THE RESCUE AT LUCKNOW, BY SIR COLIN CAMPBELL.
A little care is needed to avoid confusion in the use of the words
‘siege,’ ‘defence,’ and ‘relief,’ relating to Lucknow—so peculiar and
complicated were the military operations in and near that city during
the mutiny. In the first place, there was the defence of the Residency
by Brigadier Inglis, during July, August, and September: the mutineers
and rebels in the city itself being the besiegers. Secondly, in the
closing week of September, came the siege of Lucknow city by the British
under Havelock, Outram, and Neill: the rebels being the besieged, and
Inglis’s little band, still shut up within the Residency enclosure,
being unable to take an active part in the operations. Next, for a
further period of seven or eight weeks, a renewed defence of the British
position was maintained by Havelock, Outram, and Inglis—the mutineers
and rebels being, as in the first instance, the besiegers. Then, in the
third week of November, occurred a siege of the city by Sir Colin
Campbell: the mutineers and rebels being the defenders, and the British
inmates of the Residency being enabled to aid the operations of the
commander-in-chief. After this, there was another defence of the Alum
Bagh against the rebels by Outram, and another siege of Lucknow by
Campbell. It follows, therefore, that the ‘siege,’ the ‘defence,’ or the
‘relief’ of Lucknow should not be mentioned without defining the period
to which the expression refers.
With this explanatory remark, the scope of the present chapter may be
easily shewn. In former pages[115] the eventful defence of the Residency
at Lucknow from the beginning of July to near the close of September, by
Brigadier Inglis, was described; together with the arrival of a small
army under Havelock and Outram, and the terrible conflict in the streets
of the city. In the present chapter the sequel of the story will be
given—shewing how it arose that Havelock and Outram could not escort the
suffering women and children, sick and wounded, from Lucknow to a place
of safety; how they struggled on for eight weeks longer; what
preparations Sir Colin Campbell made to collect an army of relief; how
he fought his way to Lucknow; and by what felicitous arrangements he
safely brought away those who, from sex, age, sickness, or wounds, were
unable to defend themselves against a fierce and relentless enemy.
On the 26th of September, when a few hours’ sleep had closed the
agitating proceedings of the previous day, it was found that the
‘relief’ of Lucknow was a relief rather in name than in substance. Sir
Henry Havelock surrendered the command which had been generously left in
his hands up to this time by a superior officer; Brigadier Inglis
surrendered the military control of the intrenched position, or rather
continued to hold it under the supervision of another; while Sir James
Outram, in virtue of an arrangement previously made, assumed the
leadership of all the British forces, and the exercise of all British
power, throughout Oude. At present, this leadership and power were of
humble dimensions, for he commanded very little more of the province
than the few acres at the Residency and the Alum Bagh. Of the gallant
troops, under 3000 in number, who, led by Havelock, Outram, and Neill,
had left Cawnpore on the 19th of September, nearly one-third were
stricken down by the time the Residency was reached. The survivors were
too few in number to form a safe escort for the women and children from
Lucknow to Cawnpore; the march would have been an awful one, marked by
bloodshed at every step; the soldiers, distracted by the double duties
of protectors and combatants, would have been too weak for either. They
brought muscle and sinew to aid in constructing countermines and
batteries; they enlarged the area of the intrenched or fortified
position—but they could not rescue those who had so long borne the
wonderful siege.
Some of the troops, in charge of guns, baggage, and baggage animals, had
defended a position outside the Residency enclosure during the night;
and arrangements were now made to secure the new or enlarged
area—including the Clock Tower, the Jail, a mosque, the Taree Kothee,
the Chuttur Munzil palace, the Fureed Buksh palace, the Pyne Bagh, and
other buildings and gardens. It was not without severe fighting and much
loss on the 26th that the wounded were placed in safety, the guns
secured, and the new position fortified. When these palaces, which had
until now been respected, were conquered from the enemy, they were
regarded as fair military spoil. The buildings formed a labyrinth of
court-yards, inner gardens, balconies, gateways, passages, verandahs,
rotundas, outhouses, and pavilions; and all became a scene of plunder.
‘Everywhere,’ says Mr Rees, ‘might be seen people helping themselves to
whatever they pleased. Jewels, shawls, dresses, pieces of satin, silk,
broadcloths, coverings, rich embroidered velvet saddles for horses and
elephants, the most magnificent divan carpets studded with pearls,
dresses of cloth of gold, turbans of the most costly brocade, the finest
muslins, the most valuable swords and poniards, thousands of flint-guns,
caps, muskets, ammunition, cash, books, pictures, European clocks,
English clothes, full-dress officers’ uniforms, epaulettes,
aiguillettes, manuscripts, charms; vehicles of the most grotesque forms,
shaped like fish, dragons, and sea-horses; imauns or representations of
the Prophet’s hands, cups, saucers, cooking-utensils, china-ware
sufficient to set up fifty merchants in Lombard Street, scientific
instruments, ivory telescopes, pistols; and (what was better than all)
tobacco, tea, rice, grain, spices, and vegetables.’ There is no proof
that much order was observed in the partition or distribution; every one
appears to have helped himself to what he pleased; and many collected
large stores of useful and ornamental articles which they afterwards
sold at high prices. There was a good deal of luxurious living for the
first few days, on the savoury provisions found in the palaces; and we
may in some degree imagine how this was enjoyed, after such sorry
rations of chupatties, stewed peas, and morsels of tough gun-bullock
beef. There was, perhaps, something undignified in all this scrambling
spoliation that jars with one’s notions of heroism and exalted courage;
but military men are accustomed to overlook it in the moment of victory.
When Sir James Outram clearly ascertained that the rebels and mutineers,
instead of escaping from the city, were closing in more and more
resolutely, he saw that no departure would be practicable either for
officers or men, military or civilians, women or children. He
endeavoured to open negotiations with Maun Singh, a powerful thalookdar
or landowner;[116] to win him over to the side of the British, and
thereby lessen the difficulties of the position; but the wily Oudian,
balancing the relative advantages of loyalty and rebellion, gave
specious answers on which no dependence could be placed. It became
necessary to prepare for a new defence against a new siege. All the old
‘garrisons’ were strengthened, and new ones formed; all the guns and
mortars were placed in effective positions, and all the soldiers told
off to regular duties. As Outram and Havelock had brought scarcely any
provisions with them into the Residency; and as those found in the
palaces were articles of luxury rather than of solid food, a very
careful commissariat adjustment became necessary—it being now evident
that the daily rations must of necessity be small in quantity and coarse
in quality. The enemy renewed their old system of firing, day after day,
into the British position; they broke down the bridges over canals and
small streams between the Residency and the Alum Bagh; and they
captured, or sought to capture, every one who attempted to leave the
intrenchment. On the other hand, the British made frequent sorties, to
capture guns, blow up buildings, and dislodge parties of the enemy. Six
days after the entry of Outram and Havelock, a soldier was found under
circumstances not a little strange. Some of the garrison having sallied
forth to capture two guns on the Cawnpore road, a private of the Madras
Europeans was discovered in a dry well, where the poor fellow had been
hiding several days. He had fortunately some tea-leaves and biscuits in
his pockets, on which he had managed to support life; he had heard the
enemy all round him, but had not dared to utter a sound. The well
contained the dead body of a native sepoy; and the atmosphere hence
became so pestilential and frightful that the poor European was wont to
creep out at night to breathe a little fresh air. Great was his joy when
at length he heard friendly voices; he shouted loudly for help, in spite
of his exhausted state, and was barely saved from being shot by his
countrymen as a rebel, so black and filthy was his appearance.
Throughout the month of October did this state of affairs in Lucknow
continue. Outram had brought his guns into the intrenchment by clearing
a passage for them through the palaces; he had destroyed Phillips’ or
Philip’s Battery, with which the enemy had been accustomed greatly to
annoy the garrison; he had blown up and cleared away a mass of buildings
on the Cawnpore road; he had strengthened all the points of the position
held by himself and Havelock; but still he could neither send aid to the
Alum Bagh, nor receive aid from it. He could do nothing but maintain his
position, until Sir Colin Campbell should be able to advance from
Cawnpore with a new army. A few messages, in spite of the enemy’s
vigilance, were sent and received. Outram was glad to learn that a
convoy of provisions had reached the Alum Bagh from Cawnpore, and that
Greathed was marching down the Doab with a column from Delhi. As for
Lucknow itself, matters remained much as before—sorties, firing, blowing
up, &c.; but it must at the same time be admitted that Outram was more
favourably placed in this respect than Inglis had been; his fighting-men
were three or four times as numerous, and were thus enabled to guard all
the posts with an amount of labour less terribly exhausting. Danger was,
of course, not over; cannon-balls and bullets still did their work. The
authoress of the _Lady’s Diary_ on one day recorded: ‘An 18-pounder came
through our unfortunate room; it broke the panel of the door, and
knocked the whole of the barricade down, upsetting everything. My
dressing-table was sent flying through the door, and if the shot had
come a little earlier, my head would have gone with it. The box where E.
usually sits to nurse baby was smashed flat.’ Breakfasts of chupatties
and boiled peas were now seldom relieved by better fare; many a diner
rose from his meal nearly as hungry as when he sat down. Personal attire
was becoming more and more threadbare. Poor Captain Fulton’s very old
flannel-shirt, time-worn and soiled, sold by auction for forty-five
rupees—four pounds ten shillings sterling.
Little news could be obtained from the city itself, beyond the limits of
the British position; but that little tended to shew that the rebels had
set up a natural son of the deposed king as ‘Padishah’ of Oude, as a
sort of tributary prince to the King of Delhi. Being a child only eight
or ten years old, the real power was vested in a minister and a council
of state. The minister was one Shirreff-u-Dowlah; the commander-in-chief
was Hissamut-u-Dowlah; the council of state was formed of the late
king’s principal servants, the chieftains and thalookdars of Oude, and
the self-elected leaders of the rebel sepoys; while the army was
officered in the orthodox manner by generals, brigadiers, colonels,
majors, captains, subalterns, &c. There was a strange sort of democracy
underlying the despotism; for the sepoys elected their officers, and the
officers their commander; and as those who built up felt that they had
the right to pull down, the tenure of office was very precarious. The
mongrel government at Lucknow was thus formed of three elements—regal,
aristocratic, and military, each trusting the other two only so far as
self-interest seemed to warrant. The worst news received was that a
small body of Europeans, including Sir Mountstuart Jackson and his
sister, fugitives from Seetapoor, were in the hands of the rebels, in
one of the palaces in Lucknow, and that a terrible fate impended over
them.
[Illustration:
The Residency and its Defences, Lucknow.
]
November began with very low resources, but with raised hopes; for it
was known that the commander-in-chief was busily making arrangements for
a final relief of the garrison. Brigadier—or, as his well-earned
initials of K.C.B. now entitled him to be called, Sir John—Inglis
remained in command of the old or Residency intrenchment; Sir Henry
Havelock took charge of the new or palatial position; while Sir James
Outram commanded the whole. Labour being abundant, great improvements
were made in all parts; sanitary plans were carried out, and hospitals
made more comfortable; overcrowded buildings were eased by the occupancy
of other places; cool weather brought increase of health; and
improvements were visible in every particular except two—food and
raiment. On the 9th of the month, Mr Cavanagh, who in more peaceful
times had been an ‘uncovenanted servant’ of the Company, or clerk to a
civil officer in Lucknow, made a journey on foot to a point far beyond
the Alum Bagh under most adventurous circumstances,[117] to communicate
in person full details of what was passing within the Residency, to
concert plans in anticipation of the arrival of Sir Colin, and perhaps
to act as a guide through the labyrinthine streets of the city. As an
immediate consequence of this expedition, a system of semaphore
telegraphy was established from the one post to the other, by which it
was speedily known that Mr Cavanagh had succeeded in his bold attempt,
and that Sir Colin arrived at the Alum Bagh on the 11th. Arrangements
were now at once made to aid the advance of the commander-in-chief as
effectively as possible. Day after day Havelock sent out strong parties
to clear some of the streets and buildings in the southeastern half of
the city—blowing up batteries and houses, and dislodging the enemy, in
order to lessen the amount of resistance which Sir Colin would
inevitably encounter.[118]
All this time, while the British in Lucknow were stoutly maintaining
their ground against the enemy, some of their companions-in-arms—near at
hand, but as inaccessible as if fifty miles distant—had their own
troubles to bear. The position of the small detachment at the Alum Bagh
was as trying as it was unexpected. When Havelock left a few hundred
soldiers at that post, with four guns, vehicles, animals, baggage,
ammunition stores, camp-followers, sick, and wounded, he never for an
instant supposed that he would be cut off from them, and that the
Residency and the Alum Bagh would be the objects of two separate and
distinct sieges. Such, however, was the case. Not a soldier could go
from the one place to the other; and it was with the utmost difficulty
that a messenger could convey a small note rolled up in a quill. The
place, however, was tolerably well armed and fortified; and as the enemy
did not swarm in any great numbers between it and Cawnpore,
reinforcements were gradually able to reach the Alum Bagh, although they
could not push on through the remaining four miles to the Residency. On
the 3d of October, a convoy of 300 men of the 64th regiment, with
provisions, under Major Bingham, started from Cawnpore, and safely
reached the Alum Bagh; he could not penetrate further, but the supplies
thus obtained at the Alum Bagh itself were very valuable. On the 14th, a
second convoy, under Major M’Intyre of the 78th Highlanders, was
despatched; but he was attacked by the enemy in such force, that he
could not reach the Alum Bagh; he returned, and had some difficulty in
preventing the supplies from falling into the hands of the enemy.
Another attempt afterwards succeeded. Colonel Wilson, commanding at
Cawnpore, received the small detachments of British troops sent up from
time to time from the lower provinces, as well as the supplies coming in
from every quarter. His duty was, not to make conquests, but to send men
and provisions to the Alum Bagh or the Residency as often as any
opportunity occurred for so doing, he knew that the Alum Bagh batteries
commanded all the approaches, and that the ground was cleared and
exposed for five hundred yards on all sides; he did not therefore
apprehend any serious calamity to the miscellaneous force shut up in
that place, provided he could send provisions in good time. The three or
four miles from the Alum Bagh to the Residency were, it is true, beset
by difficulties of a most formidable character; bridges were broken, and
lines of intrenchment formed, while mutineers and rebels occupied the
district in great force; but they directed their attention rather to the
Residency than to the Alum Bagh, thereby leaving the latter
comparatively unmolested. Much sickness arose within the place, owing to
the deficiency of space and of fresh air; and in the intervals between
the arrivals of the convoys, provisions were scanty, and the distress
was considerable. Nevertheless, the occupants of the Alum Bagh, with
such men as Havelock and Inglis near them, never for an instant thought
of succumbing; they would fight and endure till aid arrived.
Having thus watched the proceedings of the beleaguered garrisons at the
Residency and the Alum Bagh, we may now trace the footsteps of Sir Colin
Campbell, in his operations for their relief.
The commander-in-chief, as has already been stated, remained at Calcutta
many weeks after his arrival in India. He was called upon to remodel the
whole military machinery, and to arrange with the governor-general the
system of strategy which would be most desirable under the actual state
of affairs. He watched with intense interest the progress of events on
the banks of the Jumna and the Ganges. He gave due praise to Wilson for
the conquest of Delhi, and to Greathed for the conquering march through
the Doab. He admired, as a soldier might well admire, the struggles of
Havelock’s gallant little army ere Outram had joined him; the combined
operations of Havelock and Outram; and the wonderful defence made by
Inglis against a host of opponents. He sent up from Calcutta, as soon as
they arrived, reinforcements for the lamentably small British army; and
he sent orders for brigading and marshalling, at Allahabad and at
Cawnpore, such troops as could arrive from Calcutta on the one hand, and
from Delhi on the other. At last, he himself departed from Calcutta on
the 28th of October, travelling like a courier, narrowly escaping
capture by rebels on the way, and arriving at Cawnpore on the 3d of
November—utterly heedless of the glitter and trappings that usually
surround a commander-in-chief in India.
By what steps the various regiments reached Cawnpore, need not be traced
in detail. As fast as they arrived, so did some degree of tranquillity
succeed to anarchy. A portion of railway had for some weeks been
finished from Allahabad to Lohunda, forty-two miles towards Futtehpoor,
but had been stopped in its working by the mutiny; arrangements were now
made, however, for bringing it into use, and for finishing the section
between Lohunda and Futtehpoor. The English regiments, from China and
elsewhere, went up from Calcutta by road or river, in the modes so often
described; and were engaged in occasional skirmishes on the way, at
times and places which have in like manner been mentioned. Benares was
the converging point for the road and river routes; from thence the
troops went up by Mirzapore to Allahabad; thence to Lohunda by rail;
and, lastly, to Futtehpoor and Cawnpore by road-march or
bullock-vehicles. A column under Colonel Berkeley was on its way;
another under Colonel Hinde was in or near Rewah; another under Colonel
Longden was near Jounpoor; while Colonel Wroughton, with the Goorkhas
furnished by Jung Bahadoor, was on the Goruckpore frontier of Oude.
True, some of these so-called columns were scarcely equal to one
regiment in strength; but each formed a nucleus around which other
troops might accumulate. Greathed’s column, now better known as Hope
Grant’s, was the main element in Sir Colin’s present force. It crossed
the Ganges from Cawnpore into Oude on the 30th of October, about 3500
strong, with 18 guns, and advanced without opposition towards the Alum
Bagh, near which it encamped, and awaited the arrival of the
commander-in-chief.
A little may usefully be said here concerning the proceedings of the
naval brigade, already noticed as having been placed under the command
of Captain Peel, and as having arrived safely at Allahabad after a very
wearisome voyage up the Ganges. On the 4th of October Sir Colin
Campbell, then at Calcutta, telegraphed to Peel: ‘In the course of about
a week there will be a continuous stream of troops, at the rate of about
ninety a day, passing into Allahabad, which I trust will not cease for
the next three months.’ Captain Peel was employed during October in
facilitating the passage of troops and artillery up to Cawnpore. On the
20th Lieutenant Vaughan joined him, bringing 126 more naval officers and
seamen, which raised the strength of the naval brigade to 516. Most of
these new arrivals were sailors of the merchant service at Calcutta, who
had agreed with much alacrity to join the brigade. On the 23d he sent
off 100 seamen to Cawnpore, in charge of four siege train 24-pounders.
On the 27th he despatched 170 more, in charge of four 24-pounders and
two 8-inch howitzers; and on the same day a military escort was provided
for a large amount of ammunition. Next, Captain Peel himself started for
Cawnpore; and was soon afterwards joined on the road by Colonel Powell
with the head-quarters of H.M. 53d regiment. Rather unexpectedly, a
battle took place on the way. While at Thurea, on the 31st, news reached
them that the Dinapoor mutineers, with three guns, had crossed the
Jumna, and were about either to attack Futtehpoor, or to march towards
Oude. Powell and Peel had with them troops and sailors numbering
altogether about 700, in charge of a large and valuable convoy of siege
and other stores: They marched that same evening to the camping-ground
of Futtehpoor, where they were joined by some of the 93d Highlanders;
and on the morning of the 1st of November a column of about 500 men
marched twenty-four miles to Kudjna. The enemy were here found, with
their guns commanding the road, their right occupying a high embankment,
screened by a grove, and their left on the other side of the road. A
part of the column advanced against the guns, while the rest rendered
support on either side. A sharp battle of two hours’ duration ensued,
during which the enemy kept up so severe a fire of musketry that many of
the English fell, including Colonel Powell, who received a musket-ball
in the forehead. Captain Peel, although a sailor, then took the command;
he carried a force round the upper end of the embankment, divided the
enemy, and drove them from all their positions, capturing their camp and
two of their tumbrils. His men were so worn out by 72 miles of marching
in three days, that he could not organise a pursuit. Collecting his dead
and wounded, which amounted in number to no less than 95, he marched
back to Binkee; and after a little rest, the column, minus those who
fell in this battle, continued the march towards Cawnpore. It was
supposed the enemy numbered not fewer than 4000 men, of whom one half
were mutinous sepoys from the Bengal army, and the other half rebels
whom they had picked up on the way. After leaving some of his men at
Cawnpore, to serve as artillerymen, Peel advanced with his heavy guns,
and about 250 sailors, towards the Alum Bagh.
Understanding, then, that regiments and detachments of various kinds
were working their way, at the close of October and early in November,
towards Cawnpore, and across the Ganges into Oude, we may resume our
notice of Sir Colin Campbell’s movements.
Remaining at Cawnpore no longer than was necessary to organise his
various military arrangements, the commander-in-chief crossed the Ganges
on the 9th of November, and joined Hope Grant’s column on the same day
at camp Buntara, six miles short of the Alum Bagh. Wishing to have the
aid of other detachments which were then on the road, he remained at
Buntara till the morning of the 12th, when he started with the force
which he had collected with so much trouble.[119] Advancing towards the
Alum Bagh, he defeated a party of the enemy in a skirmish at a small
fort called Jellalabad, a little way to the right of the main road, and
five or six miles from the city. This fort being taken and blown up, Sir
Colin pushed on and encamped for the night outside the Alum Bagh.
Knowing that Havelock and Outram two months before had suffered severely
in cutting their way through the city, Campbell now formed a plan of
approach at the extreme eastern or rather southeastern suburb, and of
battering down the enemy’s defences step by step, and day after day, so
as to form a passage for his infantry with comparatively small loss.
This he had reason to hope; because there was a large open space at that
end of the city, which—although containing many mosques, palaces, and
other buildings—had few of those deep narrow lanes which had proved so
dangerous to the former force. Hence the tactics of the next few days
were to consist of a series of partial sieges, each directed against a
particular stronghold, and each capture to form a base of operations for
attacks on other posts nearer the heart of the city, until at length the
Residency could be reached. The palaces, buildings, and gardens that
would be encountered in this route were the Dil Koosha palace and park,
the Martinière college, the Secunder Bagh, the Shah Nujeef, the palace
Mess-house, the Observatory, the Motee Mehal, the Keisah or Kaiser Bagh,
and various palatial buildings, of which the names are not clearly
rendered; until at length those posts would be reached (the Chuttur
Munzil, the Pyne Bagh, the Fureed Buksh palace, the Clock Tower, and the
Taree Kothee) which were held by Havelock, and lastly those (the
Residency and the other buildings within Inglis’s original intrenchment)
which were held by Outram.
After changing the garrison at the Alum Bagh, giving a little rest to
troops who had recently had much heavy marching, and receiving an
addition of about 650 men[120] from Cawnpore, Sir Colin commenced his
arduous operations on the morning of the 14th, with a miscellaneous
force of about 4000 men. As he approached the Dil Koosha park, the
leading troops encountered a long line of musketry-fire; he quickly sent
up reinforcements; and after a running-fight of about two hours, he
drove the enemy down the hill to the Martinière college, across the
garden and park of the Martinière, and far beyond the canal. This was
effected without any great loss on either side. Campbell had now secured
the Dil Koosha (’Heart’s Delight’) and the Martinière (Martine’s college
for half-caste children). Hope Grant’s brigade, flanked by Bourchier’s
field-battery and Peel’s heavy guns, was brought to the side of the
canal (which enters the river Goomtee close to the Martinière), where
they effectually kept the enemy in check. When night came, Sir Colin
found he had made a good beginning; he had not only secured the
easternmost buildings of Lucknow, but he had brought with him fourteen
days’ provisions for his own troops, and an equal proportion for those
under Outram and Havelock; he had also brought all his heavy baggage
(except tents, left at the Alum Bagh), and was therefore prepared to
make a stand for several days at the Dil Koosha if necessary.
After further completing his arrangements on the 15th, and exchanging
messages or signals with Havelock and Outram, the commander-in-chief
resumed his operations on the 16th. Leaving every description of baggage
at the Dil Koosha, and supplying every soldier’s haversack with three
days’ food, he crossed the canal and advanced to the Secunder Bagh—a
high-walled enclosure of strong masonry, about a hundred and twenty
yards square, loopholed on all sides for musketry, and held in great
force by the enemy. Opposite to it was a village at a distance of about
a hundred yards, also loopholed and guarded by musketeers. After a
determined struggle of two hours, during which artillery and infantry
were brought to bear against them in considerable force, the enemy were
driven out of the Secunder Bagh, the village, and a range of barracks
hard by—all of which speedily became valuable strongholds to the
conquerors. Sir Colin described this as a very desperate encounter, no
less than 2000 of the enemy having fallen, chiefly after the storming of
the Secunder Bagh itself by parties of the 53d and 93d regiments, aided
by the 4th Punjaub infantry and a few miscellaneous troops. Indeed the
enemy, well armed, crowded the Secunder Bagh in such numbers, that he
said ‘there never was a bolder feat of arms’ than the storming. Captain
Peel’s naval siege-train then went to the front, and advanced towards
the Shah Nujeef—a domed mosque with a garden, which had been converted
into a strong post by the enemy; the wall of the enclosure had been
loopholed with great care; the entrance had been covered by a regular
work in masonry; and the top of the building had been crowned with a
parapet. Peel was aided by a field-battery and some mortars; while the
village to the left had been cleared of the enemy by Brigadier Hope and
Colonel Gordon. A heavy cannonade was maintained against the Shah Nujeef
for no less a space than three hours. The enemy defended the post very
obstinately, keeping up an unceasing fire of musketry from the mosque
and the defences in the garden. At last Sir Colin ordered the place to
be stormed, which was effected in an intrepid manner by the 93d
Highlanders, a battalion of detachments, and the naval brigade. In his
dispatch, the commander-in-chief said: ‘Captain Peel led up his heavy
guns with extraordinary gallantry to within a few yards of the building,
to batter the massive stone-walls. The withering fire of the Highlanders
effectually covered the naval brigade from great loss; but it was an
action almost unexampled in war. Captain Peel behaved very much as if he
had been laying the _Shannon_ alongside an enemy’s frigate.’
While Sir Colin and his troops were thus engaged, Havelock contributed
towards the success of the general plan by the capture of a range of
buildings in advance of the palace of Fureed Buksh. It had been agreed
by signal and secret message, that as soon as Sir Colin should reach the
Secunder Bagh, the outer wall of the advance garden of the Fureed Buksh
(Havelock’s most eastern post), in which the enemy had before made
several breaches, should be blown in by mines previously prepared; that
two powerful batteries erected in the enclosure should then open on the
insurgents in front; and that after the desired effect had been
produced, the troops should storm two buildings known as the Hern Khana
or Deer-house and the Engine-house. This was successfully accomplished.
At about eleven o’clock, the operations began. The mines were exploded;
the wall was demolished; the works beyond were shelled by mortars; two
of the mines at the Hern Khana were charged with destructive effect; and
the infantry—eager for a little active work after being many weeks pent
up within their intrenchment—dashed through the Chuttur Munzil and
carried all before them, capturing the several buildings which had been
marked out by previous arrangement.
Thus ended the important operations of the 16th, sanguinary in Sir
Colin’s force, but much less so in that of Havelock—operations during
which the Secunder Bagh, the Shah Nujeef, the Hern Khana, the
Engine-house, and many minor buildings, were captured. On the 17th, the
commander-in-chief, after overcoming many obstacles, opened a
communication between the canal and the left rear of a range of
barracks, that facilitated his subsequent proceedings. Captain Peel
meanwhile began to operate with his now famous naval brigade against a
building called in the maps the Mess-house—a large structure, defended
by a ditch twelve feet broad, and scarped with masonry, and by a
loopholed mud-wall beyond the ditch. As a part of Sir Colin’s general
plan—that of employing artillery as much as possible, to save his
infantry—a cannonading was continued for several hours against this
Mess-house; and then it was stormed and taken without much difficulty by
various detachments of the 53d, the 90th, the Punjaubees, and other
regiments. This done, the troops pressed forward with great vigour, and
lined a wall that separated the Mess-house from the Motee Mehal (’Pearl
Palace’). This last-named place consisted of a wide enclosure containing
many buildings. Here the enemy determined to make one last desperate
stand; they fought with energy and determination for an hour, but then
gave way. Sir Colin’s troops broke an opening through the wall, aided by
the sappers, and then they poured through, rushing onward until they
reached the part of the city which for seven or eight weeks had been in
the hands of Havelock. On the evening of this day the British found
themselves in possession of nearly the whole river-side of Lucknow from
the iron bridge to the Dil Koosha.
It may not be amiss here to mention that these operations during the
second decade of November were conducted by the following officers: Sir
Colin Campbell commanded the whole. General Mansfield officiated as
chief of the staff. Brigadier Hope Grant was in immediate command of the
column, formerly known as Greathed’s, which constituted the chief part
of Sir Colin’s force. Colonel Greathed, now raised to brigadier-general
as a mark of Sir Colin’s estimate of his services, commanded one of the
brigades of infantry. Brigadiers Russell and Adrian Hope took two other
infantry brigades. Brigadier Little commanded the cavalry, Brigadier
Crauford the artillery, Lieutenant Lennox the engineers, and Captain
Peel the naval brigade. The operations brought the honorary distinction
of K.C.B. to Grant and Peel, who became Sir James Hope Grant and Sir
William Peel. Sir Colin’s advance to the Residency, however, with the
collateral struggles to which it gave rise, was severe in its results to
his force, though less so than the operations of Outram and Havelock in
September. He had to mourn the loss of 122 killed and 345 wounded. Out
of this number there were 10 officers killed and 33 wounded. Sir Colin
himself received a slight wound, but not such as to check his activity
for an hour.[121] The loss of the enemy was frightfully severe; the
exact amount was not known to the British, but it must have reached
three or four thousand. They fought at the Secunder Bagh and the Shah
Nujeef with a fierceness which rendered immense slaughter inevitable;
for Peel’s powerful artillery swept them down fearfully.
Whether the transports of joy that animated the British in Lucknow on
the 17th of November were equal in intensity to those which had broken
forth fifty-three days before, can never be exactly measured; men’s
emotions are not susceptible of such nice estimate. Suffice it to say,
that as Inglis, on the 25th of September, had warmly grasped the hands
of his deliverers Havelock and Outram; so did Outram, Havelock, and
Inglis now welcome with all fervour Sir Colin Campbell and those who
with him had just fought their way through the hostile streets of
Lucknow. Then, when a few hours had enabled the new-comers to spread
forth some of the supplies which their commissariat had provided, and
the old inmates had done what little they could to render quiet eating
and drinking possible—then were experienced once again the luxuries of
wheaten bread, fresh butter, oranges, and other articles which are never
luxuries save to those who have been long unable to obtain them. And
then the feast of letters and newspapers from England was scarcely less
delightful; for so close had been the investment of the Residency, that
the inmates had been practically shut out from the world during the
greater part of the summer and autumn.
The jubilation was, however, soon ended. Almost immediately on Sir
Colin’s arrival, an announcement was made that every European was to
leave Lucknow and retire to Cawnpore. Many in the garrison had fondly
hoped that the success of the commander-in-chief would have restored
British control over the city; that comfort was about to succeed
discomfort; that officers and civilians would resume their former duties
under their former easy conditions; and that the ladies and children
might rest a while in quiet, to recover health and strength before
retiring to Calcutta or to the Hills. But such was not to be. Campbell
had come to Lucknow almost solely to liberate them; and his plan of
strategy—or, more probably, the number of available troops at his
command—did not permit him to leave his small force in the Oudian
capital; for there was hot work to look forward to. The enemy,
notwithstanding their losses, still numbered fifty thousand fighting-men
in and near Lucknow, shewing no symptoms of retreat, but rather a
determination to defend the rest of the city street by street. To attack
them further would have been to sacrifice a force already much reduced,
and to risk the necessity for a third relief. Sir Colin issued an order,
therefore, not only that all were to depart, but to depart quickly. The
sick and wounded were to be removed directly from the Residency to the
Dil Koosha—a distance of four miles in a straight line, but five or six
if it were necessary to take a circuitous route to avoid the enemy; the
women and children were to follow the same route on the next day; and
the bulk of the soldiers were to depart when all else had been provided
for. An encampment was prepared in the Dil Koosha park, with such
necessaries and comforts as could be hastily brought together for sick,
wounded, women, and children. The sojourn at the Dil Koosha was to be a
brief one, sufficient only for the organisation of a convoy to Cawnpore.
Only a small amount of personal baggage was allowed for each person; and
thus those who possessed property were forced to leave most of it
behind. The property, it is true, was very scanty; but the garrison felt
vexed at leaving even a trifle as a booty to the rebels. As the ordnance
stores and the Company’s treasure (twenty-three lacs of rupees, safely
preserved through all the trying scenes of half a year) were to be
removed to the Dil Koosha about the same time as the non-combatants, and
as all this was to be effected without exciting the suspicions of the
rebels, the utmost vigilance and caution were needed.
The exodus from the Residency, and the escape to the Dil Koosha, through
nearly the whole length of the city of Lucknow, will never be forgotten
by those who took part therein. Many delicate ladies, unprovided with
vehicles or horses, had to walk over five or six miles of very rough
ground, exposed at one place to the fire of the enemy’s musketry. The
authoress of the _Lady’s Diary_, with two other ladies, secured a
carriage to convey them. ‘We had a pair of starved horses of Mr
Gubbins’s to drag us; but the wretched animals had been on siege-fare so
long that they had forgotten the use of their legs, and had no strength,
so came to a stand-still every five minutes, invariably choosing the
most dangerous parts of the road for their halt. At one place we were
under so hot a fire that we got out and ran for our lives—leaving the
vehicle to its fate; and two poor natives, who were helping to push it
on behind, were shot. At the Fureed Buksh we had to wait a long time, as
the carriage could not be got through a gateway till some stores were
cleared away. Some of the officers of the 90th invited us inside, and
gave us wine and water, which was very refreshing. We walked after that
every step of the way to Secunderabad [Secunder Bagh], where we all had
to wait several hours till doolies arrived to take on all the women; and
we proceeded under a strong escort to Dil Koosha. The road to
Secunderabad was frightfully dangerous in places. In one spot we were
passing a 24-pounder manned by some sailors of the naval brigade; they
all called out to us to bend low and run as fast as we could; we had
hardly done so when a volley of grape whizzed over our heads and struck
a wall beyond. At Secunderabad we found the place overflowing with women
and children of the Lucknow garrison.... At about nine o’clock P.M. we
started again in doolies. The crowd and confusion were excessive, the
enemy hovering round and firing occasional shots, and we were borne
along in the most solemn silence; the only sounds were the tramp, tramp,
tramp of the doolie-bearers and the screaming of the jackals. It was an
awful time; one felt as if one’s life hung in a balance, with the fate
we had so long dreaded; but our merciful Father, who has protected us
through so many and great dangers, brought us in safety to Dil Koosha,
where we arrived about two o’clock in the morning.’ They found shelter
in the hastily prepared Dil Koosha encampment, already mentioned; and
then, for the first time during five months, they snatched a little
sleep beyond the Residency intrenchment. Mrs (now Lady) Inglis behaved
on this occasion in a manner worthy of her name; a doolie or
hospital-litter was prepared for her accommodation; but she refused it,
in order that the sick and wounded might be better attended to. Mr Rees
gives an extract from a letter of this lady, in which the incidents of
the day are narrated nearly in the same terms as by the chaplain’s wife;
but the following few additional facts may be given: ‘The road was quite
safe except in three places, where it was overlooked by the enemy’s
position, and where we had to run. One poor woman was wounded at one of
these places. We arrived at Secunder Bagh about six, and found every one
assembled there, awaiting an escort and doolies to carry us on. When I
tell you that upwards of two thousand men had been hastily buried there
the day before, you can fancy what a place it was.... We were regaled
with tea and plenty of milk, and bread and butter—luxuries we had not
enjoyed since the commencement of our troubles. At ten o’clock we
recommenced our journey; most of the ladies were in palanquins, but we
had a covered-cart drawn by two obstinate bullocks. We had a force of
infantry and cavalry with us, but had not proceeded half a mile when the
column was halted, and an order sent back for reinforcements; some noise
was heard, and it was believed we might be attacked. However, it proved
a false alarm; and after two disagreeable and rather anxious hours, we
arrived safely at the Dil Koosha, and were quartered in tents pitched
for our reception.’ The charnel-house at the Secunder Bagh, mentioned in
this extract, was the place where most of the slaughter of the enemy had
occurred, and where the dead bodies had been hastily interred; the
atmosphere around it was for many days in a frightful state.
The military movement in this evacuation of the Residency was spoken of
by Sir Colin, in his official dispatch, as something masterly. He told
how Outram so planned that each corps and regiment, each detachment and
picket, should be able to march out silently in the dead of the night,
without exciting suspicion among the myriads of enemies near; and yet
that there should be guns and riflemen so posted as to repel the enemy
if they should attempt any serious molestation of the retiring troops.
It must be remembered that Outran and Havelock’s gallant and
much-enduring men had many things to effect after the non-combatants had
departed from the Residency. They were called upon to bring away as many
of the stores as could conveniently be conveyed, and to destroy those
which, if left behind, would too much strengthen the enemy; they had to
escort and protect their weaker companions, and to maintain a
bombardment of the Kaiser Bagh and other posts, to deceive the enemy.
The last of the men came out as quietly and cautiously as possible, in
the dead of the night between the 22d and 23d of November, leaving
lights burning, that the departure might not be suspected. They silently
passed through the streets and roads, and safely reached the Dil Koosha.
Captain Waterman, through some misconception, was left behind, and found
himself, at two o’clock in the morning, the only living man in the
intrenched position which had lately been so crowded. The situation was
a terrible one, surrounded as he was by fifty thousand vindictive armed
enemies. In an agony of mind, he ran past the Taree Kothee, the Fureed
Buksh, the Chuttur Munzil, the Motee Mehal, the Secunder Bagh, and the
Martinière, to the Dil Koosha, which he reached in a state of mental and
bodily prostration. Sir Colin was among the last to leave the place. So
cleverly was the evacuation managed (without the loss of one man), that
the enemy continued to fire into the Residency enclosure long after the
British had quitted it. What the scene was among the women and children,
we have just been informed; what it was among the soldiers, is well
described in a letter from one of the officers: ‘An anxious night indeed
that was! We left at twelve o’clock, having withdrawn all our guns from
position, so that if the scoundrels had only come on, we should have had
to fight every inch of our way while retiring; but the hand of
Providence, which had watched the little garrison for so long a time,
never left it to the last. The eye of the wicked was blinded while we
marched breathlessly with beating hearts from our post, and, forming
into line, walked through the narrow defiles and trenches leading from
the ever-memorable Bailey guard. Out we went, while the enemy’s guns
still pounded the old wall, and while the bullets still whistled over
the buildings; and, after a six miles’ walk in ankle-deep sand, we were
halted in a field and told to make ourselves comfortable for the night.
Here we were in a pretty plight. Nothing to cover ourselves, while the
cold was intense; so we lay down like so many sheep huddled together to
keep ourselves warm, and so lay till the morning, when we rose stiff and
cold, with a pretty prospect of the chance of finding our servants in a
camp of 9000 men.’
The world-renowned ‘Residency’ at Lucknow being thus abandoned, it may
be well to give in a note[122] Sir James Outram’s comments on the eight
weeks’ defence of that place, as a sequel to Brigadier Inglis’s account
(p. 336) of the previous three months’ defence before Outram arrived. To
Outram was due the planning and execution of the strategical movement by
which the evacuation of the Residency was accomplished. The
commander-in-chief, in a general order issued on the 23d, thus spoke of
it: ‘The movement of retreat last night, by which the final rescue of
the garrison was effected, was a model of discipline and exactness. The
consequence was, that the enemy was completely deceived, and the force
retired by a narrow, tortuous lane—the only line of retreat open—in the
face of fifty thousand enemies, without molestation.’[123]
Great and universal was the grief throughout the camp when the rumour
rapidly spread that Havelock, the gallant Christian soldier, was dead.
He shared the duties of Outram at the Dil Koosha on the 23d and 24th,
but died the next day, stricken down by dysentery, brought on by
over-fatigue. All men talked of him as a religious as well as a brave
man—as one, more than most men of his time, who resembled some of the
Puritans of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. A few words may
give the outline of his career. Henry Havelock was born near
Sunderland in 1795. He was educated at the Charterhouse, and then
studied for the bar for a short time; but afterwards adopted the
military profession, following the example of his elder brother
William. He entered the 95th regiment just after the battle of
Waterloo, and during forty-two years saw a good deal of active
service. After serving eight years in the United Kingdom, he exchanged
into the 13th regiment, and went to India in 1823. He joined in the
first Burmese war, of which he afterwards wrote and published a
narrative. He served in various capacities twenty-three years before
he became a captain, having no patronage in high places to facilitate
his advancement. Then he served in the Afghan campaign, of which he
wrote a memoir; and took a leading part in the memorable defence of
Jelalabad. Rising gradually in office and in influence, he served in
later periods at Gwalior, Moodkee, Ferozshah, Sobraon, the Sutlej, and
other scenes of battle. When the Persian war broke out at the close of
1856, he was put in command of one division of the Anglo-Indian army;
and when that war ended, he returned to India. What he achieved during
1857 the foregoing pages have shewn. All classes in England mourned
his death. The Duke of Cambridge as commander-in-chief, Lords
Palmerston and Panmure as ministers of the crown, the Earl of Derby as
chief representative of the party at that time in opposition, the
Court of Directors, the Court of Proprietors, the corporation of
London, public functionaries and municipal bodies, religious and
missionary societies—all sought to pay respect to the noble soldier
who was at once pious, daring, and skilful. His widow, made Lady
Havelock in virtue of his knighthood, received a pension of £1000 a
year. His son received a baronetcy from the Queen, the rank of major
from the commander-in-chief, and a pension of £1000 a year from the
House of Commons. The public afterwards took up the subject of a
monument to the hero, and a provision for his daughters, as matters
not unworthy of support by voluntary efforts independent of the
government. With or without a monument, the name of Henry Havelock
will be held in grateful remembrance by the nation.
Sir Colin Campbell, like all around him, mourned the loss of his gallant
coadjutor; but his thoughts had no time to dwell on that topic. He had
to think of the living, to plan the march from the Dil Koosha to the
Alum Bagh, and thence onward to Cawnpore. Certain state-prisoners had to
be guarded, as well as the women and children, the sick and the wounded,
the treasure and the stores. The whole army was thrown into two
divisions: one under Brigadier Hope Grant, to form an escort from the
Dil Koosha to the Alum Bagh; the other, under Outram, to keep the enemy
at bay until the convoy was safely on its road. It was on the 24th that
this novel and picturesque procession set out. The distance to the Alum
Bagh was about four miles; and over the whole length of very rough road
was a stream of bullock-carriages, palanquins, carts, camels, elephants,
guns, ammunition and store wagons, soldiers, sailors (of the naval
brigade), sick, wounded, women, children, and prisoners. The delays were
great, the stoppages many, the fatigue distressing, the dust annoying;
and all gladly rested their weary limbs at the Alum Bagh when night
came.
It had been fully intended to afford the troops and their convoy several
days’ repose at the Alum Bagh; but on the 27th, Sir Colin was surprised
to hear very heavy firing in the direction of Cawnpore. No news had
reached him from that place for several days; therefore fearing some
disaster, he felt it necessary to push forward as quickly as possible.
Leaving Outram in command of part of the force at the Alum Bagh, and
placing the rest under the immediate command of Hope Grant, he resumed
his march at nine o’clock on the morning of the 28th. Messages now
reached him, telling of a reverse which General Windham had suffered at
Cawnpore, at the hands of the Gwalior mutineers. Sir Colin hastened
forward, convoy and all; but he and a few officers took the start, and
galloped on to Cawnpore that same night. The nature of Windham’s
disaster will come for notice in the next chapter; here we have only to
speak of its immediate effect upon Sir Colin’s plans. The enormous train
of helpless women, children, sick, and wounded, could cross the Ganges
and quit Oude only by a bridge of boats; if that were broken, the result
might be tragical indeed. Orders were sent for the heavy guns to hurry
on, and to take up such a position as would prevent the enemy from
destroying or attacking the bridge; while a mixed force of infantry,
cavalry, and horse-artillery was to cross quickly, and command the
Cawnpore end of the bridge. Happily all this was effected just in time.
When the passage was rendered safe, the artillery, the remaining troops,
and the non-combatants, were ordered to file over the bridge; this they
did, occupying the bridge in a continuous stream for _thirty
hours_—unmolested, owing to Sir Colin’s prompt plans, by the enemy’s
guns. All having safely crossed, the troops encamped around the ruinous
old intrenchment rendered memorable by the gallant spirit and hapless
fate of Sir Hugh Wheeler; while the women, children, sick, and wounded,
were put temporarily into occupation of the old foot-artillery lines.
[Illustration:
Fort of Alum Bagh, near Lucknow.
]
Although Sir Colin Campbell abandoned Lucknow for a while, he did not
abandon the Alum Bagh. This post, a compact enclosure, capable of being
defended on all sides, would afford an important base for future
operations if maintained. Taking Hope Grant’s division back with him to
Cawnpore, he left Outram with three to four thousand men to hold the
Alum Bagh against all odds, furnishing him with as large a supply as
possible of provisions and stores. This force consisted of all the
remaining or available companies of H.M. 5th, 78th, 84th, and 90th foot,
the Madras Europeans, the Ferozpore Sikhs, three field-batteries, some
heavy guns, two squadrons of the military train acting as dragoons, and
a body of irregular cavalry. While the enemy were busily engaged in
refortifying the city, so as to make it more formidable than ever, Sir
James was making the Alum Bagh proof against all their attacks. The
position thus occupied included not only the Alum Bagh itself, but a
standing camp about three-quarters of a mile distant, and the bridge of
Bunnee, which was separately held by 400 Madras sepoys and two guns.
Serious work and anxious thoughts occupied the mind of the
commander-in-chief. He could do little in active military operations
while so many helpless beings were depending on him for protection.
Hence the sojourn of those who, from sex, age, or sickness, could render
no active service at Cawnpore, was rendered as brief as possible.
Vehicles, animals, provisions, and stores, were quickly collected; and
on the 3d of December the march was resumed towards Allahabad—under an
escort of H.M. 34th foot, two guns, and some cavalry. How the released
Europeans fared on their journey; how they were cheered and greeted at
Allahabad; how they felicitated themselves on once again sleeping in
safety; and how they ultimately reached Calcutta by steamers on the
Ganges—need not be told in detail. Let it suffice to say that when the
ladies and children, with the invalided officers, who had passed through
so wonderful a series of events, were approaching Calcutta, Lord Canning
issued a notification, in which he said: ‘No one will wish to obtrude
upon those who are under bereavement or sickness any show of ceremony
which shall impose fatigue or pain. The best welcome which can be
tendered upon such an occasion is one which shall break in as little as
possible upon privacy and rest. But the rescue of these sufferers is a
victory beyond all price; and in testimony of the public joy with which
it is hailed, and of the admiration with which their heroic endurance
and courage are viewed,’ it was ordered that a royal salute should be
fired from the ramparts of Fort William as soon as the steamer arrived;
that all ships-of-war in the river should be dressed in honour of the
day; that officers would be appointed to conduct the passengers on
shore; and that the state-barges of the governor-general should be in
attendance.
Thus ended a great achievement. The women, children, sick, and wounded,
who had to be brought away from the very heart of a city swarming with
deadly enemies, and escorted through a country beset by mutinous sepoys
and rebellious chieftains, were not fewer than _two thousand_ in number.
Let it be remembered, that while this helpless train of persons was on
the way through Oude, behind them was the enormous hostile force of
Lucknow, while in front of them were the Gwalior mutineers flushed by a
recent victory. That all should have passed through this perilous ordeal
with scarcely the loss of one life, reflects lasting credit on the
generals who planned and executed the manœuvre. Of the five noble
officers whose names are imperishably connected with the extraordinary
sieges and defences of Lucknow—Inglis, Havelock, Neill, Outram, and
Campbell—two fell before the grateful thanks of their countrymen at home
could reach them; but the remaining three, when Christmas arrived, had
the infinite satisfaction of knowing that their arduous labours had been
rewarded by the safe arrival, at or near Calcutta, of the tender and
weakened, the broken-down and invalided—those who had so long formed the
European community in the Lucknow Residency.
Note.
_Cavanagh’s Adventure._—At p. 362 it is mentioned that Mr Cavanagh,
an uncovenanted civil servant of the Company in the Residency at
Lucknow, volunteered to make the perilous journey from that post to
the commander-in-chief’s camp many miles beyond the Alum Bagh, in
order to establish more complete correspondence between Sir James
Outram and Sir Colin Campbell than was possible by the simple medium
of a small note enclosed in a quill. Mr Cavanagh’s account of his
hair-breadth run was afterwards published in the Blue-books; and as
it affords a good idea of the state of Lucknow and its environs at
the time, we will reprint it here:
‘While passing through the intrenchment of Lucknow, about ten
o’clock A.M. on the 9th inst., I learned that a spy had come in from
Cawnpore, and that he was going back in the night as far as the Alum
Bagh with dispatches to his excellency, Sir Colin Campbell, the
commander-in-chief, who, it was said, was approaching Lucknow with
5000 or 6000 men.
‘I sought out the spy, whose name is Kanoujee Lall, and who was in
the court of the deputy-commissioner of Duriabad before the outbreak
in Oude. He had taken letters from the intrenchment before, but I
had never seen him till now. I found him intelligent, and imparted
to him my desire to venture in disguise to the Alum Bagh in his
company. He hesitated a great deal at acting as my guide, but made
no attempt to exaggerate the dangers of the road. He merely urged
that there was more chance of detection by our going together, and
proposed that we should take different roads, and meet outside of
the city, to which I objected. I left him to transact some business,
my mind dwelling all the time on the means of accomplishing my
object.
‘I had, some days previously, witnessed the preparation of plans
which were being made by direction of Sir James Outram to assist the
commander-in-chief in his march into Lucknow for the relief of the
besieged, and it then occurred to me that some one with the
requisite local knowledge ought to attempt to reach his excellency’s
camp beyond or at the Alum Bagh. The news of Sir Colin Campbell’s
advance revived the idea, and I made up my mind to go myself at two
o’clock, after finishing the business I was engaged upon. I
mentioned to Colonel R. Napier, chief of Sir James Outram’s staff,
that I was willing to proceed through the enemy to the Alum Bagh, if
the general thought my doing so would be of service to the
commander-in-chief. He was surprised at the offer, and seemed to
regard the enterprise as fraught with too much danger to be assented
to; but he did me the favour of communicating the offer to Sir James
Outram, because he considered that my zeal deserved to be brought to
his notice.
‘Sir James did not encourage me to undertake the journey, declaring
that he thought it so dangerous that he would not himself have asked
any officer to attempt it. I, however, spoke so confidently of
success, and treated the dangers so lightly, that he at last
yielded, and did me the honour of adding, that if I succeeded in
reaching the commander-in-chief, my knowledge would be a great help
to him.
‘I secretly arranged for a disguise, so that my departure might not
be known to my wife, as she was not well enough to bear the prospect
of an eternal separation. When I left home, about seven o’clock in
the evening, she thought I was gone on duty for the night to the
mines; for I was working as an assistant field-engineer, by order of
Sir James Outram.
‘By half-past seven o’clock my disguise was completed, and when I
entered the room of Colonel Napier, no one in it recognised me. I
was dressed as a budmash, or as an irregular soldier of the city,
with sword and shield, native-made shoes, tight trousers, a yellow
silk koortah over a tight-fitting white muslin shirt, a
yellow-coloured chintz sheet thrown round my shoulders, a
cream-coloured turban, and a white waistband or kumurbund. My face,
down to the shoulders, and my hands, to the wrists, were coloured
with lampblack, the cork used being dipped in oil to cause the
colour to adhere a little. I could get nothing better. I had little
confidence in the disguise of my features, and I trusted more to the
darkness of the night; but Sir James Outram and his staff seemed
satisfied. After being provided with a small double-barrelled
pistol, and a pair of broad pyjamahs over the tight drawers, I
proceeded with Kanoujee Lall to the right bank of the river Goomtee,
running north of our intrenchment, accompanied by Captain Hardinge,
of the irregular cavalry.
‘Here we undressed and quietly forded the river, which was only
about four and a half feet deep, and about a hundred yards wide at
this point. My courage failed me while in the water, and if my guide
had been within reach, I should perhaps have pulled him back and
abandoned the enterprise; but he waded quickly through the stream.
Reaching the opposite bank, we went crouching up a ditch for three
hundred yards, to a grove of low trees on the edge of a pond, where
we stopped to dress. While we were here, a man came down to the pond
to wash, and went away again without observing us.
‘My confidence now returned to me, and with my tulwar resting on my
shoulder we advanced into the huts in front, where I accosted a
matchlockman, who answered to my remark that the night was cold: “It
is very cold—in fact, it is a cold night.” I passed him, adding that
it would be colder by and by.
‘After going six or seven hundred yards further, we reached the iron
bridge over the Goomtee, where we were stopped and called over by a
native officer who was seated in an upper-storied house, and seemed
to be in command of a cavalry picket, whose horses were near the
place saddled. My guide advanced to the light, and I stayed a little
back in the shade. After being told that we had come from
Mundeon—our old cantonment, and then in the possession of the
enemy—and that we were going into the city to our homes, he let us
proceed. We continued on along the left bank of the river to the
stone bridge, which is about eight or nine hundred yards from the
iron bridge, passing unnoticed through a number of sepoys and
matchlockmen, some of whom were escorting persons of rank in
palanquins preceded by torches.
‘Recrossing the Goomtee by the stone bridge, we went by a sentry
unobserved, who was closely questioning a dirtily dressed native,
and into the chowk or principal street of the city of Lucknow, which
was not illuminated as much as it used to be previous to the siege,
nor was it so crowded. I jostled against several armed men in the
street without being spoken to, and only met one guard of seven
sepoys, who were amusing themselves with some women of pleasure.
‘When issuing from the city into the country, we were challenged by
a chowkeedar, or watchman, who, without stopping us, merely asked
who we were. The part of the city traversed that night by me seemed
to have been deserted by at least a third of its inhabitants.
‘I was in great spirits when we reached the green fields, into which
I had not been for five months. Everything around us smelt sweet,
and a carrot I took from the roadside was the most delicious I had
ever tasted. I gave vent to my feelings in a conversation with
Kanoujee Lall, who joined in my admiration of the province of Oude,
and lamentation that it was now in the hands of wretches whose
misgovernment and rapacity were ruining it.
‘A further walk of a few miles was accomplished in high spirits. But
there was trouble before us. We had taken the wrong road, and were
now quite out of our way in the Dil Koosha Park, which was occupied
by the enemy. I went within twenty yards of two guns to see what
strength they were, and returned to the guide, who was in great
alarm, and begged I would not distrust him because of the mistake,
as it was caused by his anxiety to take me away from the pickets of
the enemy. I bade him not to be frightened of me, for I was not
annoyed, as such accidents were not unfrequent even when there was
no danger to be avoided. It was now about midnight. We endeavoured
to persuade a cultivator, who was watching his crop, to shew us the
way for a short distance, but he urged old age and lameness; and
another, whom I peremptorily told to come with us, ran off
screaming, and alarmed the whole village. We next walked quickly
away into the canal, running under the Char Bagh, in which I fell
several times, owing to my shoes being wet and slippery and my feet
sore. The shoes were hard and tight, and had rubbed the skin off my
toes, and cut into the flesh above the heels.
‘In two hours more we were again in the right direction, two women
in the village we passed having kindly helped us to find it. About
two o’clock we reached an advanced picket of sepoys, who told us the
way, after asking where we had come from, and whither we were going.
I thought it safer to go up to the picket, than to try to pass them
unobserved.
‘Kanoujee Lall now begged I would not press him to take me into the
Alum Bagh, as he did not know the way in, and the enemy were
strongly posted around the place. I was tired, and in pain from the
shoes, and would therefore have preferred going into the Alum Bagh;
but, as the guide feared attempting it, I desired him to go on to
the camp of the commander-in-chief, which he said was near Bunnee (a
village eighteen miles from Lucknow) upon the Cawnpore road. The
moon had risen by this time, and we could see well ahead.
‘By three o’clock we arrived at a grove of mango-trees, situated on
a plain, in which a man was singing at the top of his voice. I
thought he was a villager, but he got alarmed on hearing us
approach; and astonished us, too, by calling out a guard of
twenty-five sepoys, all of whom asked questions. Kanoujee Lall here
lost heart for the first time, and threw away the letter intrusted
to him for Sir Colin Campbell. I kept mine safe in my turban. We
satisfied the guard that we were poor men travelling to Umroula, a
village two miles this side of the chief’s camp, to inform a friend
of the death of his brother by a shot from the British intrenchment
at Lucknow, and they told us the road. They appeared to be greatly
relieved on discovering that it was not their terrible foe, who was
only a few miles in advance of them. We went in the direction
indicated by them, and after walking for half an hour we got into a
jheel or swamp, which are numerous and large in Oude. We had to wade
through it for two hours up to our waists in water, and through
weeds; for before we found out that we were in a jheel, we had gone
too far to recede. I was nearly exhausted on getting out of the
water, having made great exertions to force our way through the
weeds, and to prevent the colour being washed off my face. It was
nearly gone from my hands.
‘I now rested for fifteen minutes, despite the remonstrances of the
guide, and went forward, passing between two pickets of the enemy,
who had no sentries thrown out. It was near four o’clock in the
morning when I stopped at the corner of a tope or grove of trees to
sleep for an hour, which Kanoujee Lall entreated I would not do; but
I thought he overrated the danger, and, lying down, I told him to
see if there was any one in the grove who would tell him where we
then were.
‘We had not gone far when I heard the English challenge “Who comes
there?” with a native accent. We had reached a British cavalry
outpost: my eyes filled with joyful tears, and I shook the Sikh
officer in charge of the picket heartily by the hand. The old
soldier was as pleased as myself when he heard whence I had come;
and he was good enough to send two of his men to conduct me to the
camp of the advance-guard. An officer of her Majesty’s 9th Lancers,
who was visiting his pickets, met me on the way, and took me to his
tent, where I got dry stockings and trousers, and, what I much
needed, a glass of brandy—a liquor I had not tasted for nearly two
months.
‘I thanked God for having safely conducted me through this dangerous
enterprise, and Kanoujee Lall for the courage and intelligence with
which he had conducted himself during this trying night. When we
were questioned, he let me speak as little as possible. He always
had a ready answer, and I feel that I am indebted to him in a great
measure more than to myself for my escape. It will give me great
satisfaction to hear that he has been suitably rewarded.
‘In undertaking this enterprise, I was actuated by a sense of duty,
believing that I could be of use to his excellency the
commander-in-chief when approaching, for its relief, the besieged
garrison, which had heroically resisted the attack of thirty times
its own number for nearly five months, within a weak and irregular
intrenchment; and, secondly, because I was anxious to perform some
service which would insure to me the honour of wearing our Most
Gracious Majesty’s Cross.
‘My reception by Sir Colin Campbell and his staff was cordial and
kind to the utmost degree; and if I never have more than the
remembrance of their condescension and of the heartfelt
congratulation of Sir James Outram and of all the officers of his
garrison on my safe return to them—I shall not repine, though to be
sure having the Victoria Cross would make me a prouder and a happier
man.
‘JAMES CAVANAGH.
‘_Camp, Alum Bagh, Nov. 24._’
[Illustration:
GROUP OF MAHRATTA ARMS.—From the Collection of Sir S. Meyrick: _a_
_a_, Helmet; _b_, Sword; _c_, Musket; _d_, Knife and Sheath; _e_,
Mace; _f_, Shield.
]
-----
Footnote 115:
‘Story of the Lucknow Residency,’ chap. xix. pp. 316-337.
Footnote 116:
The _thalookdaree_ system of Oude requires a little explanation, in
relation to the participants in the Revolt. Most of the annexations
effected by the East India Company were followed by changes either in
the ownership of the soil, or in the assessment of land-tax—such
land-tax being the chief item in the Company’s revenue. When the
several annexations occurred, it was found throughout a great part of
India that superior holders—whether proprietors, hereditary farmers of
revenue, or hereditary middlemen—held large tracts of land, in a
middle position between the native governments and the cultivating
communities, and were responsible for the revenue to the state. In
Bengal, these influential men were generally recognised by the Company
as proprietors, and the rights of the sub-holders almost wholly
ignored. In the Northwest Provinces, acquired by the Company at a much
later date, the thalookdars, zemindars, or whatever these landowners
may have been called, were generally set aside; but the asserted
rights of some of them became subjects of endless litigation in the
courts of law; the landowners frequently obtained decrees against the
Company, and many received a percentage in compromise of their rights
or claims. In Oude, annexed in 1856, the thalookdaree system was
particularly strong. Almost the whole country had by degrees become
parcelled out among great thalookdars or zemindars. Though under a
Mohammedan government, these men were almost universally
Hindoos—native chiefs who had obtained great prescription, exercised
great power and authority, and were in fact feudatories of the
government. They were much more than mere middlemen or farmers of
revenue. They had their own forts, troops, and guns; they obeyed their
nawab or king so far as they chose or were compelled; they seized with
the strong hand estates which had unquestionably belonged to village
communities in earlier times; and they fought with each other as
English barons or Scottish clan-chieftains were wont to do in past
ages. Sir William Sleeman estimated the number of armed retainers,
whose services these thalookdars could command, at scarcely less than
one hundred thousand; while they had nearly five hundred pieces of
cannon in their several forts or strongholds. Under this system the
village proprietary rights, even if not actually thrown aside and
disregarded, became more weak and undefined than when the villagers
held directly from the government. Hence arose a very embarrassing
question when the Company took possession of Oude. With whom was the
settlement to be made? The thalookdars were strong and in possession;
the village communities were dormant, broken, and ill defined. It
would have taken some time to suppress the one and revive the other.
The opinions of revenue officers in the Northwest Provinces ran
strongly in favour of village proprietaries; still stronger in the
Punjaub; and Oude was treated somewhat in the same way. The result in
many cases was to eject the thalookdars, and make direct settlements
with the village communities. When the Revolt began, the thalookdars
at first behaved well to the British personally; with the butchery by
a rabble they had no sympathy; and many were the Europeans whose lives
they saved. But, the Company’s government being for a time upset; and
the period since the annexation having been too short to destroy the
strength of the thalookdars, or to enable the village proprietors to
acquire a steady possession of their rights—the thalookdars almost
universally resumed what they considered to be their own. There is
evidence, too, that in this course of proceeding they met with a
considerable amount of popular support. It was in this way they became
committed against the British government. Till Havelock’s retreat from
his unsuccessful attempt to relieve Lucknow in August, the thalookdars
adopted a temporising policy; but when they saw him and Outram retreat
across the Ganges to Cawnpore, they thought their time had arrived.
They began to act in concert—not because they had much sympathy with
mutinous sepoys, with the decrepit king of Delhi, or with the deposed
king of Oude—but in the hope that, amid the general anarchy, they
might regain their old influence.
Footnote 117:
See NOTE, at the end of this chapter.
Footnote 118:
One of the two hard-worked and sorely tried chaplains, in a letter to
a relation when the dangers were past, employed a few simple words
that really described the position of the Residency enclosure better
than any long technical details. English friends had talked and
written concerning the ‘impregnable fort’ in which the garrison were
confined; to which he replied: ‘We were in no fort at all; we occupied
a few houses in a large garden, with a low wall on one side, and only
an earthen parapet on the other, in the middle of a large city, the
buildings of which completely commanded us, and swarming with
thousands of our deadly foes, thirsting for our blood. God gave us
protection and pluck, the former in a wonderful degree, or not one of
us would be here to tell about it.... The engineers calculated that
all those months never one second elapsed without a shot being thrown
in at us, and at times upwards of seventy per second, besides round
shot and shell.’ This probably means that the _average_ was a shot per
second for nearly five months—_twelve or fourteen million deadly
missiles_ thrown into this narrow and crowded space.
Footnote 119:
H.M. 8th, 53d, 75th, and 93d foot.
2d and 4th Punjaub infantry.
H.M. 9th Lancers.
Detachments 1st, 2d, and 5th Punjaub cavalry.
Detachment Hodson’s Horse.
Detachments Bengal and Punjaub Sappers and Miners.
Naval brigade, 8 guns; Bengal H.A., 10 guns.
Bengal horse field-battery, 6 guns; Heavy field-battery.
—About 700 cavalry and 2700 Infantry, besides artillery.
Footnote 120:
Detachments H.M. 23d and 82d foot.
Detachments Madras horse-artillery, royal artillery, royal engineers,
and military train.
Footnote 121:
The officers killed were Lieutenant-colonel Biddulph; Captains Hardy,
Wheatcroft, Dalzell, and Lumsden; Lieutenants Mayne, Frankland, and
Dobbs; Ensign Thompson; and Midshipman Daniel. The wounded were Sir
Colin Campbell; Brigadier Russell; Lieutenant-colonels Ewart and Hale;
Majors Alison and Barnston; Captains Alison, Anson, Grant, Hammond,
Travers, Walton, and Burroughs; Lieutenants Salmond, Milman, Ford,
Halkett, Munro, French, Wynne, Cooper, Welch, Goldsmith, Wood, Paul,
M’Queen, Oldfield, and Henderson; Ensigns Watson, Powell, and
M’Namara; Midshipman Lord A. P. Clinton; and Assistant-surgeon Veale.
Footnote 122:
‘I am aware of no parallel to our series of mines in modern war.
Twenty-one shafts, aggregating 200 feet in depth, and 3291 feet of
gallery, have been executed. The enemy advanced twenty mines against
the palaces and outposts; of these they exploded three, which caused
us loss of life, and two which did no injury; seven have been blown
in; and out of seven others the enemy have been driven, and their
galleries taken possession of by our miners—results of which the
engineer department may well be proud. The reports and plans forwarded
by Sir Henry Havelock, K.C.B., and now submitted to his excellency,
will explain how a line of gardens, courts, and dwelling-houses,
without fortified _enceinte_, without flanking defences, and closely
connected with the buildings of a city, has been maintained for eight
weeks in a certain degree of security; notwithstanding the close and
constant musketry-fire from loopholed walls and windows, often within
thirty yards, and from every lofty building within rifle-range, and
notwithstanding a frequent though desultory fire of round-shot and
grape from guns posted at various distances, from seventy to five
hundred yards. This result has been obtained by the skill and courage
of the engineer and quartermaster-general’s departments, zealously
aided by the brave officers and soldiers, who have displayed the same
cool determination and cheerful alacrity in the toils of the trench
and amid the concealed dangers of the mine that they had previously
exhibited when forcing their way into Lucknow at the point of the
bayonet, and amid a most murderous fire.’
Footnote 123:
The fate of the few English prisoners at Lucknow is not clearly
traceable; but one account has stated that four Englishmen were put to
death on the night when the Residency was finally evacuated. When the
English troops, the women and children, the guns and baggage, and a
quarter of a million sterling in silver, had safely reached the Dil
Koosha, the leaders among the rebels became enraged beyond measure at
a manœuvre which completely balked them. A few of them rushed to the
Kaiser Bagh, where the unfortunate prisoners were confined, tied four
of them—Sir Mountstuart Jackson, Mr Orr, Mr Barnes, and Sergeant
Martin—to guns, and blew them away. The ladies were said to have been
spared at the intercession of one of the begums or princesses of Oude.