life in the fortified enclosure. The days exhibited variations in the
degree of danger, but not one really bright gleam cheered the hearts of
the garrison. An advantage had been gained by the successful mining and
blowing up of Johannes’ house, once the residence of a merchant of that
name; it had been a post from which an African eunuch belonging to the
late king’s court had kept up a most fatal and accurate fire into the
enclosure, bringing down more Europeans than any other person in the
enemy’s ranks. An advantage was thus gained, it is certain; but there
were miseries in abundance in other quarters. Gubbins’s house had become
so shot-riddled, that the ladies and children domiciled there were too
much imperiled to remain longer; they were removed to other buildings,
adding to the number of inmates in rooms already sadly overcrowded.
Among the natives in the enclosure, desertions frequently took place; a
fact at which no one could reasonably be surprised, but which
nevertheless greatly added to the labours of those on whom devolved the
defence of the place. Distressingly severe as those labours had all
along been, they were now doubly so; for the enemy erected a new battery
opposite the Bailey guard, and commenced new mines in all directions. As
the defenders could seldom venture on a sortie to examine the enemy’s
works of attack, they were driven to the construction of
‘listening-galleries’—underground passages where the sound of the
enemy’s mining picks and shovels could be heard. And then would be
renewed the digging of countermines, and a struggle to determine which
party should be the first to blow up the other. The Mohurrum or
Mohammedan festival commenced this week; a period in which fanatical
Mussulmans are so fierce against all who dissent from their faith, that
the garrison apprehended a new onslaught with more force than ever; this
fear passed away, however, for though there was much ‘tom-tom’
processioning and buffalo-horn bugling in the city, the attacks on the
enclosure did not differ much from their usual character. Another letter
was received from Havelock, which gave joy to men who found that they
were not wholly forgotten by friends in the outer world; but when they
heard that a period of at least three weeks longer must elapse before he
could possibly reach them, their overcharged hearts sank again, and deep
despondency existed for a time among them.
[Illustration:
English Church and Residency at Lucknow—from Officers’ Quarters.
]
During this month of August, the women and children, the sick and
wounded, of course suffered much more terribly than in the previous
month of July. Every kind of peril and discomfort had increased in
severity; every means of succour and solace had diminished in quantity.
Death struck down many; disease and wounds laid low a still greater
number; and those who remained were a prey to carking cares, which wore
down both mind and body. Those who, in a Christian country, are
accustomed to pay the last token of respect to departed friends by
decent funeral ceremonies, were often pained by their disability to do
so in the Lucknow enclosure, under the straitened circumstances of their
position. The Rev. Mr Polehampton, after working day and night in his
kindly offices among the sick and wounded, was at length himself struck
down by cholera; and then came the mournful question, whether he could
have a coffin and a separate grave. The writer of the _Diary_, wife of
the clergyman who succeeded Mr Polehampton in his duties as a pastor,
says that her husband read the funeral-service over the dead body in
presence of the mourning widow, on the day and in the room where the
death took place, before removal for instant interment. ‘She (the widow)
was extremely anxious he should have a coffin, a wish it seemed
impossible to gratify; but —— instituted a search, and found one stored
away with some old boxes under the staircase in the hospital; and he
also had a separate grave dug for him. Since the siege, the bodies have
hitherto always been buried several in the same grave, and sewn up in
their bedding, as there are no people and no time to make coffins.’ In
their troubled state of feeling, vexations affected the different
members of the imprisoned community more acutely than would have been
the case at other times. The plague of flies can be adverted to in a
half-laughing manner by a man in health; but in the Lucknow enclosure it
was a real plague, a source of exquisite misery, against which more
complaints were uttered than almost anything else. There were also
troublesome and painful boils on the person, brought on by high
temperature and insufficient diet and medicines. Whatever might be the
amount of care taken, bullocks were frequently killed by the shot of the
enemy; and as animals so dying were not fit for human food, it became
necessary to bury the carcasses at once. A frightful duty this was,
mostly performed (as has already been stated) at night by officers,
whose few hours of possible sleep were cut short by this revolting sort
of labour. No one could leave the enclosure, except native servants
determined on escape; not an inch of ground belonged to the British
beyond the limits of the intrenched position; and therefore whatever had
to be put out of sight—dead bodies of human beings, carcasses of
bullocks and horses, garbage and refuse of every kind—could only so be
treated by being buried underground in the few open spots between the
buildings. And this, too, in the August of an Indian climate, when even
the best sanitary arrangements fail to remove offensive odours. The
officers, in all their letters and diaries, spoke of this portion of
their labours as being most distressing; while the poor women, cabined
by dozens together in single rooms, yearned, but yearned in vain, for
the breathing of a little air free from impurities. They dared not move
out, for the balls and bullets of the enemy were whizzing across and
into every open spot. Sometimes an 18-pounder shot would burst into a
room where two or three of them were dressing, or where a larger number
were at meals. In some of the houses or ‘garrisons,’ where many ladies
formed one community, they used to take it in turn to keep awake for
hourly watches during the night; one of them said in a letter: ‘I don’t
exactly know what is gained by these night-watchings—except that we are
all very nervous, and are expecting some dreadful catastrophe to
happen.’ The little children died off rapidly, their maladies being more
than could be met by the resources at hand; and those who bore up
against the afflictions were much emaciated. The husbands and fathers,
worn out with daily fatigue and nightly watching, had little solace to
afford their families; and thus the women and children were left to pass
the weary hours as best they could. A few little creatures,
‘siege-babies,’ as their poor mothers called them, came into the world
during this stormy period; and with them each day was a struggle for
life. When the native servants one by one escaped, the discomforts of
the English women of course underwent much aggravation; and when the
house or bungalow of Mr Gubbins became untenable through shot and
bullet, the difficulty was immense of finding shelter elsewhere; every
place was already overcrowded. Much additional misery befell the
officers and men from this fact—that the commissariat quarter, offensive
to every sense on account of the organic accumulations inseparable from
the slaughtering and cutting up of animals—was one of the weakest parts
in the whole enclosure, and required to be guarded at all hours by armed
men, who loathed the spot for the reason just mentioned. The chaplain,
too, found the church-yard getting into such a horrible state that he
dared not go near the graves to read the funeral-service. Mr Rees
mentions an instance to illustrate the anxieties of those who, willing
to suffer themselves, were almost crushed by witnessing the privations
of those dear to them. ‘He’ (mentioning one of the officers) ‘had at
first told me of his wife being feverish and quite overcome with the
abominable life she had to lead. And then he talked to me of his boy
Herbert; how he was attacked with cholera, and feared he was very ill;
and how, instead of being able to watch by his bedside, he had been all
night digging at Captain Fulton’s mine; and then how his child next
night was convulsed, and what little hope of his darling being spared to
them—how heart-rending the boy’s sufferings were to his parents’
feelings—how even his (the father’s) iron constitution was at last
giving way—how he had neither medicine, nor attendance, nor proper food
for the child—and how the blowing up of the mine so close to his sick
child had frightened him. And then to-day he told me, with tears in his
eyes, that yesterday—the anniversary of his birthday—his poor child was
called away. “God’s will be done,” said he; “but it is terrible to think
of. At night we dug a hole in the garden, and there, wrapped in a
blanket, we laid him.”’ This case is not singular; many another poor
parent’s heart was thus torn.
The provisioning of the garrison was of course a perpetual source of
anxiety to Brigadier Inglis and the other officers; or rather, the
distribution of the food already possessed, and rapidly becoming
exhausted, without any prospect of replenishing. Fresh meat was in store
for the garrison as long as any healthy bullocks remained; but in other
articles of food the deficiency became serious as the month advanced. An
immense store of attah—the coarse meal from which chupatties or cakes
were made—had been provided by Sir Henry Lawrence; but this was now
nearly exhausted, and the garrison had to grind corn daily, from the
store kept in the impromptu granaries. The women and the elder children
were much employed in this corn-grinding, by means of hand-mills. To
economise the meal thus laboriously ground, rice and unground wheat were
served out to the natives. The animal food was likely to be limited, by
the want not of bullocks, but of bhoosa or fodder to feed them; and the
commissariat-officers saw clearly before them the approach of a time
when the poor animals must die for want of food. The tea and sugar were
exhausted, except a little store kept for invalids. The tobacco was all
gone; and the soldiers, yearning for a pipe after a hard day’s work,
smoked dried leaves as the only obtainable substitute. A few casks of
porter still remained, to be guarded as a precious treasure. Once now
and then, when an officer was struck down to death, an auction would be
held of the few trifling comforts which he had been able to bring with
him into the enclosure; and then the prices given by those who possessed
means plainly told how eager was the desire for some little change in
the poor and insufficient daily food. A few effects left by Sir Henry
Lawrence were sold; among them, £16 was given for a dozen bottles of
brandy, £7 for a dozen of beer, the same amount for a dozen of sherry,
£7 for a ham, £4 for a quart bottle of honey, £5 for two small tins of
preserved soup, and £3 for a cake of chocolate. Sugar was the luxury for
which most craving was exhibited.
We pass on now to another month, September, whose early days ushered in
the tenth week of the captivity.
New mines were everywhere discovered. The British, officers and men,
attended sedulously to the underground listening-galleries adverted to
in a former paragraph, and there obtained unmistakable evidence that the
enemy were running mines towards Sago’s house, the Brigade Mess, the
Bailey guard, and other buildings, with the customary intent of blowing
them up, and making a forcible entry into the enclosure. Untiring
exertions at countermining alone frustrated these terrible operations.
On one day, the upper part of the Brigade Mess was smashed in by a shot;
on another, a breach was made in the wall of the Martinière temporary
school, requiring very speedy stockading and barricading to prevent the
entrance of the enemy; on another, a few engineers made a gallant sortie
from Innes’s house, and succeeded in blowing up a building from which
the enemy had maintained an annoying fire of musketry; and on another
day, an officer had the curiosity to count the cannon-balls, varying
from 3 to 24 pounds each, which had fallen on the roof of one building
alone, the Brigade Mess—they were no less than 280 in number! On the 5th
of the month, the enemy made a more than usually impetuous attack; there
were 5000 of them in sight from the Residency; they had formed a battery
on the other side of the river; they exploded two mines near the Bailey
guard and the mess-house; they advanced to Gubbins’s house and to the
Sikh Square, bringing with them long ladders to effect an escalade—in
short, they seemed determined to carry their point on this occasion. All
was in vain, however; the garrison, though worked almost to death,
gallantly rushed to every endangered spot and repelled the enemy,
hastily reconstructing such defence-works as had been destroyed or
damaged. Fortunately, the two exploded mines were short of their
intended distance: they wrought but little damage. Much marching and
countermarching were occasionally visible among the troops in the city:
vague rumours reached the Residency that Havelock had a second time
vanquished Nena Sahib’s troops at Cawnpore or Bithoor; but to what
extent these movements and rumours would influence the garrison was left
painfully undecided. The nights were more terrible than the days; for
the enemy, as if to destroy all chance of sleep, kept up a torrent of
musketry, accompanied by much shouting and screaming. Many of the
officers worked with almost superhuman energy at this time. Captains
Fulton and Anderson, Lieutenants Aitken, Clery, Innes, Hutchinson,
Tulloch, Birch, Hay, and others, were constantly on the watch for mines,
and sedulously digging countermines to foil them.
The eleventh week found the garrison more than ever exposed to hourly
peril. The officers, driven from place to place for their few hours of
repast and repose, had latterly messed in one of the buildings of the
Begum’s Kothee; this fact seemed to be well known to the rebels, who
were from the first better acquainted with what transpired inside the
fort than the garrison were with external affairs; they directed their
shells and balls so thickly on that spot, that ingress and egress were
equally difficult. Two sides of Innes’s house were blown in, and the
whole structure made little else than a heap of ruins; the Residency,
too, became so tottering, that renewed precautions had to be taken in
that quarter; new mines were perpetually discovered, directed to points
underneath the various buildings; and the enemy sought to increase their
means of annoyance by booming forth shells filled with abominable and
filthy compositions. Perhaps the most harassing troubles were owing to
the uncertainty of the time and place when active services would be
needed. The officers could not reckon upon a single minute of peace. ‘In
the midst of all these miseries,’ says Captain Anderson, ‘you would hear
the cry of “Turn out;” and you had to seize your musket and rush to your
post. Then there was a constant state of anxiety as to whether we were
mined or not; and we were not quite sure, whilst we were at a loophole,
that we might not suddenly see the ground open, or observe the whole
materials of the house fly into the air by the explosion of a mine.
Shells came smashing into our rooms, and dashed our property to pieces;
then followed round-shot, and down tumbled huge pieces of masonry, while
hits of wood and brick flew in all directions. I have seen beds
literally blown to atoms, and trunks and boxes completely smashed into
little bits.’ Nevertheless, there was no flinching in the garrison; if a
mine were discovered, a countermine was run out to frustrate it; if a
wall or a verandah were knocked down by shot, the débris was instantly
used to form a rampart, barricade, or stockade. On the 14th of the
month, a loss was incurred which caused grief throughout the garrison.
Captain Fulton, whose indomitable energy had won the admiration of all
in his duties as engineer, and whose kindness of manner had rendered him
a general favourite, was struck by a cannon-ball which took his head
completely off. Brigadier Inglis felt this loss sensitively, for Fulton
had been to him an invaluable aid in all his trials and difficulties.
Fulton, who was especially marked by his skill and promptness in
countermining, had succeeded Major Anderson as chief-engineer, and was
himself now succeeded by Captain Anderson.
The twelfth week, the last which the beleaguered English were destined
to suffer before the one which was to bring Havelock and Neill to
Lucknow, found them in great despondency. They had lately lost a number
of valuable officers. Lieutenant Birch fell; then M. Deprat, a merchant
who worked and fought most valiantly at the defences; then Captain
Cunliffe; and then Lieutenant Graham, whose mental firmness gave way
under privation, grief, and wounds, leading him to commit suicide. As a
natural consequence of these and similar losses, harder work than ever
pressed on those who remained alive. Never for a moment was the look-out
neglected. At all hours of the day and night, officers were posted on
the roofs of the Residency and the post-office, finding such shelter as
they could while watching intently the river, the bridges, the roads,
and the buildings in and around the city; every fact they observed,
serious in its apparent import, was at once reported to Brigadier
Inglis, who made such defensive arrangements as the circumstances made
desirable, and as his gradually lessened means rendered possible. What
were the sleepless nights thus added to harassing days for the
responsible guardian of the forlorn band, may to some extent be
conceived. The enemy’s batteries were now more numerous than ever. They
were constructed near the iron bridge; in a piece of open ground that
formerly comprised the Residency kitchen-garden; near a mosque by the
swampy ground on the river’s bank; in front of a range of buildings
called the Captan Bazaar; in the Taree Kothee opposite the Bailey guard;
near the clock-tower opposite the financial office; in a garden and
buildings opposite the judicial office and Anderson’s house; in numerous
buildings that bore upon the Cawnpore Battery and the Brigade Mess; in
fields and buildings that commanded Gubbins’s house; and in positions on
the northwest of the enclosure—in other words, the whole place was
surrounded by batteries bristling with mortars and great guns, some or
other of which were almost incessantly firing shot and shell into it.
And what, the reader may anxiously ask, was the domestic or personal
life of the inmates of the enclosure during these three weeks of
September? It was sad indeed—beyond the former sadness. If the men
toiled and watched in sultry dry weather, they were nearly overcome by
heat and noisome odours; if they slept in the trenches in damp nights
after great heat, they suffered terribly in their limbs and bones, for
they had neither tents nor change of clothing. Such was the state to
which the whole of the ground was brought, by refuse of every kind, that
a pool resulting from a shower of rain soon became an insupportable
nuisance; sanitary cleansings were unattainable by a community who had
neither surplus labour nor efficient drains at command. Half the
officers were ill at one time, from disease, over-fatigue, and
insufficient diet; and when they were thus laid prostrate, they had
neither medicines nor surgeons sufficient for their need. There was not
a sound roof in the whole place. On one day a cannon-ball entered at one
end of the largest room in the hospital, traversed the whole length, and
went out at the other—but, singular to relate, it did not hurt one human
being in the whole crowded apartment. In the commissariat department,
some of the bullocks yet remaining fell sick through privations, others
were shot; thereby lessening the reserve store, and adding to the
repulsive night-duties of the officers already adverted to. Of the few
native servants still remaining, hardly one now could be retained; and
the saving of their simple food was an inadequate counterbalance for the
loss of their assistance in drudgery labours. There were not, however,
wanting proofs of a fact abundantly illustrated in many walks of
life—the moral healthiness of useful employment. One of the ladies,
whose early weeks in the Residency had been weeks of misery, afterwards
wrote thus: ‘I now find every hour of the day fully occupied. It is a
great comfort to have so much to do, and to feel one’s self of some
little use; it helps one to keep up one’s spirits much better than would
otherwise be possible under the circumstances.’ The live-stock, the rum,
the porter, were all getting low; tea, sugar, coffee, and chocolate had
long disappeared from the rations. Such officers and civilians as had
money in their pockets, were willing to give almost any prices for the
few luxuries still remaining in private hands, in order that they might
in some degree alleviate the sufferings of their wives and children.
Forty shillings were eagerly given for a bottle of brandy; thirty-two
for a bottle of curaçoa; forty for a small fowl; sixteen shillings per
pound were offered, but offered in vain, for sugar; two shillings a
pound for coarse flour; ten shillings a pound for a little half-rancid
butter or ghee; tobacco, four shillings _a leaf_; a bottle of pickles,
forty shillings. Mr Rees sold a gold watch to a companion who had money
to spare, and with it purchased the luxury of smoking cigars at two
shillings each; but when those bits of rolled tobacco-leaf commanded
three rupees or six shillings each, he bade adieu to his last remaining
source of personal enjoyment. What any one _gave_, he gave out of kind
sympathy to his suffering companions; but what he _sold_, he sold in the
usual commercial spirit to the highest bidder. The attire was reduced to
the most piteous condition. Many of the officers had found much of their
clothing burned nearly four months earlier, during the mutiny at the
cantonment; and the troubles of June had prevented them from making
purchases in the city before the arrival of the day when they were all
alike to be shut up in the enclosure. As a consequence, their remaining
clothes wore away to rags, or something worse. There was scarcely a
vestige of a military uniform visible throughout the place. Officers
worked and fought, dined and slept, in shirt, trousers, and slippers;
one made himself a coat out of a billiard table-cloth; and another
contrived a sort of shirt out of a piece of floor-cloth. When the
trifling effects of one of the deceased officers came to be examined and
sold, a little underclothing was sought for with an eagerness which
sumptuous garments would not have excited; four pounds sterling were
given for a new flannel-shirt, and twelve pounds for five others which
had already rendered much service.
Joy, joy beyond expression rang through the enclosure when, on the 21st
of September, the rumour ran round that a messenger had arrived with
good news. Inglis had, a few days before, sent off a spy on the
often-tried but generally unsuccessful attempt to carry a small note
(enclosed in a quill); the peril had been great, but the man safely
returned with a small written reply from Havelock, announcing that
Outram and himself were on the road from Cawnpore, and expected to reach
Lucknow in three or four days. Hearts were filled to overflowing with
this announcement. Many wept for joy, some laughed and shouted, more
sank on their knees in thanksgiving, while the sick and wounded rose
from their pallets, as if wondrously strengthened by the glad tidings.
All worked hard and vigorously, in their respective ways, to prepare for
the struggle inevitable on any attempt of the two generals to penetrate
through the streets of the city; the inmates of the garrison could not,
it is true, leave their stronghold to join in the fight, but they might
possibly aid when the forlorn-hope was approaching the Bailey guard, the
probable place of entrance. The 22d passed over in hopes and fears,
expectations and preparations. On the 23d, musketry was heard on the
Cawnpore road, and much agitation was visible within the city. On the
next day, cannonading and musketry were again heard; and then were the
garrison rejoiced at seeing multitudes escaping out of the city, and
over the bridge to the other side of the river—rejoiced, because this
movement denoted success on the part of the advancing British.
The 25th arrived—the day of deliverance! Prodigious agitation and alarm
had marked the city all night: movements of men and horses, and all the
indications of a city in commotion. At noon, the increasing sounds told
that street-fighting was going on; those who went on the top of the
Residency for a look-out could see the smoke of musketry, but nothing
else. As the afternoon advanced, the sounds came nearer and nearer;[101]
then was heard the sharp crack of rifles; then was gradually perceived
the flash of musketry; and then the well-known uniforms of a friendly
hand. Outram and Havelock, when they had fought their way over the canal
by the Char Bagh Bridge (bridge of the ‘four gardens’), intended to have
taken the straight road to the Residency; but this road had been blocked
up by the enemy with guns, palisades, stockades, barricades, concealed
pits and trenches, and other obstacles. The two generals therefore
diverged to the right, marched along a by-road to the eastern part of
the city, and there fought their way through a continuous line of
streets to the Bailey guard entrance of the Residency enclosure,
suffering terribly as they went.[102] Great was the shout with which
they were welcomed, and warm the grasp with which Inglis thanked his
deliverers. ‘The immense enthusiasm,’ says Mr Rees, ‘with which they
were greeted defies description. As their hurrah and ours rang in my
ears, I was nigh bursting with joy.... We felt not only happy, happy
beyond imagination, and grateful to that God of mercy who, by our noble
deliverers, Havelock and Outram, and their gallant troops, had thus
snatched us from imminent death; but we also felt proud of the defence
we had made, and the success with which, with such fearful odds to
contend against, we had preserved, not only our own lives, but the
honour and lives of the women and children intrusted to our keeping. As
our deliverers poured in, they continued to greet us with loud
hurrahs.... We ran up to them, officers and men without distinction, and
shook them by the hands—how cordially, who can describe? The shrill
notes of the Highlanders’ bagpipes now pierced our ears. Not the most
beautiful music ever was more welcome, more joy-bringing. And these
brave men themselves, many of them bloody and exhausted, forgot the loss
of their comrades, the pain of their wounds, the fatigue of overcoming
the fearful obstacles they had combated for our sakes, in the pleasure
of having accomplished our relief.’ What the women felt on this day, the
_Lady’s Diary_ will tell us. ‘Never shall I forget the moment to the
latest day I live. It was most overpowering. We had no idea they were so
near, and were breathing air in the portico as usual at that hour,
speculating when they might be in—not expecting they could reach us for
several days longer; when suddenly, just at dark, we heard a very sharp
fire of musketry close by, and then a tremendous cheering. An instant
after, the sound of bagpipes, then soldiers running up the road, our
compound and verandah filled with our deliverers, and all of us shaking
hands franticly, and exchanging fervent “God bless you’s!” with the
gallant men and officers of the 78th Highlanders. Sir James Outram and
staff were the next to come in, and the state of joyful confusion and
excitement was beyond all description. The big, rough-bearded soldiers
were seizing the little children out of our arms, kissing them with
tears rolling down their cheeks, and thanking God they had come in time
to save them from the fate of those at Cawnpore. We were all rushing
about to give the poor fellows drinks of water, for they were perfectly
exhausted; and tea was made down in the Tye Khana, of which a large
party of tired, thirsty officers partook, without milk or sugar; we had
nothing to give them to eat. Every one’s tongue seemed going at once
with so much to ask and to tell; and the faces of utter strangers beamed
upon each other like those of dearest friends and brothers.’
After a night, in which joy kept many awake whom fatigue would have else
sent into a deep sleep, the dawn of the 26th ushered in a day in which
there was again to be much severe fighting; for some of Havelock’s
heroic little band had been left in palatial buildings outside the
Residency enclosure, which they managed to hold during the night. To
succour these comrades, to bring in the guns which they had guarded, and
to obtain firm possession of the buildings, were objects that required
great exertion and daring courage. The attempt succeeded. The palaces of
Fureed Buksh and Taree Kothee were conquered from the enemy, and formed
into new intrenched positions, which greatly relieved the overcrowded
Residency. When the further conquest of the Chuttur Munzil palace and
other buildings near the river-side had been effected, the position held
by the British was thrice as large in area as that which Brigadier
Inglis had so long and so gallantly defended. It lay along the
river-bank for a considerable distance; while on the other side it was
bounded by a dense mass of the streets constituting the main portion of
the city.
One of the results of Havelock and Outram’s advance was the capture of
an important outpost. At a spot three or four miles out of Lucknow, near
the new road from Cawnpore, was the Alum Bagh, the ‘garden of the Lady
Alum or beauty of the world.’ It comprised several buildings, including
a palace, a mosque, and an emambarra or private temple, bounded by a
beautiful garden, which was itself in the middle of a park, and the park
enclosed in a wall with corner towers. There was abundant space within
it for a large military force, and it was susceptible of being made a
stronghold if the defences were well maintained. Havelock, on his
advance from Cawnpore, found the enemy drawn up in considerable
strength, within and without the wall of the Alum Bagh; and it was only
after a hot and fierce contest that he could capture the place. He
encamped there on the night of the 23d, and had to bear many attacks
from the enemy near the same spot on the 24th. On the 25th he advanced
to Lucknow, and maintained the sanguinary street-fight already noticed.
The Alum Bagh was too important a place to be abandoned when once
conquered. Havelock left there the baggage, ammunition, sick, and
wounded, of his relieving force; with 300 men to protect them, and an
immense array of elephants, camels, horses, camp-followers, and laden
carts; and with four guns to aid in the defence. No one for an instant
supposed that that detachment would be left there without further aid.
Havelock and his men fully expected, that, Lucknow once conquered, the
Alum Bagh would simply be one of the strongholds of his position with
which he could communicate when he pleased. Little did he look forward
to the state of things actually produced, when the occupants of the Alum
Bagh were so completely isolated from the British in the city, that they
could not send even a message, unless by good-fortune a _kossid_ or
native messenger succeeded in conveying, in a quill or in the sole of
his shoe, a brief letter from the one place to the other.
This isolated position of the little garrison at Alum Bagh was,
moreover, only one among many grave subjects that speedily presented
themselves for consideration. After the first outburst of thankfulness
at the arrival of the welcome deliverers, the residents in the Lucknow
intrenchment had to ask themselves to what extent it was really a
deliverance. Then did they find that, in effect, they were as close
prisoners as ever. Havelock had lost nearly one-third of his small force
during the desperate encounters of the past few days; and those who
survived were far too weak for any considerable military operations. The
one great, absorbing, sacred, deeply earnest object he had all along
held in view, was to save his fellow-countrymen, their wives and
children, from horrors such as had been perpetrated at Cawnpore. To his
dying day he remained deeply grateful that he had been permitted to
effect this; but what more could he do? Could he remain a conqueror in
Lucknow, or could he bring away from that city all those who for four
months had been exposed to such peril! He could do neither the one nor
the other. The result of the fighting on the 25th and 26th of September
had given to him the command of a larger portion of the city than the
Residency enclosure, which had been so long and so gallantly maintained
by Inglis; but he could neither gain another inch without struggling for
it, nor retain the portion already acquired without incessant
watchfulness and assiduity. Nor could he make the Residency and the Alum
Bagh component parts of one great stronghold, seeing that the British
were alike besieged in the one and the other, and could not hold
intercommunication. Nor could he send the women and children to
Allahabad or any other place of safety; they would all have been cut to
pieces on the road, so small was the escort he could afford, and so
overwhelming the force of the enemy. The whole of the immediate benefit
consisted in an increase in the number of British for the defence-works;
but as these hard-working and hard-fighting troops brought little or no
supplies further than the Alum Bagh, there was an increase rather in the
number of mouths to be fed than in the means of feeding them. The
disappointment of Inglis’s garrison, after the first joy had passed, was
very severe. Captivity and short commons were still to be their lot.
Many councils of war were held, to determine what should be done. A
party of volunteer cavalry on one day set out with the intention of
cutting their way to the Alum Bagh, and perhaps to Cawnpore, to seek for
reinforcements and to give notice of the exact state of affairs; but
they were driven back almost immediately, by a body of rebels too large
to be resisted. Sir James Outram sought to ascertain whether any of the
influential natives in the city were disposed, by tempting offers, to
render him and his companions aid in their difficulties; but here in
like manner failure resulted. The scene was very miserable until
something like order could be restored. The poor fellows who had fallen
on the 25th and 26th had been brought into the intrenchment, some to be
buried, some to be healed if possible. The authoress of the _Lady’s
Diary_ said: ‘The hospital is so densely crowded, that many have to lie
outside in the open air, without bed or shelter. —— says he never saw
such a heart-sickening scene. It is far worse than that after
Chinhut—amputated arms and legs lying about in heaps all over the
hospital, and the crowd and confusion such that little can be done to
alleviate the intense discomfort and pain of the poor sufferers.’
It might be interesting to surviving friends, but would be tedious to
general readers, to present here a list of all the persons mentioned by
name in Brigadier Inglis’s dispatch as having distinguished themselves
in this most gallant struggle. They amount to about ninety in number.
Indeed, it may well be supposed that at such a time every soldier worthy
of the name, every civilian with a drop of honest blood in him, would
achieve things of which, at another time, he would scarcely deem himself
capable. Not only British; for Captain Anderson mentions two gentlemen
of foreign birth, a Frenchman and an Italian, who, shut up like the rest
in the intrenchment, fought and worked as untiringly as their
companions. In a foot-note we give the names of officers mentioned by
Brigadier Inglis as having died during the siege;[103] and in another,
of those who commanded eleven of the outposts or ‘garrisons,’ those
fortified houses which were defended in so extraordinary a way.[104] Of
all these he had a kindly word to say; as well as of the artillery and
engineer officers, the infantry officers, the officers of the staff, the
surgeons and the chaplains, the commissariat-officers, the
gentlemen-volunteers, the humble rank and file, and the ladies who
became the ‘Florence Nightingales’ of the garrison. Nothing, perhaps, in
the whole course of the siege, was more remarkable than the conduct of
the native troops. It will be remembered that when three native infantry
regiments mutinied at the cantonment on the 30th of May, some of the
sepoys in each remained faithful. This select band shared all the
labours and sufferings of the British during the siege. With scanty
food, little and broken sleep, harassing exertions, daily fightings,
they remained steadfast to the last. Though sorely tempted by the
mutineers, who would often converse with them over the palisades of the
intrenchment, they never flinched from their duty. What they were on the
30th of May, they were on the 25th of September, soldiers ‘true to their
salt.’ Few things are more embarrassing, in taking an estimate of the
causes and progress of the Revolt, than to meet with such anomalies as
this. Explain it how we may, it would be gross injustice to withhold
from such men a tribute of admiration for their fidelity at so trying a
time. May there not have been something of a moral grandeur, a sublimity
of heroism, in the conduct of the devoted garrison, that touched the
hearts of these sepoys, and appealed to their better nature?
Viscount Canning did not fail to give an official recognition of the
merits of those who had made this glorious defence. In an ‘Order in
Council,’ issued at Calcutta, after adverting to the receipt of a
military account of the proceedings from Brigadier Inglis, his lordship
said:
‘The governor-general in council believes that never has a tale been
told which will so stir the hearts of Englishmen and Englishwomen....
There does not stand recorded in the annals of war an achievement more
truly heroic than the defence of the Residency at Lucknow. That defence
has not only called forth all the energy and daring which belong to
Englishmen in the hour of active conflict, but it has exhibited
continuously, and in the highest degree, that noble and sustained
courage which against enormous odds and fearful disadvantages, against
hope deferred, and through increasing toil and wear of body and mind,
still holds on day after day, and triumphs. The heavy guns of the
assailants, posted almost in security within fifty yards of the
intrenchments—so near, indeed, that the solicitations, threats, and
taunts which the rebels addressed to the native defenders of the
garrison were easily heard by those true-hearted men; the fire of the
enemy’s musketry, so searching that it penetrated the innermost retreat
of the women and children and of the wounded; their desperate attempts,
repeatedly made, to force an entry after blowing in the defences; the
perpetual mining of the works; the weary night-watching for the expected
signal of relief; and the steady waste of precious lives until the
number of English gunners was reduced below that of the guns to be
worked—all these constitute features in a history which the
fellow-countrymen of the heroes of Lucknow will read with swelling
hearts, and which will endure for ever as a lesson to those who shall
hope, by treachery, numbers, or boldness in their treason, to overcome
the indomitable spirit of Englishmen.’
The officer who so nobly held the command after Lawrence and Banks
had been stricken down by death, well earned the honours which the
Queen afterwards conferred upon him. He entered Lucknow as a
lieutenant-colonel; he left it as Major-general Sir John Eardley
Wilmot Inglis, K.C.B. Promotion in various ways awaited many of
the other officers; but the immediate recognition by the
governor-general of the services rendered by the garrison was
embodied in the following general order: ‘Every officer and
soldier, European and native, who has formed part of the garrison
of the Residency between the 29th of June and the 25th of
September last shall receive six months’ batta. Every civilian in
the covenanted service of the East India Company who has taken
part in the defence of the Residency within the above-named dates
shall receive six months’ batta, at a rate calculated according to
the military rank with which his standing corresponds. Every
uncovenanted civil officer or volunteer who has taken a like part
shall receive six months’ batta, at a rate to be fixed according
to the functions and position which may have been assigned to him.
Every native commissioned and non-commissioned officer and soldier
who has formed part of the garrison shall receive the Order of
Merit, with the increase of pay attached thereto, and shall be
permitted to count three years of additional service. The soldiers
of the 13th, 48th, and 71st regiments native infantry, who have
been part of the garrison, shall be formed into a regiment of the
line, to be called “the Regiment of Lucknow,” the further
constitution of which, as regards officers and men, will be
notified hereafter.’
What was done at Lucknow during October and November must be recorded in
a future chapter. While Outram, Havelock, and Inglis were maintaining
themselves, by indomitable resolution, in the Residency and the Alum
Bagh, Sir Colin Campbell was collecting a force adequate, if not to the
actual reconquest of Lucknow, at least to the rescue of all the British
of every class residing in that hateful city. Those two concurrent lines
of proceeding will be treated in intimate connection, a few pages on.
Note.
_Brigadier Inglis’s Dispatch._—In order that the narrative contained
in the foregoing chapter might not be interrupted by too many
extracts from official documents, little has been said of the report
which Brigadier Inglis drew up of the siege soon after the arrival
of Outram and Havelock. So vividly, however, and in all respects so
worthily, did that report or dispatch portray the trying
difficulties of the position, and the heroic conduct of the
garrison, that it may be well to give a portion of it in this place.
‘The right honourable the governor-general in council will feel that
it would be impossible to crowd within the limits of a dispatch even
the principal events, much less the individual acts of gallantry,
which have marked this protracted struggle. But I can
conscientiously declare my conviction, that few troops have ever
undergone greater hardships, exposed as they have been to a
never-ceasing musketry-fire and cannonade. They have also
experienced the alternate vicissitudes of extreme wet and of intense
heat, and that, too, with very insufficient shelter from either, and
in many places without any shelter at all. In addition to having had
to repel real attacks, they have been exposed night and day to the
hardly less harassing false alarms which the enemy have been
constantly raising. The insurgents have frequently fired very
heavily, sounded the advance, and shouted for several hours
together, though not a man could be seen: with the view, of course,
of harassing our small and exhausted force. In this object they
succeeded, for no part has been strong enough to allow of a portion
only of the garrison being prepared in the event of a false attack
being turned into a real one; all, therefore, had to stand to their
arms and to remain at their posts until the demonstration had
ceased; and such attacks were of almost nightly occurrence. The
whole of the officers and men have been on duty night and day during
the 87 days which the siege had lasted up to the arrival of Sir J.
Outram, G.C.B. In addition to this incessant military duty, the
force has been nightly employed in repairing defences, in moving
guns, in burying dead animals, in conveying ammunition and
commissariat stores from one place to another, and in other
fatigue-duties too numerous and too trivial to enumerate here. I
feel, however, that any words of mine will fail to convey any
adequate idea of what the fatigue and labours have been—labours in
which all ranks and all classes, civilians, officers, and soldiers,
have all borne an equally noble part. All have together descended
into the mine, and have together handled the shovel for the
interment of the putrid bullocks; and all, accoutred with musket and
bayonet, have relieved each other on sentry without regard to the
distinctions of rank, civil or military. Notwithstanding all these
hardships, the garrison has made no less than five sorties, in which
they spiked two of the enemy’s heaviest guns, and blew up several of
the houses from which they had kept up their most harassing fire.
Owing to the extreme paucity of our numbers, each man was taught to
feel that on his own individual efforts alone depended in no small
measure the safety of the entire position. This consciousness
incited every officer, soldier, and man, to defend the post assigned
to him with such desperate tenacity, and to fight for the lives
which Providence had intrusted to his care with such dauntless
determination, that the enemy, despite their constant attacks, their
heavy mines, their overwhelming numbers, and their incessant fire,
could never succeed in gaining one single inch of ground within the
bounds of this straggling position, which was so feebly fortified,
that had they once obtained a footing in any of the outposts the
whole place must inevitably have fallen.
‘If further proof be wanting of the desperate nature of the struggle
which we have, under God’s blessing, so long and so successfully
waged, I would point to the roofless and ruined houses, to the
crumbled walls, to the exploded mines, to the open breaches, to the
shattered and disabled guns and defences, and lastly, to the long
and melancholy list of the brave and devoted officers and men who
have fallen. These silent witnesses bear sad and solemn testimony to
the way in which this feeble position has been defended.
‘During the early part of these vicissitudes, we were left without
any information whatever regarding the posture of affairs outside.
An occasional spy did indeed come in with the object of inducing our
sepoys and servants to desert; but the intelligence derived from
such sources was, of course, entirely untrustworthy. We sent our
messengers, daily calling for aid, and asking for information, none
of whom ever returned until the 26th day of the siege; when a
pensioner named Ungud came back with a letter from General
Havelock’s camp, informing us that they were advancing with a force
sufficient to bear down all opposition, and would be with us in five
or six days. A messenger was immediately despatched, requesting that
on the evening of their arrival on the outskirts of the city two
rockets might be sent up, in order that we might take the necessary
measures for assisting them while forcing their way in. The sixth
day, however, expired, and they came not; but for many evenings
after, officers and men watched for the ascension of the expected
rockets, with hopes such as make the heart sick. We knew not then,
nor did we learn until the 29th of August—or 35 days later—that the
relieving force, after having fought most nobly to effect our
deliverance, had been obliged to fall back for reinforcements; and
this was the last communication we received until two days before
the arrival of Sir James Outram, on the 25th of September.
‘Besides heavy visitations of cholera and small-pox, we have also
had to contend against a sickness which has almost universally
pervaded the garrison. Commencing with a very painful eruption, it
has merged into a low fever, combined with diarrhœa; and although
few or no men have actually died from its effects, it leaves behind
a weakness and lassitude which, in the absence of all material
sustenance, save coarse beef, and still coarser flour, none have
been able entirely to get over. The mortality among the women and
children, and especially among the latter, from these diseases and
from other causes, has been perhaps the most painful characteristic
of the siege. The want of native servants has also been a source of
much privation. Owing to the suddenness with which we were besieged,
many of these people, who might perhaps have otherwise proved
faithful to their employers, but who were outside the defences at
the time, were altogether excluded. Very many more deserted, and
several families were consequently left without the services of a
single domestic. Several ladies have had to tend their children, and
even to wash their own clothes, as well as to cook their scanty
meals, entirely unaided. Combined with the absence of servants, the
want of proper accommodation has probably been the cause of much of
the disease with which we have been afflicted.
‘I cannot refrain from bringing to the prominent notice of his
lordship in council the patient endurance and the Christian
resignation which have been evinced by the women of this garrison.
They have animated us by their example. Many, alas! have been made
widows and their children fatherless in this cruel struggle. But all
such seem resigned to the will of Providence; and many—among whom
may be mentioned the honoured names of Birch, of Polehampton, of
Barbor, and of Gall—have, after the example of Miss Nightingale,
constituted themselves the tender and solicitous nurses of the
wounded and dying soldiers in the hospital.’
[After enumerating the officers and civilians who had wrought
untiringly in the good cause, Brigadier Inglis did ample justice to
the humbler combatants.]
‘Lastly, I have the pleasure of bringing the splendid behaviour of
the soldiers—namely, the men of her Majesty’s 32d foot, the small
detachment of her Majesty’s 84th foot, the European and native
artillery, the 13th, 48th, and 71st regiments of native infantry,
and the Sikhs of the respective corps—to the notice of the
government of India. The losses sustained by her Majesty’s 32d,
which is now barely 300 strong, by her Majesty’s 84th, and by the
European artillery, shew at least that they knew how to die in the
cause of their countrymen. Their conduct under the fire, the
exposure, and the privations which they have had to undergo, has
been throughout most admirable and praiseworthy.
‘As another instance of the desperate character of our defence, and
the difficulties we have had to contend with, I may mention that the
number of our artillerymen was so reduced, that on the occasion of
an attack, the gunners, aided as they were by men of her Majesty’s
32d foot, and by volunteers of all classes, had to run from one
battery to another wherever the fire of the enemy was hottest, there
not being nearly enough men to serve half the number of guns at the
same time. In short, at last the number of European gunners was only
24, while we had, including mortars, no less than 30 guns in
position.
‘With respect to the native troops, I am of opinion that their
loyalty has never been surpassed. They were indifferently fed and
worse housed. They were exposed, especially the 13th regiment, under
the gallant Lieutenant Aitken, to a most galling fire of round-shot
and musketry, which materially decreased their numbers. They were so
near the enemy that conversation could be carried on between them;
and every effort, persuasion, promise, and threat, was alternately
resorted to in vain to seduce them from their allegiance to the
handful of Europeans, who, in all probability, would have been
sacrificed by their desertion.’
-----
Footnote 94:
Chap. vi., pp. 82-96. Chap. x., pp. 163-165. Chap, xv., pp. 247-263.
Footnote 95:
General staff, 9
Brigade staff, 5
Artillery, 9
Engineers, 3
H.M. 32d foot, 22
H.M. 84th foot, 2
7th Bengal native cavalry, 13
13th Bengal native infantry, 10
41st Bengal native infantry, 11
48th Bengal native infantry, 14
71st Bengal native infantry, 11
Oude brigade, 26
Various officers, 9
Civil service, 9
Surgeons, 2
Chaplains, 2
Ladies, 69
Ladies, children of, 68
Other women, 171
Other women, children of, 196
Uncovenanted servants, 125
Martinière school, 8
———
794
Another account gave the number 865, including about 50 native
children in the Martinière school.
Footnote 96:
_Personal Narrative of the Siege of Lucknow, from its Commencement to
its Relief._ By L. E. Ruutz Rees, one or the Survivors.
_A Lady’s Diary of the Siege of Lucknow, written for the Perusal of
Friends at Home._
_A Personal Journal of the Siege of Lucknow._ By Captain R. P.
Anderson, 25th Regiment N. I., commanding an outpost.
_The Defence of Lucknow: a Diary recording the Daily Events during the
Siege of the European Residency._ By a Staff-officer.
Footnote 97:
In a former chapter (p. 84), a brief notice is given of Claude
Martine, a French adventurer who rose to great wealth and influence at
Lucknow, and who lived in a fantastic palace called Constantia,
southeastward of the city. His name will, however, be more favourably
held in remembrance as the founder of a college, named by him the
Martinière, for Eurasian or half-caste children. This college was
situated near the eastern extremity of the city; but when the troubles
began, the principals and the children removed to a building hastily
set apart for them within the Residency enclosure. The authoress of
the _Lady’s Diary_, whose husband was connected as a pastor with the
Martinière, thus speaks of this transfer: ‘The Martinière is
abandoned, and I suppose we shall lose all our remaining property,
which we have been obliged to leave to its fate, as nothing more can
be brought in here. We got our small remnant of clothes; but
furniture, harp, books, carriage-horses, &c., are left at the
Martinière. The poor boys are all stowed away in a hot close native
building, and it will be a wonder if they don’t get ill.’
Footnote 98:
The wood-cut at p. 93 represents a part of the Residency in this
limited sense of the term; the view at p. 82 will convey some notion
of the appearance of the city of Lucknow as seen from the terrace-roof
of this building. The plan on next page will give an idea of the
Residency before siege; and in the next Part will be given a plan of
the Residency under siege, shewing the relation which the enemies’
guns bore to those of the besieged.
Footnote 99:
Mr Rees relates a strange anecdote in connection with this retreat
from the Muchee Bhowan to the Residency: ‘We saved all but one man,
who, having been intoxicated, and concealed in some corner, could not
be found when the muster-roll was called. The French say, _Il y a un
Dieu pour les ivrognes_; and the truth of the proverb was never better
exemplified than in this man’s case. He had been thrown into the air,
had returned unhurt to mother-earth, continued his drunken sleep
again, had awaked next morning, found the fort to his surprise a mass
of deserted ruins, and quietly walked back to the Residency without
being molested by a soul; and even bringing with him a pair of
bullocks attached to a cart of ammunition. It is very probable that
the débris of these extensive buildings must have seriously injured
the adjacent houses and many of the rebel army—thus giving the
fortunate man the means of escaping.
Footnote 100:
The authoress of the _Lady’s Diary_ gives an affecting account of the
hour that succeeded the wounding of Sir Henry Lawrence. She, with her
husband, was at that time in the house of Dr Fayrer, a surgeon who had
more than once urged upon Sir Henry the paramount duty of cherishing
his own life as one valuable to others even if slighted by himself.
‘He was brought over to this house immediately. —— prayed with him,
and administered the Holy Communion to him. He was quite sensible,
though his agony was extreme. He spoke for nearly an hour, quite
calmly, expressing his last wishes with regard to his children. He
sent affectionate messages to them and to each of his brothers and
sisters. He particularly mentioned the Lawrence Asylum, and entreated
that government might be urged to give it support. He bade farewell to
all the gentlemen who were standing round his bed, and said a few
words of advice and kindness to each.... There was not a dry eye
there; every one was so deeply affected and grieved at the loss of
such a man.’
It may here be stated that the Queen afterwards bestowed a baronetcy
on Sir Henry’s eldest son, Alexander Lawrence; to whom also the East
India Company voted a pension of £1000 per annum.
Footnote 101:
The _Jersey Times_ of December 10, 1857, contained what professed to
be an extract of a letter from M. de Bannerol, a French physician in
the service of Mussur Rajah, dated October 8, and published in _Le
Pays_ (Paris paper), giving an account of the feelings of the
Christian women shut up within Lucknow just before their relief. It
went on to state how Jessie Brown, a corporal’s wife, cheered the
party in the depth of their terrors and despair, by starting up and
declaring that, amidst the roar of the artillery, she caught the faint
sound of the _slogan_ of the approaching Highlanders, particularly
that of the Macgregor, ‘the grandest of them a’!’ The soldiers
intermitted firing to listen, but could hear nothing of the kind, and
despair once more settled down upon the party. After a little
interval, Jessie broke out once more with words of hope, referring to
the sound of the Highland bagpipes, which the party at length
acknowledged they heard; and then by one impulse, all fell on their
knees, ‘and nothing was heard but the bursting sob and the voice of
prayer.’ The tale has made so great an impression on the public mind,
that we feel much reluctance in expressing our belief that it is
either wholly a fiction, or only based slightly in fact. What excited
our distrust from the first was the allusion to the slogans or
war-cries of the respective clans—things which have had no practical
existence for centuries, and which would manifestly be inappropriate
in regiments composed of a miscellany of clansmen, not to speak of the
large admixture of Lowlanders. We are assured that the story is looked
upon in the best-informed quarters as purely a tale of the
imagination.
Footnote 102:
See chap. xv., p. 263.
Footnote 103:
Sir Henry Lawrence; Major Banks; Lieutenant-colonel Case, Captains
Steevens, Mansfield, Radcliffe, and M’Cabe, 32d foot; Captain Francis,
13th N. I.; Lieutenants Shepherd and Archer, 7th native cavalry;
Captain Hughes, 57th N. I.; Major Anderson and Captain Fulton,
engineers; Captain Simons, artillery.
Footnote 104:
Colonel Master and Captain Boileau, 7th N.C.; Major Apthorp and
Captain Sanders, 41st N.I.; Captain Germon and Lieutenants Aitken and
Loughnan, 13th N.I.; Captain Anderson, 25th N.I.; Lieutenant Graydon,
44th N.I.; Lieutenant Longmore, 71st N.I.; Mr Schilling, principal of
the Martinière College.
[Illustration:
MR COLVIN, Lieutenant-governor of Northwest Provinces.
]