts from pillage and plunder, to save more than

one regiment from the danger of too close a contact with the mutineers;

while the mutineer force itself, 1100 strong, notwithstanding the very

desperate character of the resistance offered by it, has been utterly

destroyed or dispersed.’

Let us now, as in a former chapter, glance at the state of affairs in

the vast region of India southward of the Ganges, the Jumna, and the

Sutlej—passing over Sinde without special mention, as being nearly free

from disturbing agencies. The reader will remember[74] that among the

various states, provinces, and districts of Nagpoor, Hyderabad,

Carnatic, Madras, Bombay, Holkar, Scindia, Rajpootana, &c., some became

subject to anarchy in certain instances during the month of

June—especially the three last-named states; and we have now to shew

that this anarchy continued, and in some cases extended, during July and

August; but it will also be made manifest that the amount of insurgency

bore a very small ratio to that in the stormy districts further north.

Of Southwestern Bengal, Orissa, and Nagpoor, it is scarcely necessary

here to speak. The native troops were not influenced by a hostility so

fierce, a treachery so villainous, as those in Hindostan proper; there

were not so many zemindars and petty chieftains who had been wrought up

to irritation by the often questionable appropriations and annexations

of the Company; and there was easier access for the troops of the Madras

presidency, who, as has already been more than once observed, had small

sympathy with the petted sepoys and sowars of the larger presidency. The

mutinies or attempts at mutiny, in these provinces, were of slight

character during July and August. Mr Plowden, commissioner of Nagpoor,

was enabled, with troops sent by Lord Harris from Madras, not only to

maintain British supremacy throughout that large country (nearly equal

in size to England and Scotland combined), but also to assist Major

Erskine in the much more severely threatened territory of Saugor and

Nerbudda, lying between Nagpoor and the Jumna.

The Madras presidency remained almost entirely at peace. Not only did

the native troops hold their faith with the government that fed and paid

them, but they cheerfully volunteered to serve against the mutinous

Bengal sepoys in the north. On the 3d of July the governor in council

issued a proclamation, announcing that several regiments had expressed

their desire to be employed in the Northwest Provinces or wherever else

their services might be required; that thanks would be publicly awarded

to the native officers and men of all the regiments who had thus come

forward; and that the favourable attention of the supreme government

towards them would be solicited. The corps that thus proffered their

services were the 3d, 11th, 16th, and 27th Madras native infantry, the

3d and 8th Madras native cavalry, a company of native foot-artillery, a

troop of native horse-artillery, and a detachment of native sappers and

miners. Many of these afterwards rendered good service in the battles

which distinguished—and we may at the same time add devastated—Northern

and Central India. Four days afterwards, Lord Harris was able to

announce that other regiments—the 17th, 30th, 36th, and 47th native

infantry, and the 5th native cavalry—had in a similar way come forward

‘to express their abhorrence of the traitorous conduct of the mutineers

of the Bengal army, and their desire to be employed wherever their

services may be required.’ Besides thus providing faithful soldiers, the

governor of Madras was in a position, at various times during July and

August, to send large supplies of arms, ammunition, and camp-equipage,

from Madras to Calcutta. In the city of Madras itself, and in the

various southern provinces and countries of Carnatic, Tanjore,

Travancore, Canara, Malabar, and Mysore, the same exemption from mutiny

was experienced. There were, it is true, discontents and occasional

plottings, but no formidable resistance to the British power. Many

persons there were who, without being rebels or open malcontents,

thought that the Company had dealt harshly with the native princes, and

were on that account deterred from such hearty sympathy with the British

as they might otherwise possibly have manifested. An officer in the

Madras army, writing when the mutiny was four months old, stated that in

the previous February, when that terrible movement had not yet

commenced, he went one day to take a sketch of a mosque, or rather a

collection of mosques, in the suburbs of Madras—tombs that were the

memorials of past Mussulman greatness. His conversation with an old man

of that faith[75] left upon his mind the impression that there was a

sentiment of injury borne, rights violated, nationality disregarded,

conveyed in the words of his temporary companion.

There was, however, one occurrence in the Madras presidency which gave

rise to much uneasiness. The 8th Madras native cavalry was ordered to

march from Bangalore to Madras, and there embark for Calcutta. On

arriving at a place about twenty-five miles from Madras, on the 17th of

August, the men put forward a claim for the rates of pay, batta, and

pension which existed before the year 1837, and which were more

favourable than those of subsequent introduction. Such a claim, put

forward at such a moment, was very perplexing to the officers; they

hastened to Madras, and obtained the consent of the government to make

conciliatory offers to the men. After a further march of thirteen miles

to Poonamallee, the troopers again stopped, and declared they would not

go forth ‘to war against their countrymen.’ This being an act of

insubordination which of course could not be overlooked, two guns and

some artillerymen were promptly brought forward; the 8th cavalry were

unhorsed and disarmed, and sent to do dismounted duty at Arcot; while

their horses were forthwith shipped to Calcutta, where such accessions

were specially valuable. The affair caused great excitement at Madras;

the volunteers were warned that their services were to be available at a

moment’s notice; patrols were placed in the streets by day and night;

and guns were planted in certain directions. Happily, the prompt

disarming of this turbulent regiment prevented the poison from spreading

further.

[Illustration:

SKETCH MAP

_TO ILLUSTRATE_

HAVELOCK’S OPERATIONS

_DURING JULY & AUGUST_.

1857

_From a Government Survey._

]

Bombay, like its sister presidency Madras, was affected only in a slight

degree by the storms that troubled Bengal and the northwest. The Bombay

troops, though, as the sequel shewed, not altogether equal in fidelity

to those of Madras, did nevertheless pass through the perilous ordeal

very creditably—rendering most valuable service in Rajpootana and other

regions of the north. There was a wealthy and powerful native community

at Bombay—that of the Parsees—which was nearly at all times ready to

support the government, and which greatly strengthened the hands of Lord

Elphinstone by so doing. It consisted of merchants, shipowners, and

bankers, many of whom had made large fortunes in the ordinary way of

trade. Those Parsees may always be distinguished from the other natives

of India by something peculiar in their names—Jamsetjee, Nowrojee,

Cursetjee, Bomanjee, Rustomjee, Hormuzjee, Luxmonjee, Maneekjee,

Sorabjee, Furdoonjee, Soonderjee, Ruttonjee, Wassewdewjee, Dhakjee, &c.

The Parsees are the descendants of those Persians who, refusing to

exchange the religion of Zoroaster for that of Mohammed, migrated to

India more than a thousand years ago; those still remaining in Persia

are few in number and degraded in position; but those at Bombay are

wealthy and active, and bear a high character both morally and

intellectually. The property in the island on which the city of Bombay

stands is chiefly in the hands of the Parsees; and it is usual for the

European commercial firms of Bombay to have a Parsee capitalist as one

of the partners. Although wearing the Asiatic costume, and adhering very

rigidly to their religious customs and observances, the Parsees

assimilate more than other eastern people to the social customs of

Europeans: they nearly all speak English, and have it carefully taught

to their children. There is something remarkable in a Parsee holding the

dignity of a baronet, in English fashion; such was the case a few years

ago, when a Parsee of enormous wealth, and of liberality as great as his

wealth, was made by Queen Victoria a baronet under the title of Sir

Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy. It will at once be seen that such a body as the

Parsees, having little or no sympathy with Hindustani sepoys, and having

their worldly interests much bound up with the English, were likely to

be sources of strength instead of weakness in troubled times. They

headed an address to Lord Elphinstone, signed by about four hundred

natives of various castes and creeds.[76] It was not more adulatory, not

more filled with enthusiastic professions of loyalty, than many

addresses presented to Viscount Canning in Bengal; but it more nearly

corresponded with the conduct of those who signed it.

If Bombay city, however, remained nearly undisturbed during July and

August, there were symptoms that required close watching in various

districts to the north, south, and east. Kolapore, one of the places

here adverted to, is distant about a hundred and eighty miles south from

Bombay. It is the chief place of a raj or state of the same name, and

was in the last century a scene of frequent contest between two Mahratta

princes, the Peishwa of Satara and the Rajah of Kolapore, each of whom

struggled against the claims to superiority put forth by the other.

About half a century ago began those relations towards the Company’s

government, which, as in so many other parts of India, led to the

gradual extinction of the rule of the native rajah; the British govern

‘in the name of the rajah,’ but the rajah’s authority remains in

abeyance. The military force belonging specially to the state, at the

time of the mutiny, amounted to about ten thousand men of all arms. It

was, however, among the Company’s own troops that the disaffection above

adverted to took place. The 27th Bombay native infantry, without any

previous symptoms of disaffection, suddenly mutinied at Kolapore, on the

day of a festival called the Buckree Eed (1st of August); or rather, a

portion of the regiment mutinied. While the officers were assembled in

the billiard-room of their mess-house on the evening of that day, a

jemadar rushed in and informed them that some of the sepoys had risen in

revolt; the officers hastened out; when three of them, ignorant of the

place, or bewildered in the darkness, went astray, and were taken and

murdered by the mutineers. The mother of the jemadar went to the house

of Major Rolland, the commanding officer, to warn the ladies of their

danger, and to afford them means of escape. No sooner had the ladies

hurried away, than the house was surrounded by mutineers, who,

disappointed at finding it empty, revenged themselves by slaughtering

the old woman. After plundering the treasury of forty thousand rupees,

the mutineers retired to a religious edifice in the town, and marched

off in early morning by the Phoonda Ghat towards Wagotun, on the coast.

The native commissioned officers of the regiment remained faithful; none

of them accompanied the mutineers. The outbreak ended most disastrously

to those concerned in it. When they got some distance from Kolapore,

they found themselves without food and without friends; and gradually

nearly all were destroyed by detachments sent against them, headed by

Major Rolland and Colonel Maughan, the latter of whom was British

resident at Kolapore. There were circumstances which justify a belief

that this was not so much a mutiny after the Bengal type, as an

association of the bad men of the regiment for purposes of plunder.

This event at Kolapore threw the whole of the south Mahratta country

into a ferment. At Poonah, Satara, Belgaum, Dharwar, Rutnagherry, Sawunt

Waree, and other places, the threads of a Mohammedan conspiracy were

detected; and fortunately the germs of insurrection were nipped in the

bud. When Mr Rose, commissioner of Satara, found that the deposed royal

family of that state were engaged in plots and intrigues, he took a

small but reliable English force, entered Satara before daylight on the

6th of August, surrounded the palace, and ordered the rajah and the

ranees to prepare for instant departure. Resistance being useless, the

royal prisoners entered phaetons which had been brought for that

purpose, and before eight o’clock they were on the way to Poonah—to be

kept under the eye of the Bombay authorities until the political

atmosphere should become clearer, in a navy depôt on an island near

Bombay city. A plot was about the same time discovered at Poonah,

concerted between the moulvies of that place and of Belgaum, for

massacring the Europeans and native Christians of those stations;

letters were intercepted at the Poonah post-office, which enabled the

authorities to shun the coming evil. Many arrests of Mussulman

conspirators were made; and it was then found that matters had gone so

far as a preparation to blow up the arsenal at Poonah. The authorities

at once disarmed the natives of the cantonment bazaar. From most of the

out-stations, being troubled by these events, the English ladies were

sent by military escort to Bombay or to Poonah. Among other measures of

precaution, the remaining companies of the 27th native regiment were

disarmed at Kolapore and Rutnagherry; and examples of the terrible

‘blowing away from guns’ were resorted to, to check this incipient

revolution. The 28th Bombay native infantry, stationed at Dharwar, and

the 29th, stationed at Belgaum, had been raised at the same time as the

27th; and a few symptoms of insubordination were manifested by sepoys of

those regiments; but the timely arrival of a European regiment restored

quiet. The English were greatly exasperated when the fact came to light

that one of the conspirators detected at Belgaum was a moonshee who had

been receiving a hundred and fifty rupees per month for instructing

officers of regiments in Hindustani.

The three presidencies were all anxiously watching the state of feeling

in the large and important country of Hyderabad, the dominions of the

Nizam; for that country borders on Nagpoor on the northeast; while on

the southeast and on the west it is conterminous with districts

belonging to Madras and to Bombay respectively. Its two largest cities,

Hyderabad in the southeast portion, and Aurungabad in the northwest,

contained many English families belonging to military and civil servants

of the Company; or at least the families were at stations not far from

those cities. By the terms of various treaties between the Nizam and the

Company, the latter had the right of maintaining a large military

cantonment at Secunderabad, a few miles north of Hyderabad city. This

cantonment was three miles in length, and was well provided with

officers’ bungalows and mess-houses, European barracks, sepoy lines,

horse-artillery lines, foot-artillery barracks, native bazaars,

parade-ground, hospitals, arsenal, and all the other requisites for a

large military station. The cavalry lines were two miles north of the

cantonment, at Bowenpilly. The military station for the troops belonging

to the Nizam as an independent sovereign was at Bolarum, somewhat

further away from Hyderabad, but still within easy reach of

Secunderabad. At the time of the mutiny the British resident at

Hyderabad was placed in a position of some difficulty. Although there

was a large force at Secunderabad, it comprised scarcely any British

troops; and therefore, if trouble arose, he could only look to defence

from natives by natives. The capital of the Deccan, or the Nizam’s

territory, comprised within itself many elements of insecurity. The

government and a large portion of the inhabitants were Mohammedan; the

rabble of the city was numerous and ruthless; the Nizam’s own army was

formed on the same model as the contingents which had so generally

mutinied in Hindostan; the Company’s own forces, as just mentioned, were

almost entirely native; and the city and province were at all times

thronged with predatory bands of Rohillas, Afghans, Arabs, and other

mercenaries, in the pay of the nobles and jaghiredars of the Hyderabad

court. It is almost certain that if the Nizam had turned against us,

Southern India would have been in a blaze of insurrection; but he was

faithful; and his chief minister, Salar Jung, steadily supported him in

all measures calculated to put down disturbance. The news of the

rebel-triumph at Delhi set in tumultuous motion the turbulent Mussulmans

of Hyderabad; and it has been well observed that ‘a single moment of

indecision, a single act of impolicy, a single false step, or a single

admission of weakness, might have turned Hyderabad into a Lucknow and

made a second Oude of the Deccan.’ The Nizam, his prime minister, and

the British resident, all brought sagacity and firmness to bear on the

duties of their respective offices; and thus the Deccan and Southern

India were saved. What might have been the case under other

circumstances was foreshadowed by the events of the 17th of July. On the

preceding day, intelligence was received at the Residency, which stands

clear of the city, but at the distance of some few miles from the

British cantonment at Secunderabad, that the mob in the city was much

excited, and that a scheme was on foot to press the Nizam to attack the

Residency. Notice was sent from the Residency to Salar Jung, and

preparations were made. Early in the evening on the 17th, a Rohilla

rabble stole forth from the city, and made for the Residency. An express

was at once sent off to cantonments for aid; and in the meantime the

guard, with three guns, went out to attack the insurgents. Captain

Holmes plied his grape-shot effectively from the three guns; and when

cavalry and horse-artillery arrived from Secunderabad, the Rohillas

received a total discomfiture. This was almost the only approach to a

mutiny that occurred in the portion of the Deccan near the Carnatic

frontier.

Aurungabad, on the Bombay side of the Nizam’s dominions, was, in regard

to mutinies, less important than Hyderabad, because more easily

accessible for European troops; but more important, in so far as the

sepoy regiments of Malwah and Rajpootana were nearer at hand to be

affected by evil temptation. The city is about seventy miles distant

from Ahmednuggur, and a hundred and seventy from Bombay. Uneasiness

prevailed here so early as June. The 1st cavalry and the 2d infantry, of

the corps called the Hyderabad Contingent, were stationed at Aurungabad;

and of these, the former shewed signs of disaffection. Captain Abbott,

commanding the regiment, found on the morning of the 13th that his men

were murmuring and threatening, as if unwilling to act against mutineers

elsewhere; indeed, they had sworn to murder their officers if any

attempt were made to employ them in that way. Fortunately, the

ressaldars—each being a native captain of a troop of cavalry, and there

being therefore as many ressaldars in a regiment as there were troops or

companies—remained faithful; and Captain Abbott, with Lieutenant Dowker,

were enabled to discuss with these officers the state of the regiment.

The ressaldars assured the captain that many of the troopers had begun

to talk loudly about the King of Delhi as their rightful ruler. The

resident at the court of the Nizam, through the military secretary,

Major Briggs, advised Captain Abbott—seeing that no aid could be

expected from any other quarter—to speak in as conciliatory a tone as

possible to the men, and to promise them that they should not be

required to act against the insurgents at Delhi, provided they would be

obedient to other orders. Quiet was in this way restored; but it being a

dangerous precedent thus to allow troops to decide where and against

whom they would choose to fight, Major-general Woodburn, who had been

placed in command of a movable column from Bombay, marched through

Ahmednuggur to Aurungabad. This column consisted of the 28th Bombay

native infantry, the 14th dragoons, Captain Woolcombe’s battery, and a

pontoon train. When Woodburn arrived, he found that the ladies had all

left the Aurungabad station, that the officers were living barricaded in

the mess-room, and that all the Nizam’s troops exhibited unfavourable

symptoms. The first native cavalry, when confronted with Woodburn’s

troops, behaved in a very daring way; and about a hundred of them made

off, owing to the unwillingness of the general to open fire upon them,

although Abbott and Woolcombe saw the importance of so doing.

In the country north of Bombay, and between it and Malwah, many slight

events occurred, sufficient to shew that the native troops were in an

agitated state, as if oscillating between the opposite principles of

fidelity and treachery. It was worthy of note, however, that the troops

thus affected were, in very few instances, those belonging to the

Company’s Bombay army; they were generally contingent corps, or

Mahrattas, or Rajpoots, or men imbued with the same ideas as the

Hindustanis and Oudians. Towards the close of July, a few troopers of

the Gujerat Irregular Horse endeavoured to incite their companions to

mutiny; they failed, and then decamped; but were pursued and captured,

and then hung in presence of their own regiment.

Still further northward lies the country which, under the various names

of Scindia’s territory, Holkar’s territory, Malwah, and Bhopal, has

already been described as the chief seat of the Mahratta power, and

which corresponds pretty nearly with the region marked out by the

Company’s officials as ‘Central India.’ We have seen in former pages[77]

that Scindia, chief of the Mahratta state of which Gwalior is the

capital, offered the aid of his Contingent army to Mr Colvin in May;

that Lieutenant Cockburn, with half a cavalry regiment of this

Contingent, rendered good service in the region around Agra, until the

troopers deserted him; that the fidelity of Scindia to the British alone

prevented his troops generally from joining the rebels, for they

belonged to the same Hindustani and Oudian families, though serving a

Mahratta prince in a Mahratta state; that after certain detachments had

mutinied at Neemuch and elsewhere, the main body rose in revolt at

Gwalior on the 14th of June, murdered some of the English officers,

drove away the rest with their families, and formally threw off all

allegiance to the Company; and that Maharajah Scindia, under

circumstances of great difficulty and peril, managed to keep peace at

Gwalior—retaining and feeding the troops at that place, and yet

discountenancing their mutinous tendencies against the British. If he

had not acted with much tact and judgment, the Gwalior Contingent would

have marched to Agra in a body, and greatly imperiled the British ‘raj.’

Not only did he keep those troublesome troops near him during the

remaining half of June, but also during July and August. Scindia’s

special army, entirely under his own control, were chiefly Mahrattas,

who had little sympathy with the soldiers of the Contingent; but they

were too few in number to put down the latter, and therefore he was

forced to temporise—partly by persuasions and promises, partly by

threats. Major Macpherson, the British political agent, and Brigadier

Ramsey, the military commandant, ceased to have influence at Gwalior; it

was Scindia’s good faith alone that stood the British in stead.

[Illustration:

Mount Aboo—Military Sanitarium in Rajpootana.

]

Holkar’s Mahratta territory, with Indore for its chief city, we have, in

like manner, seen to be troubled with a mutinous spirit in the

Contingent troops, partly owing to temptation from other quarters. We

have briefly shewn in the chapters lately cited, that on the 28th of May

the 15th and 30th Bengal native infantry revolted at Nuseerabad; that on

the 2d of June, influenced by this pernicious example, the 72d B. N. I.,

the 7th regiment of Gwalior Contingent infantry, and the main body of

the 1st Bengal native cavalry, mutinied at Neemuch; that on the 1st of

July, a portion of Holkar’s Contingent rose against the British at

Indore, without his wish or privity, and that he could not get even his

own special troops to act against those of the Contingent; that, on the

evening of the same day, the 23d Bengal native infantry, and one

squadron of the 1st Bengal native cavalry, mutinied at Mhow; and that

numerous British officers and their families were thrown into great

misery by these several occurrences. It now remains to be stated that,

during July and August, Holkar adopted nearly the same course as

Scindia; he remained faithful to the British, and endeavoured to quell

the mutinous spirit among his troops. Holkar possessed, however, less

influence than his brother-chieftain; most of the mutineers from Indore

and Mhow marched to Gwalior, and were only prevented by the shrewdness

of Scindia from extending their march to Agra.

Among the troops in Rajpootana were the Deesa Field Brigade, commanded

towards the close of August by Brigadier Creagh, who had under his

control the troops at Deesa, those at the sanitarium on Mount Aboo, and

those at Erinpoora and other places in the neighbourhood. These places

were thrown into confusion during the last two weeks of the month, by

the mutiny of the Jhodpore legion, consisting partly of cavalry and

partly of infantry. Such of these men as were stationed at Erinpoora,

about 550 in number, rose in mutiny on the 22d. They suddenly threw off

their allegiance; seized the guns; made prisoners of Lieutenant Conolly

and the European serjeants; plundered the bazaar and some of the native

villages; burned all the officers’ bungalows, and destroyed or

appropriated all that they found therein; lived in tents on the

parade-ground for three days; and then marched off in the direction of

Nuseerabad. The cavalry, although forming part of the same legion, and

sharing in the movement, protected the Europeans from the infantry.

Among the latter, it was only the Hindustani portion which revolted;

there were some Bheels in the legion who remained faithful. On the

preceding day (21st), about 100 men of the legion had mutinied at Mount

Aboo; but as there was a detachment of H.M. 83d there, the mutineers did

nothing but hastily escape. A native chieftain, the Rao of Sihori, was

prompt to render any aid he could to Captain Hall at Mount Aboo. Another

portion of the Jhodpore legion was at Jhodpore itself, where the mutiny

placed in great peril Captain Monck Mason, British resident at that

native state; by his energy, he provided an asylum for many ladies and

children who had been driven from other stations; but he himself fell by

the swords of a body of mutinous troopers, under circumstances of

mingled cowardice and brutality.

The state of this part of India during July and August may be summed up

in a few words. By the revolt of the Contingents of Scindia, Holkar, and

Bhopal, and of the Jhodpore legion, English residents were driven from

station to station in much peril and suffering, and English influence

became for a time almost a nullity; but the native chieftains for the

most part remained faithful, even though their troops revolted; and

there were hopes of ultimate success from the arrival of relieving

columns belonging to the Bombay army. Of that army, a few fragments of

regiments occasionally displayed mutinous symptoms, but not to such a

degree as to leaven the whole mass. What the officers felt through the

treachery of the troops, and what their families suffered during all

these strange events, need not again be described; both phases of the

Revolt have received many illustrations in former pages; but this

chapter may fittingly close with two short extracts from letters

relating to the mutinies at the stations of Mhow and Indore. An

artillery officer, commenting on the ingratitude of the sepoys towards

commanders who had always used them well, said: ‘I must not forget to

mention that Colonel Platt was like a father to the men; and that when

he had an opportunity of leaving them and joining a European corps last

summer, the men petitioned him to stay. He had been upwards of thirty

years with them, and when the mutiny took place he had so much

confidence in them that he rode up to their lines before we could get

out. When we found him next morning, both cheeks were blown off, his

back completely riddled with balls, one through each thigh, his chin

smashed into his mouth, and three sabre-cuts between the cheekbone and

temple; also a cut across the shoulder and the back of the neck.’ The

following few words are from the letters of a lady who was among those

that escaped death by flight from Indore: ‘I have already given you an

account of our three days and three nights of wandering, with little

rest and not much food, no clothes to change, burning sun, and deluges

of rain; but —— and I, perhaps, could bear these things better than

others, and suffered less. When we heard the poor famishing children

screaming for food, we could but thank God that ours were not with us,

but safe in England. We found kind friends here, and I am in Mrs ——‘s

clothes; everything we had being gone. The destructive wretches, after

we left Indore, commenced doing all the damage they could—cutting up

carpets with their tulwars, smashing chandeliers, marble tables, slabs,

chairs, &c.; they even cut out the cloth and lining of our carriages,

hacking up the woodwork. The Residency is uninhabitable, and almost all

have lost everything. I might have saved a few things in the hour and a

half that elapsed between the outbreak and our retreat; but I had so

relied on some of our defenders, and felt so secure of holding on, that

flight never for a moment occurred to me.’

Note.

_The British at the Military Stations._—The reader will have

gathered, from the details given in various chapters, that the

stations at which the military servants of the Company resided, in

the _Mofussil_ or country districts, bore a remarkable relation to

the Indian towns and cities. They were in most cases separated from

the towns by distances varying from one mile to ten, and formed

small towns in themselves. Sometimes the civil officers had their

bungalows and cutcheries near these military cantonments; while in

other instances they were in or near the city to which the

cantonment was a sort of appendage. Such, with more or less variety

of detail, was the case at Patna (Dinapoor), Benares (Chunar),

Cawnpore, Lucknow, Allahabad, Furruckabad (Futteghur), Agra, Delhi,

Gwalior, Lahore (Meean Meer), Nagpoor (Kamptee), Indore (Mhow),

Hyderabad (Secunderabad), Moorshedabad (Berhampore), Saugor, &c. The

marked separation between the native and the British portions of the

military stations has been described in a very animated way, by an

able and distinguished correspondent of the _Times_, one of whose

letters contains the following paragraph:

‘For six miles along the banks of the Ganges extend the ruins of the

English station of Cawnpore. You observe how distinct they are from

the city. The palace of the Victoria Regia at Chatsworth is not more

unlike the dirty ditch in which lives the humble duck-weed—Belgravia

is not more dissimilar to Spitalfields—than is the English quarter

of an Indian station to the city to which it is attached. The one is

generally several miles away from the other. There is no common

street, no link to connect the one with the others; and the one

knows nothing of the other. Here are broad roads, lined on each side

with trees and walls, or with park-like grounds, inside which you

can catch glimpses of gaily-painted one-storied villas, of brick,

covered with cement, decorated with Corinthian colonnades,

porticoes, and broad verandahs—each in its own wide park, with

gardens in front, orchards, and out-offices. There are narrow,

tortuous, unpaved lanes, hemmed in by tottering, haggard, miserable

houses, close and high, and packed as close as they can stand (and

only for that they would fall), swarming with a hungry-eyed

population. The mosque and the Hindoo temple are near each other,

but they both shun the church, just as the station avoids the

city.... In the station there are hotels, ball-rooms, magazines,

shops, where all the habits and customs of Europe, sometimes

improved and refined by the influence of the East, are to be found;

and when the cool of the evening sets in, out stream the carriages

and horses and buggies, for the fashionable drive past the long line

of detached villas within their neat enclosures, surrounded by

shadowing groves and rich gardens. They pass the lines or barracks

of the native infantry—a race of whom they know almost less than

they do of the people of the town; and they are satisfied with the

respect of action, with the sudden uprising, the stiff attitude of

attention, the cold salute, regardless of the insolence and dislike

of the eye; they chat and laugh, marry and are given in marriage,

have their horse-races, their balls, their card-parties, their

dinners, their plate, their tradesmen’s bills, their debts; in fact,

their everything that English society has, and thus they lived till

the deluge came upon them. We all know how nobly they stemmed its

force, what heroic struggles they made against its fury. But what a

surprise when it burst in upon them! What a blow to all their

traditions! What a rebuke to their blind confidence! There is at the

moment I write these lines a slight explosion close at hand,

followed by the ascent of some dark columns of earth and bricks into

the air. We are blowing up the Assembly-rooms of Cawnpore in order

to clear the ground in front of the guns of our intrenchment, and

billiard-rooms and ball-rooms are flying up in fragments to the

skies. Is not that a strange end for all Cawnpore society to come

to? Is it not a curious commentary on our rule, and on our position

in India?’

[Illustration:

Native Musicians at a Sepoy station.

]

-----

Footnote 67:

Chaps. ix., x., xi.: pp. 147-191.

Footnote 68:

‘On the morning of the 18th they were not a mile off, so at noon we

marched through the city to meet them. Our force consisted of 160

sepoys and 100 irregular cavalry or sowars, one six-pounder, and eight

men to work it. This gun was an old one that had been put up to fire

every day at noon. I rigged it out with a new carriage, made shot and

grape, and got it all in order. With my gun I kept the fellows in

front in check; but there were too many of them. There were from 2500

to 3000 fighting-men, armed with matchlocks and swords, and many

thousands who had come to plunder. They outflanked us on both sides,

and the balls came in pretty fast. Men and horses were killed by my

side, but, thank God, I escaped unhurt! We retired through the city to

our intrenchments, followed by the enemy. They made several attacks,

coming up every time within a hundred yards; but they could not stand

the grape. At five P.M. they made their last attempt; but a lucky shot

I made with the gun sent them to the right-about. They lost heart, and

were seen no more. We killed from 150 to 200 of them, our own loss

being 18 killed and wounded, and eight horses. All their wounded and a

lot of others were cut up during their retreat by the rascally

villagers, who would have done the same to us had the day gone against

us. Our victory was complete. Not a house in Azimghur was plundered,

and the whole of the rebels have since dispersed. Please God, as soon

as I hear of Lucknow being relieved, I’ll be after them again. They

have paid me the compliment of offering five hundred rupees for my

head.’

Footnote 69:

‘In the evening there was a fearful though causeless panic at Rajghat,

where the intrenchment is being made. The cry arose: “The enemy are

coming.” The workmen, 3000 in number, rushed down the hill as for

their lives. Prisoners who were at work tried to make their escape,

and were with difficulty recovered. Gentlemen ran for their rifles;

the soldiers got under arms; the gunners rushed to their guns; and

altogether, there was indescribable confusion and terror. All this was

the result of a succession of peals of thunder, which were mistaken

for the firing of artillery!’

Footnote 70:

Chapter xi., pp. 177-181.

Footnote 71:

Men. Women. Boys. Girls. Total.

Europeans, 1065 289 344 291 1989

East Indians, 443 331 429 339 1542

Native Christians, 267 177 205 209 858

Hindoos, 942 49 162 4 1157

Mohammedans, 244 10 42 3 299

———— ——— ———— ——— ————

2961 856 1182 846 5845

Footnote 72:

3d Europeans, 154 officers and men.

Artillery, 61 officers and men.

Militia, 22 officers and men.

Jât matchlockmen, 70 officers and men.

Two 9-pounders; one 24-pounder howitzer.

Footnote 73:

Chapter xii., pp. 193-205.

Footnote 74:

Chapter xi., pp. 176-190.

Footnote 75:

‘We were still looking at the scene and speculating upon the tenants

of the tombs, when an old Mussulman came near us with a salam; he

accosted us, and I asked him in whose honour the tomb had been

erected. His reply struck me at the time as rather remarkable. “That,”

said he, pointing to the largest, “is the tomb of the Nawab Mustapha;

he reigned about 100 years ago: and that,” pointing to a smaller

mausoleum near it, “is the tomb of his dewan, and it was he who

counselled the nawab thus: ‘Beware of the French, for they are

soldiers, and will attack and dispossess you of your country; but

cherish the Englishman, for he is a merchant, and will enrich it.’ The

nawab listened to that advice, and see here!” The old man was

perfectly civil and respectful in his manner, but his tone was sad: it

spoke the language of disappointment and hostility, if hostility were

possible. In this case the man referred to our late assumption of the

Carnatic, upon the death of the last nawab, who died without issue. As

a general rule, never was a conquered country so mildly governed as

India has been under our rule; but you can scarcely expect that the

rulers we dispossessed, even though like ourselves they be foreigners,

and only held the country by virtue of conquest, will cede us the

precedence without a murmur.’

Footnote 76:

‘MY LORD—We, the undersigned inhabitants of Bombay, have observed with

sincere regret the late lamentable spread of mutiny and disaffection

among the Bengal native soldiery, and we have read with feelings of

horror and indignation the accounts of the cowardly and savage

atrocities perpetrated by the ruthless mutineers on such unfortunate

Europeans as fell into their hands.

‘While those who have ever received at the hands of government such

unvarying kindness and consideration have proved untrue to their salt

and false to their colours, it has afforded us much pleasure to

observe the unquestionable proof of attachment manifested by the

native princes, zemindars, and people of Upper India in at once and

unsolicited rallying around government and expressing their abhorrence

of the dastardly and ungrateful conduct of the insurgent soldiery.

Equally demanding admiration are the stanchness and fidelity displayed

by the men of the Bombay and Madras armies.

‘That we have not earlier hastened to assure your lordship of our

unchangeable loyalty, and to place our services at the disposal of

government, has arisen from the entire absence in our minds of any

apprehension of disaffection or outbreak on this side of India.

‘We still are without any fears for Bombay; but, lest our silence

should be misunderstood, and with a view to allay the fears which

false reports give rise to, we beg to place our services at the

disposal of government, to be employed in any manner that your

lordship may consider most conducive to the preservation of the public

peace and safety.

‘We beg to remain, my lord, your most obedient and faithful servants,

‘NOWROJEE JAMSETJEE, &c., &c.’

Footnote 77:

Chapter vii., p. 111; chapter xi., pp. 181-189.

[Illustration:

BRIGADIER-GENERAL NICHOLSON.—Copied by permission from a Portrait

published by Messrs Gambart.

]