STATE OF AFFAIRS AT THE END OF JUNE.
Although the military operations conducted by Sir Hugh Rose and his
heroic companions, bearing relation to the reconquest of Gwalior, and
the re-establishment of Scindia on his Mahratta throne, were the most
interesting events in India during the month of June, the other
provinces also witnessed struggles and contests which equally need to be
chronicled; seeing that they all contributed towards the one great and
earnestly desired result—the pacification of the Anglo-Indian empire.
Terrible, it is true, were the labours of the gallant men who fought and
marched against the rebels under the scorching heat of an Indian
sun—heat which was that year excessive, even for India itself; but such
labours were necessary, and were borne with a degree of cheerfulness
which commands our admiration for the sterling qualities of British
troops. Sir Colin Campbell yearned to place his brave men under shade
and at rest, until such time as the rains should have cooled down the
summer’s fiery temperature; he did so to such an extent as was
practicable; but this extent was not great. June, as we shall see, was a
month of much fighting in the regions adjacent to the Ganges, the Jumna,
the Chumbul, and the Sone.
Calcutta saw nothing of the governor-general during many months. He took
up his abode at Allahabad; filling the offices not only of
governor-general of the whole of India, but special governor of some of
those disturbed regions which had at one time been called the Northwest
Provinces, and at another the Central Provinces. This he had done in
order that he might be in more easy communication with the
commander-in-chief, and in more prompt receipt of intelligence from the
various stations and camps in Oude, Behar, Rohilcund, the Doab,
Bundelcund, Central India, and Rajpootana. How the weight of
responsibility pressed on one who had to govern at such a time and in
such a climate, few were aware; he worked on, early and late, thinking
only how best he could act as the Queen’s viceroy for India. Calcutta
had not much more to do with Lord Canning’s proceedings at that period,
than the other presidential cities; for he had his staff of government
employés with him at Allahabad.
Bengal was nearly at peace in June; few troubles disturbed the equable
flow of commerce and industry. One slight transaction of an opposite
kind may, however, be briefly noticed. A body of sailors sent from
Calcutta had an opportunity of bringing some rebels to an account, and
defeating them in the wonted style. A naval brigade, under Captain
Moore, was stationed in the district of Singbhoom, southwest of
Calcutta, near the frontier between the Bengal and Madras presidencies.
The district comprised the four petty states of Singbhoom, Colehan,
Surakella, and Khursawa, each of which had its rajah or chieftain. The
only town of any note in the district was Chyebassa; and here was the
Company’s civil station. The Rajah of Singbhoom, at the period now under
notice, was endeavouring, like many other rajahs, to strengthen himself
by throwing off British supremacy. It happened, on the 9th of the month,
when the brigade was encamped at Chuckerderpore, but when some of the
officers had gone to Chyebassa, that the camp was suddenly attacked by
the rajah’s motley retinue of Koles, a half-savage tribe armed with
battle-axes, bows and arrows, spears, and matchlocks. They invested the
camp on all sides, and made a very fierce attack. The seamen poured in a
few shells among them, which threw them into much disorder. After this a
party of thirty went out, and committed much havoc among them in a
hand-to-hand contest. Captain Moncrieff then rode in from Chyebassa,
with a cavalry escort, and at once engaged with the rebels. After five
hours’ skirmishing, the mid-day sun exhausted alike Europeans and Koles;
and nothing further occurred till the morning of the 10th. The rebels
were so numerous that the brigade could only attack them on one side at
once; and thus it was not until the arrival of a hundred Ramgurh troops
and fifty Sikhs, at noon on the 11th, that the rajah and his Koles gave
way—retreating to the jungles of Porahaut.
In other parts of Bengal there were petty chieftains of like
character, who were quite willing to set up as kings on their own
account—regardless of treaties existing between them and the Company,
and actuated solely by the temptations afforded during a period of
disorder. But the conditions were not favourable to them. The meek and
cowardly Bengalees did not imitate the Hindustanis of the Doab and
Oude; the hill-tribes were too few in number to be formidable; and the
steady arrival of British troops at Calcutta strengthened the hands of
the authorities in all the surrounding regions. Arrangements were
gradually made for increasing the number of European troops at
Calcutta, Dacca, Barrackpore, Berhampore, Hazarebagh, Jessore, and one
or two other stations—so as to place the whole of Bengal more
immediately under the eye of the military authorities.
These defensive measures extended as far north as Darjeeling—one of
those healthy and temperate Hill-stations which have so often been
adverted to in former chapters as important _sanitaria_ for the English
in India. Simla, Landour, Kussowlie, Subathoo, Mussouree, Dugshai,
Almora, and Nynee Tal, are all of this character; and to these may be
added Darjeeling. A patch of hill-country, containing about three
hundred square miles, and formerly belonging to the Rajah of Sikim, was
obtained by the Company a few years ago, and Darjeeling established near
its centre. The Himalayas bound it on the north, Nepaul on the west,
Bhotan on the east, and two of the Bengal districts on the south. The
hills and valleys are beautiful, and the climate healthy. Darjeeling is
more particularly mentioned in this place, because, about the date to
which this chapter refers, public attention was called to a project for
establishing a settlement called Hope Town, on the slopes of a hill near
Darjeeling. This settlement was to be for independent emigrants,
colonists, or settlers, from the plains, or even from Europe; who, it
was hoped, might be tempted to that region by a fertile soil and a
magnificent climate, and thus gradually introduce English farming at the
base of the Himalayas. A company or society purchased or leased about
fourteen thousand acres of hill-land, in Darjeeling district, but not in
immediate contiguity to Darjeeling town. It was announced that the
locality contained clay for bricks, rubble for masonry, lime for mortar,
timber for carpentry and for fuel, and all the essential requisites for
building; water was abundant, from the mountain streams and springs;
while peaceful natives in the neighbouring plains would be eager to
obtain employment as artisans and labourers. The elevation of the land,
varying from three to six thousand feet, offered much facility of
choice. As the government had commenced a road from Darjeeling and Hope
Town to Caragola Ghât on the Ganges, there would be good markets for
hill produce in many parts of Bengal—perhaps in Calcutta itself. When
the project of this Hope Town settlement was first formed in 1856, it
was intended that the projectors should grant leases of small plots for
farms or dwellings, for a fixed number of years, and at a rental so
small as to attract settlers; while at the same time this rental should
so far exceed what the speculators paid to the government as to enable
them to construct a road, and build a school-room, church, library, and
other component elements for a town. This, it may be observed, was only
one among several colonising projects brought before public notice in
India. The land containing many magnificent tracts, and the climate
presenting many varieties of temperature, it has often been urged that
that noble country presents advantages for settlement which ought no
longer to be overlooked. So long as the East India Company’s power
existed, any colonising schemes would necessarily prove almost abortive;
but now that British India owns no other ruler than the sovereign of
England, there may in future years be an opening offered for the
thorough examination and testing of this important question, that its
merits and demerits may be fairly compared. Some of the advocates of
colonisation have painted imaginary pictures so glowing as to represent
India as the true Dorado or Golden Land of the widely spreading British
empire; some of the opponents of colonisation, on the other hand, have
asserted that British farmers could not live in India if they would, and
would not if they could:—the future will strike out a practicable mean
between these two extremes.
The controversy concerning Indian heat, in reference to the wants and
constitutions of English settlers, bore very closely on the subject of
colonisation, and on the difference between the hilly districts and the
plains. In military matters, however, and in reference to the struggle
actually going on, all admitted that the summer of 1858 had been more
than usually fierce in its heat. A correspondent of one of the journals
said: ‘As if to try the endurance of Englishmen to the utmost, the
season has been such as has not been known since 1833. Those who know
Bengal will understand it when I say that on the 15th inst. one
clergyman in Calcutta buried forty-eight Englishmen, chiefly sailors. In
one ship the captain, chief-mate, and twenty-six men, had all apoplexy
at once. Nine men from Fort-William were buried one morning from the
same cause. Her Majesty’s 19th, at Barrackpore, who are nearly all under
cover, and who are most carefully looked after, have 200 men unfit for
duty from immense boils. All over the country paragraph after paragraph
announces the deaths of so many men at such a place from apoplexy.’ The
same writer mentions the case of a colonel who, just arrived with his
regiment at Calcutta, and, unfamiliar with an Indian climate, marched
off his men _with their stocks on_: in an hour afterwards he and his
instructor in rifle-practice were both dead from apoplexy.
Before quitting Calcutta, it may be well to mention that the month of
June was marked by an honourable and energetic movement for recording
the services and cherishing the memory of Mr Venables, one of those
civil servants of the Company who displayed an undaunted spirit, and
considerable military talent, in times of great trial. It will be
remembered that, after many months of active service, both civil and
military, Mr Venables was wounded at Azimghur on the 15th of April;[180]
from the effects of this wound he soon afterwards sank—dying as he had
lived, a frank and gallant man. A committee was formed in Calcutta to
found, by individual subscriptions, some sort of memorial worthy of the
man. Viscount Canning took an early opportunity of joining in this
manifestation; and in a letter to the committee he spoke of Mr Venables
in the following terms: ‘It will be a satisfaction to me to join in this
good work, not only on account of the admiration which I feel for the
high qualities which Mr Venables devoted to the public service, his
intrepidity in the field, his energy and calm temper in upholding the
civil authority, and his thoroughly just appreciation of the people and
circumstances with which he had to deal; but also, and especially, on
account of circumstances attending the last service which Mr Venables
rendered to his country. After the capture of Lucknow, where he was
attached to Brigadier General Franks’ column, Mr Venables came to
Allahabad. He was broken in health and spirits, anxious for rest, and
looking forward eagerly to his return to England, for which his
preparations were made. At that time the appearance of affairs near
Azimghur was threatening; and I asked Mr Venables to forego his
departure from India, and return to that district, with which he was
intimately acquainted—there to assist in preserving order until danger
should have passed away. He at once consented cheerfully; and that
consent cost him his life. I am certain that the Court of Directors, who
are fully informed of all particulars of Mr Venables’s great services
and untimely death, will be eager to mark, in such manner as shall seem
best to them, their appreciation of the character of this brave,
self-denying English gentleman; and I am truly glad to have an
opportunity of joining with his fellow-countrymen in India in testifying
the sincere respect which I feel for his memory.’
Beyond the limits of Bengal, one of the many interesting questions that
pressed upon public attention bore relation to Nepaul and Jung Bahadoor.
That gay, gorgeous, shrewd, and unscrupulous chieftain had gone back to
his own country somewhat dissatisfied with his share in the Oude
campaign, or with the advantages accruing from it. Queen Victoria had
made him a Grand Cross of the Bath—a gentle knight ‘sans peur et sans
reproche,’ according to the original meaning of that honourable
distinction; but there were those who believed he would have better
welcomed some more substantial recognition of his services, such as a
fair slice out of the territory of Oude. Some doubted his fidelity to
the British cause, and among these were several of the leaders among the
rebels. There came to light a most remarkable correspondence, shewing in
what way Jung Bahadoor was tempted to swerve from his allegiance, and in
what way he resisted the temptation. Several letters were made public—by
what agency does not clearly appear—addressed by the Begum of Oude and
her adherents to the Nepaulese chieftain. About the period to which this
chapter relates, the rebel party at Lucknow disseminated rumours to the
effect that Jung Bahadoor, after his return to Nepaul, had been written
to by the Begum, and that he had undertaken to throw in his lot with the
‘patriots’ of Oude. That the attempt was made is clear enough; but the
nature of the response, so far as the published correspondence revealed
it, certainly does not seem to implicate him. One letter, apparently
written about the end of May, was signed by Mahomed Surfraz Ali, who
designated himself ambassador of the King of Oude. It began by
expressing astonishment that Nepaul should have aided the infidel
British, after having in former days been in friendly alliance with
Oude. ‘The chiefs of every tribe,’ it said, ‘should fight for their
religion as long as they live.’ Considering that the Oude royal family
were Mohammedans, and the Nepaulese Hindoos, the ambassador had some
difficulty in so framing his letter as to prove that Jung Bahadoor ought
to aid them rather than the English; and indeed his logic was somewhat
lame. The ambassador stated that he was then writing at Toolseepore,
whither he had been sent by the powerful Moulvie Ahmedoolah Shah, on the
part of the King of Oude, to act as accredited agent or ambassador with
the Nepaul authorities. He proceeded to state that seven letters, in the
Persian language, had been written by Mahomed Khan Bahadoor, viceroy of
Oude, to as many of the chief personages in Oude—among others, to Jung
Bahadoor himself; and that two letters, in the Hindee language, had been
written under the seal of the King of Oude, one addressed to the King of
Nepaul, and one to Jung Bahadoor. Mahomed Surfraz Ali added: ‘Neither I
nor the servants of our government are acquainted with your titles, or
those of your authorities, so we cannot address you properly. I am in
hopes that you will send me word how we should address you; and pray
forgive any mistakes or omissions in this letter.’ He begged the favour
of a letter, with the chieftain’s seal attached, for presentation to the
court of Oude. The letters purporting to be written by or for ‘Ramzan
Ali Khan Mirza Birjiz Kudr Bahadoor,’ King of Oude, assumed quite a
regal style, and almost claimed the alliance of the Nepaul Maharajah as
a right. The royal letter-writer made short work of the causes of the
mutiny: ‘The British some time ago attempted to interfere with the faith
of both the Hindoos and the Mohammedans, by preparing cartridges with
cows’ grease for the Hindoos, and that of pigs’ for the Mohammedans, and
ordering them to bite them with their teeth. The sepoys refused, and
were ordered by the British to be blown away from guns on the
parade-ground. This is the cause of the war breaking out, and probably
you are acquainted with it. But I am ignorant as to how they managed to
get your troops, which they brought down here, and began to commit every
sort of violence, and to pull down temples, mosques, imaumbarahs, and
sacred places. You are well aware of the treachery of the British; and
it is proper you should preserve the standard of religion, and make the
tree of friendship between you and me fresh.’ The real correspondents,
in this exchange of letters, were the Begum of Oude and Jung Bahadoor.
The astute chieftain wrote a reply, couched in such terms as to suggest
a probability that the British resident at Khatmandoo was at his elbow.
One of his high-flown paragraphs ran thus: ‘Since the star of faith and
integrity, sincerity in words as well as in acts, and wisdom and
comprehension, of the British, are shining as bright as the sun in every
quarter of the globe, be assured that my government will never disunite
itself from the friendship of the exalted British government, or be
instigated to join with any monarch against it, be he as high as heaven.
What grounds can we have for connecting ourselves with the Hindoos and
Mohammedans of Hindostan?’ And he ended with this bit of advice: ‘As you
have sent me a friendly letter, let me persuade you, that if any person,
Hindoo or Mohammedan, who has not murdered a British lady or child, goes
immediately to Mr Montgomery, the chief-commissioner of Lucknow, and
surrenders his arms, and makes submission, he will be permitted to
retain his honour, and his crime will be pardoned. If you still be
inclined to make war on the British, no rajah or king in the world will
give you an asylum; and death will be the end of it.’ This reply,
supposing it to be a spontaneous expression of the real sentiments of
Jung Bahadoor, would have possessed very high value; but a large
deduction must probably be made both from the spontaneity and the
sincerity.
It may perhaps be well to notice that the royal house of Oude was at
discord with itself in those days, and that the king’s name was used ‘as
a tower of strength’ by intriguers who cared little for rightful
ownership. The real king—that is, the ex-king—was at Calcutta, a
prisoner and a half-idiot, with depravity enough to enjoy plots, but not
brains to execute them. The legitimate son and heir, so to speak, was in
Europe, where he had lately buried his grandmother the dowager-queen of
Oude, and was spending his father’s money at a very rapid rate. The
regal personages at Lucknow were the Begum and her son. The Begum was
one of the king’s many ladies; and her son was a weak-headed youth of
thirteen years old—‘illegitimate,’ according to the assertions of the
‘legitimate’ son at that time in Europe. The exiled king and his two
sons were, in reference to these machinations at Lucknow, mere tools or
pretences; the real mover was the clever and ambitious Begum. In Nepaul,
likewise, the real power was possessed, not by the maharajah, or
sovereign, but by his all-controlling, king-making subject, Jung
Bahadoor.
The proceedings of the Oudian intriguers during the month of June will
presently be noticed in other ways; but it will be convenient first to
attend to the affairs of Behar.
In former chapters it has been narrated, in sufficient fulness for the
purpose in view, how the western provinces of Behar were troubled by the
Jugdispore and Dinapoor rebels, and with how many difficulties Sir
Edward Lugard had to contend in bringing his ‘Azimghur Field-force’ to
bear against them. The month of June offered no exception to this state
of things. Most harassing indeed were the labours which they brought
upon him, testing his patience and perseverance more, perhaps, than his
military skill. Notwithstanding the numerous defeats which they had
suffered, these mutinied sepoys and armed budmashes were continually
moving from place to place—giving evidence of their presence by murder,
plunder, and burning. The jungles around Jugdispore afforded many
facilities for hiding and secret flight. One of the many defeats
inflicted by Sir Edward occurred on the 27th of May. Immediately
afterwards a body of several hundreds of those insurgents issued from
the eastern portion of the jungle, and shewed themselves in their true
character as marauders bent on mischief, rather than as soldiers
fighting for a definite cause. On the 30th they burned an indigo factory
at Twining Gunge, a place near Dumoran; whilst on the same day another
body advanced to the village of Rajpore, within eight miles of Buxar,
and murdered two natives in government service. From thence they
wandered, during the next four or five days, among the neighbouring
villages, working mischief at every step. In anything like a military
sense, these bands of marauders were contemptible; but so numerous were
the unemployed and half-fed ruffians in the disturbed districts, that
there were always materials at hand for swelling the numbers of these
freebooting insurgents. Lugard was compelled to keep his troops moving
about, between Arrah and Buxar; while the authorities at Ghazeepore and
Benares were on the alert to check any advance of the rebels towards
those cities. On the 2d of June he divided his force into two wings, and
established camps at Keshwa and Dulleepore, with a line of posts across
the jungle. On the next day he cut a broad road through the jungle to
connect the two camps. Having thus completely hemmed a considerable body
of the rebels within the southern end of the jungle, he attacked them
with his whole force on the 4th, with a very successful result—so far as
regarded the maintenance of military superiority. The rebels attempted
for a time to make a stand; but the 10th and 84th foot, charging with
the bayonet, defeated them with great slaughter. Here again, however,
was the old story repeated; his hope of capturing the main body of
rebels was frustrated; they broke up into small bands, and fled in
various directions.
Instead of describing numerous petty contests that occurred during the
month, it may be well to illustrate the peculiar characteristics of the
struggle by one particular instance, to shew that the British troops in
Behar had more certainty of hard work than chance of glory. During the
first week in June, Sir Edward intrusted to Brigadier Douglas the duty
of intercepting a body of rebels from the Jugdispore district towards
Buxar—a difficult duty, on account of the ingenuity of the rebels in
eluding pursuit. Douglas started on the 7th, taking with him H.M. 84th
foot, a troop of the 4th Madras cavalry, three troops of the military
train, and three guns of the royal horse-artillery. On that and the two
following days he marched to Buxar, by way of Shahpoor and Saumgunje.
Between the 10th and the 13th he was busily engaged in the almost
hopeless task of catching the rebels who were known to be marching and
marauding not far distant. Now he would descry a few hundred of them in
a tope of trees, and send his horse-artillery to disperse them with
grape-shot; now he would cross the little river Surronuddee, or the
Kurrumnassa, or hasten to the Sheapoor Ghât, in the hope of cutting off
fugitives; now he would march through or near the villages of Ghamur,
Chawsa, or Barra, in search either of rebels or of intelligence. His
success by no means repaid him for his harassing exertions; he could
seldom rely on information obtained concerning the movements of the
rebels, and still more seldom could he catch the rebels themselves. In
his dispatch relating to these operations, the brigadier said: ‘Three
men of the royal horse-artillery died during the night from the effects
of the sun, and one man of the 84th.... The heat during the operations
was intense, and the troops suffered much, particularly the 84th
regiment, who have now been thirteen months in the field. I consider
this regiment at present to be quite unfit for active service; the men
have no positive disease, but they are so exhausted that they can
neither eat nor sleep.’ If they could have encountered the enemy, and
thoroughly vanquished them in a regular battle, the overworked and
heat-worn soldiers would have borne this and more than this cheerfully;
but they had to deal with rebels who eluded their search in an
extraordinary way. Sir Edward Lugard, in a dispatch written on the 14th,
dated from his camp at Narainpoor, near Jugdispore, adverted to this
subject in the following terms: ‘To shew the rapidity and secrecy with
which the rebels conduct their movements, I beg to state, that in order
to guard against the return of any party from the west towards the
jungles, without my getting timely intelligence, so that I might
intercept them, I posted at Roop-Saugor—a village thirteen miles to my
southwest, on the track taken by the rebels in their flight—Captain
Rattray, with his Sikh battalion. He again threw forward scouts some
miles in the same direction, and constantly had parties patrolling in
the different villages. But in spite of every precaution, the rebel
force were at Medneepore, within four miles of him, before he could
communicate with me, and passed on towards the jungle the same night.
Every endeavour to obtain information from the people of the district
has proved vain; scarcely ever has any intelligence been given to us,
until the time has passed when advantage could be taken of it.’
In reference to these Jugdispore rebels, it has been remarked that they
were neither Sikhs from the west, nor Poorbeahs from the east; but
chiefly Bhojpoories of the Shahabad district, most of them born on Koer
Singh’s own estates. Moreover, causes have been assigned for thinking
that these, as well as other rebels, adhered most to those leaders who
could treat them best, whether in pay or plunder, without much reference
to their military abilities. ‘The extraordinary variations in the
numbers of the insurgents may be partly accounted for by variations in
the readiness of pay. Koer Singh, when he left Oude, had barely five
hundred men in his train. As he marched, every straggling sepoy, every
embarrassed scoundrel with a sword, enlisted in his service. By the time
he reached Azimghur he had two thousand five hundred followers; most,
but not all, well armed. The flight across the river dispersed them once
more; and it was not till the check sustained by H.M. 35th that they
thronged to him again. Apparently the leaders are well aware of the
advantage this peculiarity affords. Thus, after their defeat by Sir E.
Lugard, the great bulk of the Behar insurgents vanished; the work was
apparently complete, and the military ends of the campaign to all
appearance accomplished. The leaders, however, remained in the jungle,
and in five days their followers were round them again; they had glided
back in twos and threes, by paths on which no European would be met.’
After many weeks of fatiguing duty in this region, Sir Edward Lugard,
worn with heat and sickness, resigned the command about the end of June;
handing over to Colonel Douglas the office of chasing the Jugdispore
rebels from place to place. Nor was it in that particular locality alone
that this duty had to be fulfilled. Ummer Singh, equalling his deceased
brother in activity, was no sooner defeated in one place than he made
his appearance in another, carrying discord into villages where his
presence was as little desired by natives as by Europeans. While Colonel
Douglas was on his way towards the scene of his new command, news
reached him that the English at Gayah had been driven into intrenchments
by a party of a hundred and fifty rebel prisoners, who had been set at
liberty by the native police employed to watch them, and were speedily
joined by the jail convicts; all—prisoners, police, and convicts—became
suddenly ‘patriots,’ and shewed their patriotism by threatening all the
officials at the station. This is believed to have been done by some
connivance with Ummer Singh. The Europeans at Gayah were thrown into a
great ferment by this visitation; the few troops present were withdrawn
into the intrenchment, as were likewise the civilians, ladies, and
children. No immediate attack followed; but the incident furnished one
among many proofs that the native police were, in most of the Bengal and
Hindostan provinces, a source of more danger than protection to the
British—except the Sikh police, who almost uniformly behaved well.
The transactions in Oude, during the month of June, told of rebels
defeated but not disbanded, weakened but not captured. There were many
leaders, and these required to be narrowly watched.
One of the first cares of the authorities was to place the important
city of Lucknow in such a state of defence as to render it safe from
attacks within and without. Various military works were planned by
Colonel Napier, and were executed by Major Crommelin after Napier’s
departure. From the vast extent of Lucknow, and the absence of any very
prominent features of the ground, it was a difficult city to defend
except by a large body of troops. The point which gave the nearest
approach to a command over the city was the old fort or Muchee Bhowan,
near which was the great Emanbarra, capable of sheltering a large number
of troops. It was decided to select several spots as military posts, to
clear the ground round those spots, and to open streets or roads of
communication from post to post. The Muchee Bhowan was selected as the
chief of these posts; a second was near the iron bridge leading over the
Goomtee to the Fyzabad road; a third was on the site of the Residency,
now a heap of ruins; a fourth was at the Moosa Bagh. All suburbs and
buildings lying on the banks of the river, likely to intercept the free
march of troops from the Muchee Bhowan to the Moosa Bagh, were ordered
to be swept away. Large masses of houses were also removed, to form good
military roads from the Muchee Bhowan to the Char Bagh, the Moosa Bagh,
the stone bridge, the iron bridge, and the old cantonment. The vast
range of palaces, such as the Fureed Buksh, the Chuttur Munzil, the
Kaiser Bagh, &c., were converted temporarily into barracks, and all the
streets and buildings near them either pulled down or thrown open. The
Martinière, the Dil Koosha, and Banks’s house, were formed into military
posts on the eastern side of the city. The two extremes of these posts,
from northwest to southeast, were not far short of seven miles asunder;
they would require a considerable number of troops for their occupancy
and defence; but under any circumstances such would be required in the
great capital of Oude for a long period to come.
The Alum Bagh continued to be maintained, as an important and useful
station on the road from Lucknow to Cawnpore. It was destined to live in
history as a place which Sir James Outram had defended for nearly four
months against armed forces estimated at little short of a hundred
thousand men. It was not originally a fort, only a palace in the midst
of a walled garden; but it presented facilities for being made into
useful shelter for troops. Another place, the bridge of Bunnee, over the
river Sye, was also carefully maintained as an important military post
between Lucknow and Cawnpore. During the latter part of May, the English
troops employed with Sir Hope Grant in various expeditions against the
enemy suffered severely from the heat; and it was found necessary to
give the 38th regiment a temporary sojourn in the Emanbarra at Lucknow,
supplying their place by the 53d. On the 3d of June the Bunnee force
moved out, to disperse a body of rebels who had posted themselves near
Pooroa. There was another duty of a singular kind intrusted to these
troops. The Rajah of Kupoorthully, a Sikh chieftain, who had rendered
valuable services to the government in time of need, received as a
reward an extensive jaghire or domain in Oude. In order that he might
defend both himself and British interests in that domain, he was
assisted in intrenching himself, and was supplied with guns, mortars,
and ammunition; this was irrespective of his own force of four thousand
Sikh troops.
Shortly after the opening of the month, rumours reached the authorities
at Lucknow that a body of rebels, estimated at seventeen or eighteen
thousand, had crossed the Gogra, and taken up a position at Ramnuggur
Dhumaree, under the orders of Gorhuccus Singh. The correctness of this
report was not certain—nor of others that Madhoo Singh was at the head
of five thousand rebels at Goosaengunje, Benee Madhoo with a small
number in the Poorwah district, and Dunkha Shah with a larger force near
Chinhut. Still, though these numbers were probably exaggerated by
alarmists, it was not considered prudent to leave the northeast region
of Oude unprotected. Accordingly, a movable column was organised, to
proceed towards Fyzabad.
Sir Hope Grant, intrusted at that time with the conduct of military
affairs in Oude, himself conducted an expedition towards the districts
just adverted to. A little before midnight on the 12th of June, acting
on information which had reached him, he marched from Lucknow to
Chinhut, and thence towards Nawabgunge, on the Fyzabad road. His force
consisted of the 2d and 3d battalions of the Rifle Brigade, the 5th
Punjaub Rifles, a detachment of Engineers and Sappers, the 7th Hussars,
two squadrons of the 2d Dragoon Guards, Hodson’s Horse, a squadron of
the first Sikh cavalry, a troop of mounted police, a troop of
horse-artillery, and two light field-batteries. Leaving a garrison
column at Chinhut, under Colonel Purnell, and intrusting the same
officer with the temporary charge of the baggage and supplies belonging
to the column, Sir Hope resumed his march during the night towards
Nawabgunge, where sixteen thousand rebels had assembled, with several
guns. By daylight on the following morning he crossed the Beti Nuddee at
Quadrigunje, by means of a ford. He had purposely adopted this route
instead of advancing to the bridge on the Fyzabad road; in order that,
after crossing the nullah, he might get between the enemy and a large
jungle. As a strong force of rebels defended the ford, a sharp
artillery-fire, kept up by Mackinnon’s horse-artillery and Johnson’s
battery, was necessary to effect this passage. Having surmounted this
obstacle, Sir Hope, approaching nearer to Nawabgunge, got into the
jungle district. Here the rebels made an attempt to surround him on all
sides, and pick off his men by repeated volleys of musketry. The general
speedily changed the aspect of affairs. He sent a troop of
horse-artillery to the front; Johnson’s battery and two squadrons of
horse were sent to defend the left; while a larger body confronted the
rebels on the right—where the enemy apparently expected to find and to
capture Sir Hope’s baggage. The struggle was very fierce, and the
slaughter of the rebels considerable; the enemy, fanatical as well as
numerous, gave exercise for all Grant’s boldness and sagacity in
contending with them. The victory was complete—and yet it was
indefinite; for the rebels, as usual, escaped, to renew their mischief
at some other time and place. Nearly six hundred of their number were
slain; the wounded were much more numerous. Hope Grant’s list of killed
and wounded numbered about a hundred. Many of the rebels were Ghazees or
Mohammedan fanatics, far more difficult to deal with than the mutinied
sepoys. Adverting to some of the operations on the right flank, Grant
said in his dispatch: ‘On arriving at this point, I found that a large
number of Ghazees, with two guns, had come out on the open plain, and
attacked Hodson’s Horse. I immediately ordered up the other four guns
under the command of Lieutenant Percival, and two squadrons of the 7th
Hussars under Major Sir W. Russell, and opened grape upon them within
three or four hundred yards with terrible effect. But the fanatics made
the most determined resistance; and two men in the midst of a shower of
grape brought forward two green standards, which they planted in the
ground beside their guns, and rallied their men. Captain Atherley’s two
companies of the 3d battalion Rifle Brigade at this moment advanced to
the attack, which obliged the rebels to move off. The cavalry then got
between them and the guns; and the 7th Hussars, led gallantly by Sir W.
Russell, supported by Hodson’s Horse under Major Daly, swept through
them—killing every man.’ Whatever may have been the causes, proximate or
remote, of the mutiny, it is quite evident that such Mussulman fanatics
as these, with their green flag of rebellion and their cries of ‘Deen!
deen!’ had been worked up, or had worked themselves up, to something
like a sincere belief that they were fighting for their religion.
The chief body of rebels, as has just been stated, succeeded in escaping
from Nawabgunge after the battle. They fled chiefly to Ramnuggur and
Mahadeo on the banks of the Gogra, and to Bhitowlie at the junction of
that river with the Chowka—with the apparent and probable intention of
throwing up earthworks for the defence of those positions.
Just about the time when Sir Hope Grant defeated these Nawabgunge
rebels—supposed to have been headed by the Begum of Oude and her
paramour Mummoo Khan—the career of the energetic Moulvie was suddenly
cut short at another. This remarkable man, Moulvie Ahmedullah Shah, died
as he had long lived, struggling against the Feringhees and all who
supported them. On the 15th of June, after having been driven from place
to place by the various British columns and detachments, he arrived from
Mohumdee at Powayne, a town about sixteen miles northeast of
Shahjehanpoor. He had with him a considerable body of horse, and some
guns. The Rajah of Powayne, named Juggernath Singh, having incurred the
displeasure of the Moulvie by sheltering two native servants of the
Company, was attacked by him. Juggernath Singh, and his two brothers
Buldeo Singh and Komul Singh, went out to confront the Moulvie as best
they could. A skirmish ensued, which lasted three hours. The most
notable result was the death of the Moulvie; he received a shot, and
fell; his head was at once severed; and the Rajah sent the head and
trunk to Shahjehanpoor, to be delivered to Mr Gilbert Money, the
commissioner. Glad as the British may have been to get rid of a
formidable enemy, it is doubtful whether Mr Money received the bleeding
gift with much gratification. The Rajah of Powayne, however, had long
been an object of suspicion, on account of his unfeeling conduct towards
some of the poor fugitives in the early days of the Revolt; and as the
British cause was now obviously the winning cause, he was anxious, by
his alacrity in dealing with the dead body of the Moulvie, to win favour
with the authorities. A very large reward had been offered by the
government to whoever could capture the Moulvie; and although some doubt
was expressed whether this was intended to apply as well to the bleeding
corpse as to the living man, the reward was paid to the Powayne
chieftain.
[Illustration:
Principal Street in Lucknow.
]
It was unquestionably a great gain to the British to know that the
Moulvie was really removed from the field of strife. As to the Begum,
she still remained unsubdued, moving from place to place according as
she could gather a large body of adherents around her. It was about the
second week in June, so far as is rendered apparent by the
correspondence, that she received Jung Bahadoor’s very decisive
rejection of the appeal made by her for his alliance, lately adverted
to; and as she lost nearly at the same time her able coadjutor the
Moulvie, her prospects became more gloomy. Of Nena Sahib, little more
could be said than that he was true to his character—a coward in all
things. Where he was at any particular time, the British seldom
certainly knew: he had not the courage of the Moulvie, or the Begum, or
the Ranee.
In connection rather with the province of Goruckpore than with that of
Oude, though nearly on the boundary-line between the two, must be
mentioned two encounters in which the naval brigade honourably
distinguished itself. The _Shannon’s_ seamen, it will be remembered,
supplied a naval brigade under the lamented Captain Sir William Peel,
for service in Oude; but there was also another brigade furnished by the
_Pearl_, of which Captain Sotheby was commander. During May and June,
this brigade was associated with certain troops and marines in the
maintenance of order on the Goruckpore frontier of Oude. While on
detached service, Major Cox and Lieutenant Turnour came in contact with
the enemy on the 9th of June. The lieutenant had under him two
12-pounder howitzers, a 24-pounder rocket-tube, and about fifty seamen
of the _Pearl’s_ crew; Lieutenant Pym had the control of about twenty
marines from the same ship; while Major Cox, who commanded the whole
detachment, had under him a small military force comprising two hundred
men of the 13th light infantry, two troops of Madras cavalry, two troops
of Bengal cavalry, and twenty Sikhs. It was altogether a singular medley
of combatants. Having heard that Mahomed Hussein was occupying the
neighbouring village of Amorha or Amorah in great force, Major Cox
resolved to attack him. He divided his detachment into two parts, one
headed by himself, and the other by Major Richardson. The seamen and
marines were attached to Richardson’s party. Starting at two o’clock in
the morning, they marched along the road leading through the village.
When within a mile of Amorah, they received a heavy fire from the rebel
skirmishers; these were immediately attacked and driven in by Pym and
the marines; while the guns threw shot and shell on the main body.
Attempting to retreat on the other flank, Cox met and frustrated them;
and the result of the skirmish was a decisive abandonment of the village
by the rebels. Nine days afterwards another force, similar in
constitution but larger in numbers, comprising in its naval element
about a hundred and ten seamen, set out from Captangunje to make another
attack on Mahomed Hussein, who was posted with four thousand rebels at
Hurreah, about eight miles off. On approaching near Hurreah, the enemy’s
skirmishers were descried thrown across the river Gogra, screened in
thick bamboo jungles, villages, topes of trees, and a dry nullah.
British skirmishers were quickly sent on ahead, drove in the enemy, and
waded the river after them up to their waists; the guns followed, and
the enemy were driven from tope to tope, and from every place of
concealment, and chased for four miles. The heat was tremendous;
insomuch that seven hours’ marching, fighting, and pursuing nearly
knocked up officers and men. Mahomed Hussein, however, was severely
defeated, and this was deemed a sufficient reward for all the fatigues
and privations. The _Pearl’s_ naval brigade counted this as the tenth
time in which it had been in action in nine months.
It may be here mentioned that an endeavour was made, towards the end of
June, to estimate the number of thalookdars and other petty chieftains
who were in arms against the British in the province of Oude; together
with the amount of force at their disposal. The estimate was not wholly
reliable, for the means of obtaining correct information were very
deficient. The list published in some of the Bombay newspapers,
professing to be the nearest attainable approach to the truth, included
the names of about thirty-five ‘thalookdars,’ ‘rajahs,’ and
‘chuckladars,’ holding among them about twenty-five mud-forts, with
nearly a hundred guns, and forty thousand armed retainers. The chief
items in this curious list were—‘The three chuckladars Mahomed Hussein,
Mehndee Hussein, and Shaik Padil Imam, have twenty-three guns and ten
thousand men massed about Sultanpore; some occupying Saloun, ten kos
from Roy Bareilly’—‘At Nain, within nine kos of Roy Bareilly, four
thalookdars, named Juggernath Buksh, Bugwan Buksh, Bussunth Singh, and
Juggernath (?), have collected eight guns and six thousand men’—‘Banie
Madhao, thalookdar; at Sukerpore, a strong fort surrounded by jungle, a
few kos from Roy Bareilly; nineteen guns and eight thousand men’—‘Rajah
Ali Buksh Khan, at Moham, a small fort twenty-five kos east of Lucknow;
five guns and fifteen hundred men.’ Most of the rebel gatherings here
adverted to were in the region around Roy Bareilly, southeast of
Lucknow.
But notwithstanding these high-sounding names and formidable numbers,
the cause of regular government in Oude was gradually advancing. The
rebels could no longer endanger; they could only annoy. Mr Montgomery,
at Lucknow, intrusted with large powers by the governor-general, was
gradually feeling his way. While Crommelin took charge of the immediate
defence of that city, and Hope Grant was grappling with the rebels in
the open field, Montgomery was employed in re-establishing the network
of judicial and revenue organisation, as favourable opportunities arose.
The Rajah of Kapoorthully, lately adverted to, undertook the defence of
the region between the Bunnee and Cawnpore; while Hope Grant kept a
vigilant eye on the centre of Oude. The astute and double-dealing Maun
Singh was placed in a singular position. He was distrusted by both
parties, because he would not openly side with one against the other. As
the chieftain of Shahgunje, on the river Gogra, very near the eastern
frontier of Oude, he would be formidable either as a friend or a foe. He
had a fort, guns, and men at his command. There could be no question
that for thirteen months he had been watching the progress of events, to
determine in which balance to throw his sword; and it was equally
evident that he was gradually recognising more and more the value of
English friendship—as a consequence, he was bitterly disliked by the
rebel leaders. Taking a view of the state of Oude generally during June,
it is necessary to make a distinction between the earlier and the later
days of the month. The former was much less favourable than the latter.
It could not truthfully be said that the pacification proceeded rapidly.
Injury was wrought by the party-tactics concerning the famous
proclamation penned by Viscount Canning and condemned by the Earl of
Ellenborough. The violent discussions arising out of that collision of
opinion could not be wholly concealed from the natives of India. It
cannot be doubted that many of the reckless and unscrupulous speeches
made in the British parliament became known to, and cherished by, the
insurgent chieftains. When a halo of suffering virtue was thrown around
the Oudian royal family, and when the Queen of England’s viceroy in
India was spoken of almost as a murderer and robber, the power of the
government became necessarily shaken, and the difficulties of
pacification increased. The proclamation was modified; nay, Mr
Montgomery received discretionary powers to determine whether, and when,
and where there should be a proclamation at all—the governor-general
wisely leaving it to his sagacity to be guided by the circumstance of
time and place. At the beginning of June little had been effected
towards winning the submission of the malcontent thalookdars and
chuckladars; the hopes of successful rebellion had not been sufficiently
damped. Nevertheless, as the month advanced, and when the Moulvie was
dead and the Gwalior rebels beaten, the Oudian landowners, by ones and
twos, began to look out for a compromise, which might enable them safely
to abandon a losing cause. One of the most embarrassing difficulties
perhaps was this—that the rebel leaders made instant war against any
thalookdars or chuckladars who gave in their submission to the British
government under the modified proclamation—thereby deterring the more
timid landowners from the adoption of this course. Maun Singh himself
was besieged by an insurgent force; but his means of resistance were
considerable.
One of the evidences afforded that the pacification of Oude was
considered to be gradually approaching, was the disbandment of the corps
of Volunteer Cavalry, which was composed almost wholly of officers and
gentlemen, and which had rendered such eminent services at a time when
European troops were doubly precious from their extreme rarity. In a
notification issued at Calcutta, Viscount Canning, after mentioning some
of the arrangements connected with the disbanding, thus spoke of the
services of the corps: ‘The Volunteer Cavalry took a prominent part in
all the successes which marked the advance of the late Major-general Sir
Henry Havelock from Allahabad to Lucknow; and on every occasion of its
employment against the rebels—whether on the advance to Lucknow, or as
part of the force with which Major-general Sir James Outram held Alum
Bagh—this corps has greatly distinguished itself by its gallantry in
action, and by its fortitude and endurance under great exposure and
fatigue. The governor-general offers to Major Barrow, who ably commanded
the Volunteer Cavalry, and boldly led them in all the operations in
which they were engaged, his most cordial acknowledgments for his very
valuable services: and to Captain Lynch, and all the officers and men
who composed this corps, his lordship tenders his best thanks for the
eminent good conduct and exemplary courage which they displayed during
the whole time that the corps was embodied.’ The farewell of Sir James
Outram was more hearty, because less official.[181]
Directing our attention next to the Doab and Rohilcund, it becomes at
once apparent that organisation and systematic government made great
advances during the month of June. The Doab no longer contained any
large body of armed rebels. There were numerous smaller bands, but these
bands chiefly made use of the Doab as a route of passage. The hopes of
the rebel leaders were directed mainly towards two regions—Oude, on the
north of the Ganges; and Central India, on the south of the Jumna.
According as the fortunes of war (or rather depredation) tended in the
one direction or the other, so did groups of armed insurgents cross, or
attempt to cross, those rivers by means of the ghâts or ferries. If the
chances for rebel success appeared stronger at Lucknow or Fyzabad,
Bareilly or Shahjehanpoor, this current tended northward, or rather
northeastward: if Calpee or Jhansi, Gwalior or Jeypoor, excited the
hopes of the insurgents, the current took an opposite direction. The
Doab, in either case, was regarded rather as a line of transit than as a
field of contest. Sir Colin Campbell, well acquainted with this fact,
devoted a portion of his attention to the ghâts on the two great rivers.
It became very important to check if possible the marching and
countermarching of the rebels across the Doab; and several columns and
detachments of troops were engaged in this duty during the month now
under notice. The success of the few actual encounters depended very
much on the course of events in Scindia’s dominions, narrated in the
last chapter. When Gwalior fell into the hands of Tanteea Topee and his
associates, all the turbulent chieftains in the surrounding districts
displayed an audacity and hopefulness which they had not exhibited
during the preceding month; but when Sir Hugh Rose reconquered that
city, and replaced Scindia on his throne, timidity succeeded to
audacity, misgiving to hopefulness.
The commander-in-chief, after his participation in the reconquest and
pacification of Rohilcund, returned to his former quarters at Futteghur,
where he remained until the second week in June. Throughout the month he
was personally engaged in no hostilities; he was occupied either in
studying how to give his heat-worn soldiers repose, or how best to
employ those whose services in the field were still indispensable. The
governor-general much desired his presence at Allahabad, to confer with
him personally on the military arrangements necessary during the summer
and autumn. It afforded a significant proof of the scattered position of
the British forces, that during the first week in June there were no
soldiers that could be spared to escort Sir Colin from Futteghur to
Allahabad. Quiet as the Doab was, compared with its condition earlier in
the year, there were still rebel bands occasionally crossing and
recrossing it, and these bands would have hazarded much to capture a
prize so important as the commander-in-chief of the Anglo-Indian army.
He could not safely move without an escort, and he had to delay his
journey until a few troops came in from Shahjehanpoor and other
stations. While at Futteghur he caused a search to be made in the
bazaars of that place and Furruckabad for sulphur, in order that any
stores of that substance might be seized by and for the government. The
rebels of the various provinces still possessed many guns; the
chieftains and landowners still owned more weapons of various kinds than
they chose to acknowledge to the government; there was iron for the
making of cannon-balls; there were charcoal and saltpetre towards the
making of gunpowder; but there was one ingredient, sulphur, without
which all the firearms of the insurgents would be useless; and as
sulphur was an imported article in India, the government made attempts
to obtain possession of any stores of that substance that might be in
doubtful hands. Percussion-caps, too, were becoming scarce among the
rebels; and, the materials and machinery for making more being wanting,
they were perforce superseded by the less effective matchlock.
The state of the Doab at that time is well told in connection with a
journey made by Mr Russell. After the Rohilcund campaign was over, this
active journalist looked about him to determine what was best worth
seeing and describing, in reference to his special duties. If he went
with or after Sir Colin to Allahabad, he would get to the head-quarters
of politics, where very few stirring military operations were to be
witnessed; if he went northeast into Oude, or southwest into Central
India, he might, after much danger and difficulty, become involved in
the movements of some flying column, ill assorting with the necessities
of a lame man—for he still suffered from an injury by a kick from a
horse. Mr Russell therefore resolved upon a journey through the Upper
Doab from Futteghur to Delhi, and thence by Umballa to the healthy
hill-station of Simla. He travelled by Bhowgong, Eytah, Gosaigunje, and
Allygurh, meeting with ample evidence on the way of the ruin resulting
from thirteen months of anarchy. Of the dâk bungalows or stations he
says: ‘Let no one understand by this a pleasant roadside hostelry with
large out-offices, spacious court-yard, teams of horses, and hissing
ostlers; rather let him see a mud-hovel by the way, standing out, the
only elevation in the dead level of baked earth, a few trees under which
are tethered some wretched horses, and a group of men’—whose dress
consisted of little beyond a turban. From Bhowgong to Eytah the country
looked like a desert; and by the roadside, at intervals of ten miles or
less, were thannahs or police-stations—small one-storied houses, bearing
traces of the destructiveness of the rebel leader which had so often
swept the district. He crossed the Kallee Nuddee at a point where the
Company had never yet introduced the civilised agency of a regular
bridge. The gharry was pushed and dragged down a shelving bank of loose
sand, and then over a rickety creaky bridge of boats—the native
attendants making much use of the primitive distended bladders and
earthen jars as floating supporters. Arrived at Eytah, he found the
place little other than a heap of blackened ruins, with enclosures
broken down and trees lopped off at the stem. Yet here were three
Englishmen, civil servants of the Company, engaged in re-establishing
the machinery of regular government. Mr Russell, like every one else,
tried all the varieties of language to express adequately the tremendous
heat of an Indian June. He left Eytah at two in the afternoon. ‘The
gharry was like an oven; the metal-work burning so that it could not be
borne in contact with the hand for an instant. The wind reminded me of
the deadly blast which swept over us on the march to Futteghur that
dreadful morning when we left Rohilcund. Not a tree to shade the road;
on each side a parched, dull, dun-coloured plain, with the waving
heat-lines dancing up and down over its blighted surface; and whirling
dust-storms or “devils,” as they are called, careering to and fro as if
in demoniac glee in their own infernal region. On such a day as this
Lake’s men (half a century earlier) fell file after file on their
dreadful journey. Could I have found shelter, I would gladly have
stopped, for even the natives suffered, and the horses were quite done
up; but in India, in peace and war, one’s motto must be “No backward
step!”—so on we went.’ After passing through many small towns and poor
villages, in which half the houses were either ruined or shut up, he
reached Allygurh, where, ‘being late, there was nothing ready at the
bungalow but mosquitoes.’ Pursuing his journey, he at length reached
Delhi.
The imperial city was now wholly and safely under British control.
Sentries guarded the bridge of boats over the Jumna, allowing no native
to pass without scrutiny; the fort of the Selimgurh was garrisoned by a
small but trusty detachment. The plan, once contemplated, of destroying
the defences, had not been adopted; the majestic wall, though shattered
and ball-pierced in parts, remained in other respects entire. The
defences were, altogether, calculated to strike a stranger with
surprise, at the height and solidity of the wall, the formidable nature
of the bastions, the depth and width of the dry ditch, the completeness
of the glacis, and the security of such of the gates as had not been
battered down or blown in. Some of the streets of the city had escaped
the havoc of war; but others exhibited the effects of bombardment and
assault in a terrible degree, although nine months of peaceful
occupation had intervened; houses pitted with marks of shot and bullet,
public buildings shattered and half in ruins, trees by the wayside split
and rent, doors and windows splintered, gables torn out of houses,
jagged holes completely through the walls. Half the houses in the city
were shut; and the other half had not yet regained their regular steady
inhabitants. The mighty palace of the Moguls was nearly as grand as ever
on the outside; but all within displayed a wreck of oriental splendour.
The exquisite Dewani Khas, when Mr Russell was there, instead of being
filled with turbaned and bejewelled rajahs, Mogul guards, and oriental
magnificence, as in the olden days, was occupied by British
infantry—infantry, too, engaged in the humblest of barrack domestic
duties. ‘From pillar to pillar and column to column extended the
graceful arches of the clothes-line, with shirts and socks and drawers
flaunting in the air in lieu of silken banners. Long lines of charpoys
or bedsteads stretched from one end of the hall to the other—arms were
piled against the columns—pouches, belts, and bayonets depended from the
walls; and in the place where once blazed the fabulous glories of the
peacock’s throne, reclined a private of her Majesty’s 61st, of a very
Milesian type of countenance.’
[Illustration:
SURAT.—From a View in the Library of the East India Company.
]
The old king still remained a prisoner at Delhi. The drivelling, sensual
descendant of Tamerlane, shorn of everything that could impart dignity,
occupied some of the smaller apartments of the palace, with a few of his
wives, children, and grandchildren, near him. All were fretful and
discontented, as they well might be: for they had nothing to see,
nowhere to go, no honours to receive, no magnificence to luxuriate in.
When interrogated by visitors concerning the early days of the Revolt,
he was peevish, and wished to change the subject; and when his youngest
begum, and his son Jumma Bukht, were induced to converse, the absence of
family unity—if such a thing is possible in an oriental palace—was
apparent enough.
Considered politically, Delhi had the great advantage, during the spring
months, of being placed under Sir John Lawrence. The province which
contained the once imperial city was detached from the ‘northwestern’
group, and made—with Sirhind, the Punjaub, and the Peshawur Valley—one
compact and extensive government, under the control of one who, morally
speaking, was perhaps the greatest man in India. It was necessary to
reconstruct a government; but much careful consideration was needed
before the principle of construction could be settled. If the peaceful
industrious population would return to their homes and occupations,
their presence would doubtless be welcome; but the neighbouring villages
still swarmed with desperate characters, whose residence in Delhi would
be productive of evil. Many of the better class of natives feared that
the imperial city would never recover; that the injury which its
buildings had received during the siege, the disturbance of trade by the
hurried exit of the regular inhabitants, the enormous losses by plunder
and forfeiture, and the break-up of the imperial establishment in the
palace, had combined to inflict a blow which would be fatal to the once
great Mogul capital. Delhi, nevertheless, had outlived many terrible
storms; and these prognostications might be destined to fail.
[Illustration:
LAHORE.
]
One consequence of the steady occupation of Delhi during the winter and
spring was the gradual departure of troops to other districts where they
were more needed. Among these was one of the native regiments. The
‘gallant little Goorkhas,’ as the British troops were accustomed to
designate the soldiers of the Sirmoor and Kumaon battalions, held their
high reputation to the very last. The Sirmoor battalion had marched down
to Delhi at the very beginning of the disturbances, and during more than
twelve months had been on continuous duty in and near that region. The
time had now come when a respite could be given to their labours. They
took their departure to the healthy hill-station of Deyrah Dhoon. As
they marched out of Delhi, headed by their commandant, Colonel Reid,
they were escorted over the bridge by the 2d Bengal Europeans, who
cheered them lustily, and inspirited them with a melody, the meaning of
which they had perchance by this time learned—‘_Should auld acquaintance
be forgot_.’ An officer, well familiar with these ‘jolly little
Goorkhas,’ remarked on this occasion: ‘There is not in military history
a brighter or purer page than the record of the services and faithful
conduct of the Sirmoor Goorkha battalion during the past year. First in
the field, always in front, prominent, and incessantly fighting
throughout the entire campaign and siege-operations before Delhi, the
regiment has covered itself with honour and glory. In our darkest days,
there was never a whisper, a suspicion, the shadow of a doubt of the
honest loyalty and fidelity of these brave, simple-minded, and devoted
soldiers. When others turned traitors, robbers, assassins, these rushed
without a moment’s hesitation to our side, fought the good fight, bled,
and died, faithful to their salt, honourable and true to the last.’
The Punjaub—at Lahore and all the other cities and stations—was so
steadily and watchfully governed, that no disturbances took place except
of a very slight character—personally distressing, it is true, but not
nationally or politically of any moment. One such was the following: On
a certain day a number of disbanded sepoys, who had long before taken
refuge in Cashmere, recrossed the frontiers, and attacked the Christians
stationed at a place called Madhopore; they murdered a few, including
children, under circumstances of great barbarity. No other reason could
be assigned for this brutality than a vengeful thirst for European
blood. Hastily they crossed again into Cashmere, taking with them a
quantity of plunder. A demand was at once made upon the chief of
Cashmere, Rumbeer Singh, to capture and give them up; which demand was
shortly afterwards attended to, although he had exhibited a little
remissness in this matter in one or two former instances. The Rajah of
Cashmere was not wholly unsuspected, indeed, of unfavourable views
towards the British; and, with a less firm man than John Lawrence at his
elbow, he might possibly have made his mountain territory a retreat for
rebels.
Sinde, the land of the Indus, remained firmly in the hands of Mr Frere
and General Jacob, the one as civil commissioner and the other as
military commandant. At one period during the month, however, Frere was
called upon to settle a question of religious zealotry, which might have
kindled into a flame if not promptly dealt with. A Mohammedan of
respectable character came to him, while at Hydrabad, and complained of
an inscription on the inner wall of an open-fronted shop belonging to
the Christian Mission. The inscription comprised one or two quotations
from the Koran, and an argument to disprove the divine authority of the
Prophet of Islam, from the evidence of the Koran itself. It was prepared
and written, in the Sindhi and Arabic languages, by the Rev. Mr
Matchett; and the Rev. Mr Gell caused it to be conspicuously exhibited
in the open shop where Bibles were sold or distributed. The complainant
was one Gholam Ali, a Mohammedan lately returned from a pilgrimage to
Mecca. He stated to Mr Frere that the inscription, visible to all the
passers-by in the main bazaar of the city, was irritating and offensive
to the Mohammedans. Mr Frere read the inscription; and in afterwards
explaining to Lord Elphinstone the reasons which determined his decision
on the subject, he said: ‘I am willing to be judged by any one who has
any acquaintance with the ordinary feelings of a bigoted Mohammedan
population as to the probable effects of such a placard on them. I feel
confident that any such unprejudiced person would agree with me, that
there was much danger of its causing an outbreak of fanatical violence;
and holding that opinion, I cannot think that I should have been
justified in allowing it to remain. It is quite possible it might never
have caused any breach of the peace; but I did not think the present a
time to try unnecessary experiments as to how much a fanatical native
population will or will not bear in the way of provocation.’ Mr Frere
wrote to the Rev. Mr Gell, the mission-superintendent, requesting him to
remove the inscription; on the ground that, however well meant, it might
produce more harm than good. This proceeding led to a violent outcry on
the part of the missionaries and their supporters, and to an erroneous
narrative forwarded to the government of Bombay—accusing Mr Frere of
encouraging Mohammedanism and insulting Christianity. It was one of
those numerous occasions, presented during the course of the Revolt and
its suppression, in which the governing authorities had much difficulty
in steering clearly through the opposite dangers of two religious
extremes.
Sir Hugh Rose’s operations in Central India during the month of June
were treated so fully in the last chapter, that little need be added
here on the subject. The recapture of Gwalior was the great event; all
the operations in Rajpootana, Bundelcund, Goojerat, and Holkar’s
territory, were subordinate to it. When the month closed, General
Roberts, with the ‘Rajpootana Field-force,’ was on the march from
Nuseerabad to Jeypoor, to check the progress of the Gwalior fugitives in
that direction. Brigadier Showers was at or near Futtehpore Sikri,
guarding the Agra route. Major Ramsey was advancing from Rohilcund with
the Kumaon battalion. The English residents at Jeypoor and Bhurtpore
were actively engaged in supporting, so far as was practicable, the
loyal tendencies of the rajahs of those two states, so as to enable them
to resist the rebels if the latter were to enter either of those cities.
The doubt was, not so much of the rajahs, as of the soldiery in their
pay, whose fidelity could not wholly be relied on. The main body of
Gwalior fugitives were at that time somewhere near Hindoun, a town about
equidistant from Gwalior, Agra, and Jeypoor; whether they were about to
advance to Ummerpore on the Jeypoor road, to Mhow on the Ulwar road, or
to any other point, was not well known. Indeed, the rebels themselves
seemed to be divided in opinion as to their future movements; they were
looking around, to find some rajah, nawab, or nazim who would join them
in rebellion; but those chieftains were becoming more and more cautious
how they committed themselves in this way. The spectacle of rajahs blown
away from guns, and nawabs hung from gallows, was by no means
encouraging.
General Whitlock’s field-force, at the end of June, was distributed in
various parts of Bundelcund, keeping in subjection the petty chieftains
here and there in arms; for there was no longer anything like a
formidable army of rebels opposed to him. Brigadier Carpenter, with
three or four hundred men, and two guns, was at Kirkee. Major Dallas,
with the 1st Madras N.I., was assisting the civil authorities in
re-establishing the revenue and judicial departments. Colonel Reede,
with two hundred men and two guns, was sent to look after the safety of
Humeerpoor and its neighbourhood. Brigadier Macduff, with a portion of
H.M. 43d foot, went to Calpee. Brigadier Munsey, with a small column of
infantry, cavalry, and artillery, was sent to Nowgong, to protect a
convoy of stores on their way from Saugor. The remainder of the force
encamped for a while at Banda as head-quarters, having with them Narain
Rao and Madhoo Rao as prisoners, a large number of guns, and a
considerable amount of treasure and jewels captured from the rebels.
Whitlock’s long-continued exertions, although not attended by any great
battles, had gradually restored something like tranquillity to this
distracted region. Bundelcund and the Saugor territory, from the Jumna
to the Nerbudda, had for nearly twelve months been in a miserable
condition. The various bands of mutineers passing from Dinapoor and
elsewhere wrought great mischief; powerful villages preyed upon their
weaker neighbours; and the self-installed nawabs and rajahs extorted
every farthing they could get from the peasantry and towns-people. Many
villages were completely deserted; many more had been burned to the
ground, and the people plundered of all the grain and other property
which they possessed. The lesson which the peaceful natives had received
from the rebels was a severe one, calculated to teach them the
advantages of regular government under British influence.
Among the many ‘field-forces’ which about this time were broken up, to
relieve the troops from some of their exhausting labours in fiercely hot
weather, was a small one called the ‘Satpoora Field-force.’ Satpoora is
a town in Holkar’s Mahratta dominions, about seventy-five miles
southeast of Indore, and very near the boundary of the Nagpoor
territory. Satpoora also gives name to a range of mountains which,
running east and west, separates the valley of the Taptee from that of
the Nerbudda; and it was in this sense that the designation ‘Satpoora
Field-force’ was given to a small body of troops collected for the
defence of the region in question. Major Evans, commanding this force,
took farewell of his men on the 22d of June. In an order or address,
dated from his camp at Jalwana, he thanked Captain Sealey and the
artillery, Captain Langston and the Rifles, Captain Baugh and the 9th
Bombay N.I., Captain Briggs and the 19th, Lieutenant Latouche and the
Poonah horse—being the components of his force. He made special mention
of a certain encounter on the 11th of April; ‘when the insurgents,
posted in positions from which they supposed they could not be driven,
were at once attacked at three different points; and despite a most
obstinate and deadly resistance, were signally defeated and dispersed.’
He proceeded in commendatory terms to state that ‘the effect on the
enemy has been so dispiriting that they have never again dared to
collect in force; the disaffected chiefs themselves wandering about in
concealment. The force has therefore been disappointed in not being able
again to shew their prowess, which all were so eager to do, and would
have done so well, had opportunity offered.’
Gujerat, the Guicowar’s territory—situated south of Rajpootana, and west
of Holkar’s territory—had, it will be remembered, been most happily and
effectively disarmed by Sir Richmond Shakespear, political resident at
the court of the Guicowar; thereby lessening the probability of any
hostile outbreak. Gujerat became subject, however, during this month, to
one of those strange mysteries in which orientals so much delight. The
lotus, and the chupatties, and the ‘something white,’ had had their day;
and now arose the mystery of _twigs_. It was ascertained that twigs or
small branches had been circulated from village to village in the
province of Gujerat, as signals or watchwords; but nothing could be
learned concerning their meaning. An ancient custom existed in many
parts of India, of measuring the footprints with straws or twigs
whenever a robbery had been committed, then forwarding them from village
to village, until the measurement was found to implicate some one
villager; after which the village was made responsible. This and many
other ancient customs were referred to; but nothing appeared to throw
light on the meaning of the twigs thus transmitted through Gujerat.
To assist in the maintenance of tranquillity in the Deccan, a small
field-force, composed of troops selected from the Poonah division of the
Bombay army, was made up, and placed under the command of Colonel Gall.
Starting from Poonah, the colonel arrived at Aurungabad on the 8th of
June, and resumed his march on the following day to Jaulnah, a military
station in the northwest corner of the Nizam’s dominions. Large bands of
Rohilla marauders, expelled from the city of Hyderabad by the Nizam’s
troops, were known to be in various villages in the Jaulnah district;
and it was deemed expedient to hold Colonel Gall’s force in readiness to
watch and disperse these men, lest their machinations should assume a
military form. A new cavalry corps named Beatson’s Horse assisted in
this object. This corps, organised by and under the active officer of
that name, consisted of recruits from various parts of the Deccan, for
active service in any regions where their presence might be deemed most
useful. At present, their quarters were at Jaulnah, where they were
regularly picketed around the encampment at night. Arrangements were
also made for strengthening the Jaulnah district with a wing of the 92d
Highlanders, and with several guns.
Of the presidency of Bombay it may happily be said that—partly owing to
the scarcity of the Poorbeah element in the native army, partly to the
sagacious and energetic government of Lord Elphinstone—the curse of
rebellion was rendered very little apparent. Sinde, placed temporarily
under that presidency, was well looked after by Mr Frere; Gujerat was
safe under Sir Richmond Shakespear; Rajpootana was watched by the
vigilant eye of General Roberts; while the northern Mahratta states, so
far as they were subject to Bombay influence, were under the care of Sir
Robert Hamilton.
Certain occurrences in the South Mahratta country, however, deserve to
be noticed both in their political and their military phases.
Nothing is more certain than that many of the insurgent bodies in India
rose in arms on account of personal or local matters, bearing little
relation to the great military revolt, or to the so-called national
rebellion. The derangement of regular government furnished opportunity
for those who had real or assumed grievances. An example of this kind
was furnished in the South Mahratta country. The natives of one of the
least known districts south of Bombay had been in the habit of cutting
down trees wherever they pleased, for the purpose of planting the
cleared ground with various kinds of grain. The Bombay government at
length put a stop to this wholesale destruction of timber. This stoppage
was looked upon by the natives as an infringement of their ‘vested
rights.’ A mischief-maker—one of the many usually at hand when the
populace are excited—appeared in the person of the Rajah of Jumbote, a
place southwest of Belgaum. He believed, or persuaded the people to
believe, that Nena Sahib held Poonah with a large force; that the
British troops were kept in check almost everywhere; and that it was a
favourable time for a rise against the constituted authorities who held
sway there. Another cause for disaffection arose out of the Hindoo
custom of adoption; and this was felt in the South Mahratta country as
in other parts of India. Many circumstances arose during the Revolt,
shewing that the natives are familiar with and attached to this custom.
When a prince, a chief, or a landowner, had no legitimate heir, it was
customary for him to name a successor or heir, generally from among his
kinsmen. So long as the East India Company had no territorial rights in
a particular province or region, there was no motive for interfering
with this custom; but self-interest afterwards stepped in, in a way that
may be very easily explained. The Company, we will suppose, made a
treaty with a native prince, to the effect that a certain state or a
certain revenue should belong to him ‘and his heirs for ever.’ If he had
no legitimate heir, the Company was tempted to seize the golden prize
after his death, under the plea that the _adopted_ son was not a true
representative. A Hindoo custom was interpreted in an English sense,
and, being found wanting, was disallowed; thereby enriching the Company.
English lawyers found no difficulty in supporting this course of
proceeding, because it was consistent with English law. It was not,
however, until the governor-generalship of the Marquis of Dalhousie,
that this kind of confiscation was extensively acted on; and hence the
interval between 1848 and 1858 was marked by much more irritation among
native princely families, than had been before exhibited in connection
with this particular subject. Be it right or wrong, thus to interpret a
Hindoo usage by an English test, the history of the Revolt plainly
shewed that many of the bitterest enemies of the government were persons
whose domains or revenues had been disturbed by a refusal of the Company
to acknowledge the principle of adoption in heirship. The miscreant Nena
Sahib, the spirited but unscrupulous Ranee of Jhansi, many of the
princes of the house of Delhi, and others whose names and deeds have
often been recorded in these pages, had—for some years preceding the
outbreak—brooded over their real or fancied wrongs in some such matters
as these. Is it matter for surprise that they welcomed a day of
revenge—a day that might possibly restore to them that of which they
deemed themselves unjustly deprived?
The Rajah of Nargoond was one of those to whom, in a minor degree, this
principle applied. He was a South Mahratta prince, holding a small
territory eastward of Dharwar—separated from Bombay by the once
disturbed Kolapore district. Being one of the tributaries to the Bombay
government, he petitioned for leave to adopt an heir to his raj or
rajahship; and the result of this petition was such as to render him a
bitter enemy. His enmity made itself apparent about the date to which
this chapter relates, in intrigues with the malcontents around him. A
ruthless murder brought matters to an issue. Mr Manson, political agent
for the South Mahratta country, having cause to suspect the rajah, set
out from Belgaum to seek a personal interview with him, in the hope of
dissuading him from rebel movements. They had been on terms of intimacy,
which seemed to justify this hope. On the evening of the 29th of May, Mr
Manson reached Ramdroog—the chieftain of which advised him to be on his
guard, as the Rajah of Nargoond could not be relied on. The unhappy
gentleman, believing otherwise, pushed on towards Nargoond. That same
night his palanquin was surrounded by a body of the rajah’s troops at
Soorbund, fifteen miles from Nargoond, and the political agent was
foully murdered, together with most of his escort.
The Bombay government at once issued orders to attack the insurgents,
and deal severely with the disaffected chieftains. It had been already
ascertained that in the Dharwar collectorate, besides the Rajah of
Nargoond, there were Bheem Rao of Moondurg, and the Desaee of Hembegee,
to be confronted. The South Mahratta country, being near the
boundary-line between the Bombay and Madras presidencies, had facilities
for receiving small bodies of troops from two directions, to quell any
disturbances that might arise. A Madras column, setting out from Bellary
under Major Hughes, proceeded northward, and invested the stronghold of
Bheem Rao at Kopal or Copal. A message was sent to this chief, giving
him three hours to remove the women and children from the place. He
returned no answer; whereupon a cannonade was opened. A breach was made
practicable; a storming-party entered; the rebels gave way at every
point; and very speedily the town and fort were in Major Hughes’s
possession. Bheem Rao himself, as well as Kenchengowda, the Desaee of
Hembegee, were among the slain on this occasion. While Hughes was thus
occupied at Kopal, a small column of Bombay troops was engaged in
another part of the South Mahratta country. Three or four hundred men,
with two guns, started from Belgaum under Captain Paget, and joined a
party of Mahratta horse under Colonel Malcolm at Noolgoond. They
advanced on the 1st of June to Nargoond, the stronghold of the rebel
rajah. This stronghold consisted of a fortress on the summit of a rock
eight hundred feet high, with the town at its base. A reconnaissance
being made, it was found that nearly two thousand rebels were encamped
about a mile out of the town; and the rajah could be seen, on an
elephant, brandishing his sword. Malcolm sent on the Mahratta horse to
commence the attack; with the two guns, two companies of the 74th
Highlanders, and one of the 28th Bombay infantry, to support. Of
fighting there was scarcely any; the rebels very soon fled from the
plain and the town, and left them in the hands of Malcolm. The
rock-fortress, however, still remained unconquered. Early in the morning
of the 2d, a storming-party was sent to ascend the steep and rugged
pathway which led up to the gate of the fortress, prepared to blow it
open with powder. Only one rebel was visible; and after a couple of
rifles had been fired at him, the gate was forced open and an entrance
obtained. Four men, the only occupants of the fortress, threw themselves
over a precipitous wall in a panic terror, and were dashed to
pieces—either not understanding or not believing the promise of quarter
offered to them.
[Illustration:
KOLAPORE.
]
Thus fell the fortress of Nargoond, which had been regarded as a
formidable stronghold ever since the days of Tippoo Saib. The rajah fled
early in the fight, with seven of his principal followers. Mr Souter,
police-superintendent at Belgaum, knowing the rajah’s complicity in the
murder of Mr Manson,[182] set out in pursuit of him. At sunset on the
2d, the rajah and his followers were discovered skulking in a belt of
jungle on the banks of the Malpurba, near Ramdroog; all but one were
captured, just as they were about to start for Punderpore. They were
sent to Belgaum, to be tried by a special commission. As to the rajah,
the last hour of this wretched man was marked by very unseemly
circumstances. On the 11th of June he was brought to trial, before
Captain Schneider, political agent at Belgaum. He was found guilty of
the crimes imputed to him, and was sentenced to be hanged on the next
day. Early in the morning of the 12th, two companies of H.M. 56th, and
two of the 20th Bombay native infantry, marched into Belgaum from
Dharwar to afford a guard during the execution. When the last hour was
approaching, the rajah begged hard to be blown from a gun, as a less
degrading death than hanging; but the authorities on the spot were not
empowered to accede to this application. The gallows was erected, and
the hanging effected; but the rope broke, and the wretched man fell to
the ground, where an undignified struggle took place between him and his
executioners. The extreme sentence of the law was at length carried out,
but not without evidences of mismanagement that added to the painfulness
of the whole scene.
In connection with the affairs of the Bombay presidency generally, a few
observations may be made on the state of the native army. One of the
questions that pressed upon the authorities during many months bore
relation to the treatment of the disarmed sepoy regiments—regiments
which, though disarmed for suspicious conduct, had not so far committed
themselves as to receive any more severe punishment. In the Punjaub Sir
John Lawrence was troubled with the safe keeping of many thousands of
these men; he dared not re-arm them, for their fidelity was more than
doubtful; and he would not disband and dismiss them, lest they should
swell the ranks of the rebels. Lord Elphinstone, governor of Bombay, was
affected by this difficulty only in a small degree, because the
mutineers in the Bombay army were few in number. A proceeding took
place, however, in the month now under notice, which will illustrate one
of the modes adopted of dealing with these dangerous incumbrances. It
will be remembered[183] that in the early part of August 1857 many parts
of the South Mahratta country were thrown into agitation by the
appearance of mutiny among certain of the Bombay native troops.
Kolapore, Poonah, Satara, Belgaum, Dharwar, Rutnagherry, and Sawunt
Waree were the chief places affected; a plot was discovered, in which
some of the troops were leagued with certain Mohammedan
fanatics—discovered in time to prevent the massacre of numerous
Europeans. The 21st and 27th regiments were two of those implicated; or
rather some of the companies in those regiments; while other companies,
not actually detected in the conspiracy, were simply disarmed. In this
disarmed state the men remained more than ten months, watched, but not
treated otherwise as culprits. At length a settlement of their treatment
was effected. Lord Elphinstone and his council decided as follows: That
the native commissioned officers, present when the disarming took place,
should be dismissed from the army, unless they could bring forward
special proofs of fidelity—that of the native non-commissioned officers,
the elder should be expelled, and the younger reduced to the ranks—that
the sepoys or privates should not be expelled unless special grounds
were assignable in their disfavor—that the 21st and 27th regiments
should be formally erased from the Bombay army list, to mark with some
stigma the conduct of those regiments—that two new regiments, to be
called the 30th and 31st infantry, should be formed, with a rank lower
in dignity than that of the other native infantry regiments of the
Bombay army—that all the privates of the (late) 21st and 27th, with
excepted instances, and such native officers as could clear themselves
from ill charges, should form the bulk of the two new regiments—finally,
that the vacancies in the list of officers (subadars, jemadars,
havildars, naiks) should be filled by chosen sepoys who had worthily
distinguished themselves in the campaigns of Rajpootana and Central
India. Lord Elphinstone, in his order in council relating to this
matter, dwelt upon the disgrace which had been brought upon the Bombay
army by the misdeeds of some of the men of the late 21st and 27th
regiments; adverted to the terrible deaths which most of them had met
with in the Kolapore region; exhorted the rest to beware how they
listened to the solicitations and machinations of traitors; and added:
‘The Governor in Council trusts that the 30th and 31st regiments will,
by their future conduct, shew their determination to render themselves
worthy of the leniency with which they have been treated, and to wipe
out the stain which the crimes of the 21st and 27th have left upon the
character of the Bombay army; so that the recollection of their past
misdeeds may be as effectually effaced from the minds of men, as their
former numbers will be erased from the roll of the army.’
Another instance, somewhat analogous to this, was presented in the
Punjaub. During the early days of the Revolt, the 36th and 61st Bengal
regiments at Jullundur, and the 3d at Phillour, were among those which
mutinied. Some of the sepoys in each, however, remained free from the
taint; they stood faithful under great temptation. At a later date even
these men were disarmed, from motives of policy; and they had none but
nominal duties intrusted to them. At length Sir John Lawrence, finding
that these men had passed through the ordeal honourably, proposed that
they should be re-armed, and noticed in a way consistent with their
merits. This was agreed to. About three hundred and fifty officers and
men, the faithful exceptions of three unfaithful regiments, were formed
into a special corps to be called the Wufadar Pultun or ‘faithful
regiment.’ This new corps was to be in four companies, organised on the
same footing as the Punjaub irregular infantry; and was to be stationed
at some place where the men would not have their feelings wounded and
irritated by the taunts of the Punjaubee soldiery—between whom and the
Hindustani sepoys the relations were anything but amicable. Any of the
selected number who preferred it, might receive an honourable discharge
from the army instead of entering any new corps. The experiment was
regarded as an important one; seeing that it might afford a clue to the
best mode of dealing with the numerous disarmed sepoys in the Punjaub.
The Bombay presidency was not so closely engaged in political and
military matters as to neglect the machinery of peaceful industry, the
stay and support of a nation. Another of those paths to commerce and
civilisation, railways, was opened for traffic in India in June. It was
a portion of a great trunk-line which, when completed, would connect
Bombay with Madras. The length opened was from Khandalla to Poonah; and
this, with another portion opened in 1853, completed a route from Bombay
to Poonah, excepting a long tunnel under the range of hills called the
Bhore Ghauts, which was not expected to be completed until 1860. On the
day of ceremonial opening, a journey was made from Bombay to Poonah and
back in eighteen hours, including four hours of portage or porterage at
the Bhore Ghauts. There were intermediate stations at Kirkee and
Tulligaum. The Company organised a scheme including conveyance across
the ghauts, by palkees and gharries, as part of their passenger
contract. An instructive index to the advancing state of society in
India was afforded by the fact, that one of the great Parsee merchants
of Bombay, Cursetjee Jamsetjee, was the leading personage in the
hospitalities connected with this railway-opening ceremonial.
A few remarks on the sister presidency, and this chapter may close.
If Madras, now as in former months, was wholly spared from fighting and
treason, it at least furnished an instance of the difficulty attending
any collision on religious matters with the natives. The Wesleyan
missionaries had a chapel and school in the district of Madras city
called Royapettah. Many native children attended the school, for the
sake of the secular instruction there given, without becoming formal
converts. One of them, a youth of fifteen or sixteen, mentioned to the
Rev. Mr Jenkins, the Wesleyan minister, his wish to become a Christian;
it was found on inquiry, however, that the parents were averse to this;
and Mr Jenkins left it to the youth whether he would join the mission or
return to his parents. He chose the former course. Hereupon a
disturbance commenced among the friends of the family; this was put down
by the police; but as the youth remained at the mission-house, the
religious prejudices of the natives became excited, and the disturbance
swelled into a riot. A mob collected in front of the mission-house,
entered the compound, threw stones and bricks at the house, forced open
the door, and broke all the furniture. Mr Jenkins and another missionary
named Stephenson, retreated from room to room, until they got into the
bathroom, and then managed to climb over a wall into another compound,
where they found protection. It was a mere local and temporary riot,
followed by the capture of some of the offenders and the escape of
others; but it was just such a spark as, in other regions of India,
might have set a whole province into a flame. The missionaries,
estimating the youth’s age at seventeen or eighteen years, claimed for
him a right of determining whether he would return to his parents (who
belonged to the Moodelly caste), or enter the mission; whereas some of
the zealots on the other side, declaring that his age was only twelve or
thirteen, advocated the rightful exercise of parental authority. The
magistrates, without entering into this question of disputed figures,
recommended to the missionaries the exercise of great caution, in any
matters likely to arouse the religious animosity of the natives; and
there can be little doubt that, in the prevailing state of native
feeling, such caution was eminently necessary.
Note.
_Queen’s Regiments in India in June_.—Sufficient has been said in
former chapters to convey some notion of the European element in the
Indian army in past years; the necessity for increasing the strength
of that element; the relation between the Queen’s troops and the
Company’s troops; the difficulty of sparing additional troops from
England; the mode in which that difficulty was overcome; and the
controversy concerning the best route for troop-ships. It seems
desirable to add here a few particulars concerning the actual number
of European troops in India at or about the time to which this
chapter relates, and the localities in which they were stationed.
The following list, correct as to the regiments, is liable to
modification in respect of localities. Many of the regiments were at
the time in detachments, serving in different places; in such cases,
the station of the main body only is named. Other regiments were at
the time on the march; these are referred to the station towards
which they were marching.
QUEEN’S TROOPS IN THE BENGAL ARMY.
It may here be remarked, that the distinctions between ‘fusiliers,’
‘foot,’ ‘light infantry,’ ‘Highlanders,’ and ‘rifles,’ are more
nominal than real; these are all infantry regiments of the line,
with a special number attached to each—except the particular corps
called the ‘Rifle Brigade.’
_Cavalry._
2d Dra. Gds., Lucknow.
6th Dra. Gds., Meerut.
7th Dra. Gds., Sealkote.
7th Lt. Dra., Lucknow.
9th Lancers, Umballa.
Mil. Trn., 2d bat., Benares.
_Horse-artillery._
E Troop, Allahabad.
F Troop, Lucknow.
_Foot-artillery._
2d Bat. 8th Com. Benares.
3d Bat. 5th Com. Calcutta.
5th Bat. 4th Com. Lucknow.
6th Bat. 1st Com. Moultan.
7th Bat. 6th Com. Rawul Pindee.
8th Bat. 3d Com. Lucknow.
9th Bat. 3d Com. Dumdum.
11th Bat. 6th Com. Lucknow.
12th Bat. 5th Com. Lucknow.
13th Bat. 5th Com. Bunnee.
13th Bat. 6th Com. Lucknow.
14th Bat. 3d Com. Agra.
14th Bat. 4th Com. Allahabad.
14th Bat. 7th Com. Futteghur.
_Engineers._
4th Company, Lucknow.
23d Company, Lucknow.
_Infantry._
5th Fusiliers, Calpee.
7th Fusiliers, Meean Meer.
8th foot, Agra.
10th foot, Dinapoor.
13th Lt. Infantry, Goruckpore.
19th foot, Barrackpore.
20th foot, Lucknow.
23d Fusiliers, Lucknow.
24th foot, Ferozpore.
27th foot, Umballa.
29th foot, Rangoon.
32d Lt. Infantry, Allahabad.
34th foot, Azimghur.
35th foot, Dinapoor.
37th foot, Ghazeepore.
38th foot, Lucknow.
42d Highlanders, Bareilly.
52d foot, Sealkote.
53d foot, Lucknow.
54th foot, Allahabad.
60th Rif., 1st bat. Shahjehanpoor.
60th Rif., 2d bat. Dinapoor.
61st Delhi.
70th Peshawur.
73d Sheergotty.
75th Meerut.
77th Calcutta.
79th Futteghur.
80th Cawnpore.
81st Nowsherah.
82d Shahjehanpoor.
84th Buxar.
87th Jullundur.
88th Cawnpore.
90th Lucknow.
93d Bareilly.
97th Lucknow.
98th Campbellpoor.
Rif. Brig., 2d bat. Lucknow.
Rif. Brig., 3d bat. Lucknow.
QUEEN’S TROOPS IN THE BOMBAY ARMY.
The preceding list, relating to the Bengal army, gives the names and
localities of regiments for the later weeks of June; the following,
having reference to the Bombay army, applies to the earlier part of
the same month; but the difference in this respect cannot be
considerable.
_Cavalry._
3d Drag. Guards, Kirkee.
8th Hussars, Nuseerabad.
14th Light Drag., Calpee.
17th Lancers, Kirkee.
_Horse-artillery._
D Troop, Poonah.
_Foot-artillery._
1st Bat. 8th Com., Baroda.
4th Bat. 3d Com. Rajpootana.
6th Bat. 1st Com. Sinde.
11th Bat. 2d Com., Rajpootana.
11th Bat. 7th Com. Bombay.
14th Bat. 5th Com. Cen. India.
14th Bat. 8th Com. Dharwar.
_Engineers._
11th Company, Rajpootana.
21st Company, Cen. India.
_Infantry._
4th foot, Gujerat.
18th Royal Irish, Poonah.
33d foot, Poonah.
51st foot, Kurachee.
56th foot, Belgaum.
57th foot, Aden.
64th foot, Allygurh.
71st Highlanders, Calpee.
72d Highlanders, Neemuch.
78th Highlanders, Alum Bagh.
83d foot, Rajpootana.
86th foot, Calpee.
89th foot, Ahmedabad.
92d Highlanders, Bombay.
95th foot, Rajpootana.
QUEEN’S TROOPS IN THE MADRAS ARMY.
The following list applies to the state of affairs about the third
week in June:
_Cavalry._
1st Drag. Guards, Bangalore.
12th Lancers, Kurnool.
_Horse-artillery._
II Troop, Mount.
_Foot-artillery._
3d Bat. 3d Com., Bangalore.
14th Bat. 6th Com., Bundelcund.
_Infantry._
1st foot, 1st Battalion, Secunderabad.
43d foot, Bundelcund.
44th foot, Madras.
60th Rifles, 3d Battalion, Bangalore.
66th foot, Cananore.
68th foot, Rangoon.
69th foot, Vizagapatam.
74th foot, Bellary.
Summing up these entries, it will be seen that out of the 99
regiments of the line in the British army (the 100th, a new Canadian
regiment, had not at that time completed its organisation), no less
than 59 were in India in June 1858; with a proportion of the other
branches of the military service. Nothing can more strikingly
illustrate the importance attached to the state of our Indian
possessions.
On the 1st of January 1857, there were about 26,000 royal troops and
12,000 Company’s European troops in India. During the ensuing
fifteen months, to April 1858, there were sent over 42,000 royal
troops and 5000 Company’s Europeans. These would have given a total
of 85,000 British troops in India; but it was estimated that war,
sickness, and heat had lessened this number to 50,000 available
effective men. At that time the arrangements of the English
authorities were such as to insure the speedy increase of this
European element to not less than 70,000 men; and during the summer,
still further advances were made in the same direction.
[Illustration]
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Footnote 180:
Chapter xxviii., p. 469.
Footnote 181:
‘MY DEAR BARROW—We are about to separate, perhaps for ever; but,
believe me, I shall ever retain you in affectionate remembrance, and
ever speak with that intense admiration which I feel for the glorious
volunteers whom you have commanded with such distinction. It would
afford me much pleasure to shake every one of them by the hand, and
tell them how warmly I feel towards them. But this is impossible; my
pressing duties will not allow me even to write a few farewell lines
to each of your officers: but I trust to your communicating to them
individually my affectionate adieu and sincerest wishes for their
prosperity. May God bless you and them.’ From one like Sir James, who
had had such special means of observing and appreciating the exertions
of the volunteer cavalry, this warm and genial letter must have been
doubly gratifying.
Footnote 182:
The governor of Bombay, in a public notification, used many
expressions of respect towards the memory of the political agent.
Adverting to the advice given to Mr Manson not to trust himself to the
mercies of the Rajah of Nargoond, Lord Elphinstone said: ‘But with
that noble devotion to duty, of which the recent history of India has
presented so many instances, Mr Manson determined to make a final
effort to save the chief, by his personal influence, from the ruin
impending over him.’ He added that the facts shewed ‘that a gallant
and accomplished gentleman, who had proved himself a most valuable
servant of the state, has been basely murdered.’ And he concluded by
announcing that ‘the body of Mr Manson has been recovered, and has
been buried at Kulladgee. The Right Hon. the Governor in Council will
regard it as a sacred duty to make a provision for the families of the
brave men who lost their lives in defending one whose untimely fate is
now so deeply deplored.’
Footnote 183:
See Chap. xvii., pp. 289, 290.
[Illustration:
Almorah, Hill-station in Kumaon.
]