The History of the Indian Revolt and of the Expeditions to Persia, China and Japan 1856-7-8

Whatever was to be the course pursued, Delhi remained, at the period to which this chapter relates, undestroyed. The city-wall was still standing, with the breaches hastily earthed up; all the gates had been closed, except the Cashmere, Lahore, and Calcutta Gates, but none destroyed; the fractured Cashmere Gate had been replaced by a temporary wooden barrier; the English church had been painted and repaired; the college, riddled by cannon and musket balls, had been converted into a barrack; the magazine remained as poor Willoughby had left it, half blown up; and the palace had not suffered very materially from the siege. Concerning the principal street of the city, an eye-witness wrote as follows: ‘The Chandnee Chowk is the only street we have seen in India to which the terms of descriptive admiration bestowed on European cities justly apply. If the traveller does not examine details too minutely, the cheerful picturesque aspect of the Chandnee Chowk may remind him for a moment of the Parisian boulevards. In the centre of a spacious street is a double row of well-grown trees, on either side a broad roadway flanked by irregular picturesque buildings. But if we speak of this street as being in 1858 cheerful, we can allude only to its architectural structure. Neither its associations nor its own present accompaniments and accessories are other than gloomy. Every house has been plundered; and the little show of property, as it begins again under the protection of British bayonets slowly to accumulate, cannot disguise the ruin which 1857 has created. To a stranger, the population that flows up and down the shining street would seem large; but to one who saw Delhi and the Chandnee Chowk before the rebellion, it is but as the ghost of the former life of the place that moves to and fro. There is the mosque where Nadir Shah sat and witnessed his great massacre. There is the Kotwallee or police-station, whereat were exposed the bodies of murdered Europeans, and afterwards of their murderers the princes, whom Hodson slew. In front of this building stand now three large gibbets, whereon have been already justly executed between two and three hundred of those who joined in the murder and rapine of the 11th of May, and on which more culprits are destined yet to pay for their crimes. Everywhere the demeanour of the native population is more than respectful to the Europeans – it is cringing. Fear possesses every soul. Never was a conquest more thorough than is for the present that of Delhi and its neighbourhood by the British. The present disposition of the native mind in Delhi towards us, of terror and trembling obedience, is one which no wise man can wish permanently to continue. It is a disposition, however, which no wise man will deny that it was necessary temporarily to create, if the mild uniformity of British rule was ever again to be asserted in Delhi.’ In connection with these observations, it may be stated that the cringing servility of the natives, so manifest at Delhi, was by no means so evident in Oude and the Doab. A sullen haughtiness, or perhaps a fierce vindictiveness, was visible on the countenances of a very large percentage of those natives with whom the British came into contact, telling of discontent, or of hostile passion.

Of Rohilcund it is not necessary to say much in this chapter. The greater part of it still continued, as it had been for nine months, in the hands of the rebels; and in addition to this, many of the escaped mutineer regiments from Lucknow had unquestionably directed their steps to this province, to swell the numbers of those who were in arms against the British. General Walpole was sent out against them with a powerful column; what he achieved, we shall see in the proper place.

That part of Rohilcund which constitutes the ‘Hills,’ the group of healthy hill-stations at the base of the Himalaya, though nearly cut off from communication with the Jumna regions, maintained itself bravely, never once falling into the hands of the armed insurgents. Colonel M’Causland, military commandant in Kumaon, so steadily and watchfully maintained British interests in that remote hilly province, that he generally detected hostile machinations in time to frustrate them. He had chiefly Goorkhas for troops, Rohilcund rebels for opponents; and he seldom failed to baffle and defeat those rebels, whether his force were great or small. Early in March he heard that the insurgents had sent a detachment to collect revenue – that is, to plunder – at Sitargunje, a place twenty-five miles from his camp at Huldwanee. He determined to surprise them; and although the success was not so great as he could have wished, through the unexpected absence of the larger part of the enemy’s force, still those who were met with were speedily vanquished. He intrusted the enterprise to Captain Baugh, who commanded the Nepaul Contingent in the Kumaon brigade. Baugh started off on the evening of the 3d, taking with him about 220 horse and foot, and two mountain howitzers. To expedite matters, he mounted his infantry and artillery on elephants; but during the night his progress was retarded ‘by an elephant carrying one of the mountain howitzers falling sick.’ Arriving at Sitargunje early in the morning of the 4th, he found that the main body of rebels had departed on the preceding day to a village about six miles distant. Most of those remaining were within the government tehseel, a high building forty or fifty yards square; and these did not fight; they fell or escaped as their individual luck determined. Captain Baugh brought away from the place whatever he thought might be most useful. Finding that the main body of the insurgents, under Fuzul Huq, numbered not less than 5000 men, with six guns, he did not deem it prudent to march after them with his little force to Butteree, the village where they were on that day encamped, about midway between Huldwanee and Bareilly.

The Punjaub and Sirhind continued to be nearly free from anarchy. Yet there were symptoms which, if left unattended to, might have led to evil. The 4th regiment Bengal native cavalry, one of the last remaining links in that fine army, was disarmed and unhorsed at Umballa during the month of March. After ten months of faithfulness, amid the treachery of so many of their compatriots, these troopers at length exhibited a tendency to insubordination, not safely to be overlooked. In the Punjaub generally the movements of troops were very frequent and rapid, shewing that the authorities were well on the alert. Wishing to obtain a healthy military station west of the Indus, the brigadier in command laid the foundation of Campbellpore – a station named in honour of the commander-in-chief. This custom was often adopted in India: witness Jacobabad and Sleemanabad.

One of the most instructive facts brought to light during the wars of the mutiny, was the ardour with which some of the natives of India joined in waging battle with others. During the first and second Sikh wars, the sepoys of the Bengal native army unquestionably fought heroically against the Sikhs, winning battles in a way that excited the admiration of their British officers. And now the Sikhs shewed themselves equally willing to aid the British against the sepoys, and equally able to vanquish them in the field. Two inferences may legitimately be drawn from this – that success depended rather on the British officers than on the kind of troops whom they commanded; and that the maintenance of an army formed of any one nation in India is not so safe as the admixture of nationalities, each to act as a check upon the other. The subject is adverted to in this place, because the month of March witnessed the return of the Guides to Peshawur, and the honours that marked that event. It will be remembered142 that this celebrated corps, chosen among the Punjaubees for their activity and intelligence, consisted of two small regiments, one of infantry and one of cavalry; that they made an extraordinary march of 750 miles, from Peshawur to Delhi, in the hot weather of June 1857; and that they served most gallantly in the operations against that city during the autumnal months. They remained until February in and near Delhi, and then returned to their native country. Major-general Cotton, commanding in the Peshawur division, made a point of giving the gallant fellows an honorary reception. He caused all the troops in the Peshawur cantonment to be paraded on the 16th of March. On the approach of the Guides to the parade-ground, the assembled troops saluted and the guns fired; the major-general delivered an address; a feu de joie and an ordnance salute of twenty guns followed; and the Guides marched past him in full military array. Captain Battye, who had commanded the cavalry portion of the force, was killed almost immediately on the arrival of the Guides at Delhi; but Captain Daly lived to return. Cotton addressed Daly and his companions first, welcoming them back to Peshawur; and then he addressed the Peshawur force generally, telling them of the wonderful march which the Guides had made nine months before, and of their deeds at Delhi. ‘Within three hours after reaching Delhi, the Guides engaged the enemy, and every one of their officers was wounded. For nearly four months, officers and men were almost constantly in action, sometimes twice a day. They took 600 men to Delhi, and received 200 recruits during the siege. Not one man deserted to the enemy or from the corps; but no less than 350 were killed and wounded, and 120 fell to rise no more. I need not dwell on their separate deeds of valour, their general actions, their skirmishes, or their single combats; but as a specimen of the spirit that animated the corps, I will mention that a mere boy, Singh by name, bore a wounded European soldier out of the battle.’

In connection with this subject, it may be remarked that the personal character of the British officers has always exercised a very notable influence over the native troops of India. In Brigadier Hodgson’s Opinions on the Indian Army, an anecdote is related, illustrative of the power possessed over the sepoys by any commander whose prowess and genius they had learned to value. A native officer, speaking to him of events which he had himself witnessed, said: ‘During the campaign against the Mahrattas, in the year 1804, we made a tremendous forced march of 54 miles in 30 hours, and surprised Holkar and his cavalry at Furruckabad, and routed them with great slaughter. We had marched 250 miles in 13 days. The troops had been upon very short commons for some time; and you, sir, know what a tyrant a hungry belly is. The sepahees (sepoys) began to be very loud in their grumblings, and expressed their discontent pretty freely. This was reported. A short time afterwards, Lick Sahib Bahadoor (Lord Lake) was observed riding past the column eating dry pulse. This fact spread rapidly through the ranks; and from that moment, not the whisper of a murmur was heard. I believe, sir, had a man grumbled after that, he would have run the risk of being put to death by his companions – such was the love and veneration the sepahees had for Lick Sahib Bahadoor.’

Some of the half-savage mountain tribes of Peshawur and the Afghan frontier gave occasional trouble; but neither there nor in Sinde were the authorities prevented from sending reinforcements to the more troubled provinces. In connection with Sinde, it may be mentioned that Mr Frere, commissioner of that province, communicated a singular document to Lord Elphinstone, governor of the Bombay presidency. It was not directly connected with the mutiny or its instigators; but was nevertheless deemed important by Mr Frere, as illustrating phases of Hindoo character concerning which Europeans know so little. The information was given by Mr Macdonald, deputy-collector of Larkhana, in his weekly digest under date 20th of March. We transcribe it in a foot-note.143

We may now conveniently turn our attention to Central India – that region, south of the Jumna, in which Mahrattas and Bundelas were so strong. We have stated in former chapters that Sir Hugh Rose, a distinguished Bombay officer, was placed in command of various regiments and detachments known collectively as the ‘Central India Field-force.’ He was gradually working his way northward to the notorious city of Jhansi, defeating rebels everywhere on his road. On the 4th of March, Sir Hugh Rose was enabled to telegraph the following news, from his camp at Peeplia: ‘Yesterday, the troops under my command forced the pass of Mudenpore, after a short but very vigorous resistance. The troops, British and native, behaved gallantly. The pass is extremely strong, and the enemy suffered severely. They numbered about 4000 or 5000 Pathans and Bundelas, and 600 or 700 sepoys of the 52d and other regiments. I sent Major Orr in pursuit; and he cut up 50 or 60 rebels, of whom a large proportion were sepoys. The enemy are scattered in every direction. They have abandoned the little fortress of Seraj, a fort or arsenal which is the property of the Rajah of Shagurh, in which I shall have a small force to keep up my communication with Saugor. I am now in communication with my first brigade (under Brigadier Stuart) at Chendaree, and this gives me command of the whole of the country up to Jhansi, with the exception of two or three forts, which I can take.’ About a week later, he sent news to Bombay that the capture of the pass of Mudenpore – on the line of hills which separated the British district of Saugor from the little state of Shagurh – and the defeat of the rebels on the 3d, had produced advantages far exceeding those at first anticipated by him. The rebels had successively abandoned several strongholds which they had possessed – first the fort of Seraj, with four guns, a rude manufactory for powder, shot and shell, carriages and tents; then the town and fort of Murrowra, with a triple line of defences; then the town and fort of Multhone; next the pass of Goonah; then the pass and town of Hurat; and lastly, the fort of Cornel Gurh. As all the passes had been fortified and barricaded, their precipitate abandonment by the rebels was fortunate for Sir Hugh. Another result was the occupation by him of the hitherto independent district of Shagurh; the rajah having joined the rebels, Sir Robert Hamilton and Sir Hugh Rose resolved to punish him by ‘annexing’ his small territory, or at least occupying it until instructions could be received from Calcutta. Accordingly, on the 10th of March, the British flag was hoisted at Murrowra, in Shagurh, in presence of Rose’s second brigade, under a salute of twenty-one guns. The encampment of the brigade at this time was about twenty-five miles from Jhansi. Rose and Hamilton were well on the alert; for Balla Sahib, brother of the Nena, was at that time heading an army of rabble, and levying contributions in various parts of Bundelcund. What troops this rebel had with him, was not clearly known; but it was found that the Rajah of Chuanpore had been mulcted by him of seven lacs of rupees; and the Rajah of Churkaree, resisting a similar demand, had had his town destroyed by fire, and was compelled to take refuge in his fort. Mr Carne, British resident in Churkaree, narrowly escaped capture at the hands of the rebels.

While Rose was thus engaged, Brigadier Stuart, with the first brigade of the Central India Field-force, was clearing out various rebel haunts in districts lying southward of Jhansi. On the morning of the 6th of March, Stuart’s column or brigade set out from his camp near the Chendaree fort, and marched six or eight miles to Khookwasas, a fort near which a large body of rebels were assembled. The route being through a thick jungle nearly the whole distance, the 25th and 86th regiments advanced cautiously, in skirmishing order. Arriving at a small pass near the fort, Stuart found that the enemy had barricaded the road, and lined the hills on either side with matchlockmen. The engineers soon cleared away the barricades; while a small party of the 86th rushed up the hills and dislodged the matchlockmen. Shortly afterwards, however, it was ascertained that the chief body of the enemy had taken up a position behind the wall of an enclosure about a mile from the fort. The 86th dashed forwards to gain this enclosure; two of the officers, Lieutenant Lewis and Captain Keating, climbed to its top before any of their men, and jumped down into the interior of the enclosure. The troops soon cleared out the enclosure, and then pursued their operations against the fort itself. Working his way steadily onwards, defeating and expelling bodies of insurgents from neighbouring villages, Stuart was at length enabled, on the 17th, to capture the fort of Chendaree itself. This place, situated in Malwah, about a hundred miles from Gwalior, is in a district which was assigned by Scindia in 1844, according to agreement with the British government, to assist in the maintenance of the Gwalior Contingent. The fort – consisting of a strong rampart of sandstone, flanked by circular towers, and crowning a high hill – was in the hands of insurgents at the date now under notice; and it was Brigadier Stuart’s duty to capture it. After cannonading on the evening of the 16th, he formed a practicable breach in the walls, and resolved to take the place by assault on the following morning. This he did very effectually. The 25th and 86th regiments, by an impetuous rush, carried everything before them. Captain Keating was severely wounded whilst foremost with the storming-party. The enemy mostly escaped, on account of the simple failure of a letter. On the preceding evening, the brigadier received a message informing him that Captain Abbott was within available distance with a considerable body of irregular cavalry; and in return a letter was despatched to Abbott, requesting him to gallop forward and invest the north side of the fort. This letter did not reach Abbott in time; and as a consequence, there was no obstacle to the escape of the rebels northward. All the guns, eight of iron and two of brass, were taken. The fort was given up to the keeping of one of Scindia’s lieutenants or soubahs, in friendly relation with the British; and the inhabitants of the town resumed their peaceful avocations, apparently glad to get rid of the presence of the rebels.

Stuart’s operations at Chendaree greatly facilitated the advance of Sir Hugh Rose towards Jhansi. He marched on, with the second brigade of his Central India Field-force, and reached that blood-stained city on the 21st of March. He gave a sketch of his operations from the 20th to the 25th in the following brief telegraphic form: ‘On the 20th my cavalry invested as much as possible the fort and town of Jhansi. The next day the rest of my force arrived. The rebels have fortified the walls of the town, and, shutting themselves up in the town and fort, have not defended the advanced position of Jhansi. The ranee has left her palace in the town, and has gone into the fort. The rebel garrison numbers about 1500 sepoys, of whom 500 are cavalry, and 10,000 Bundelas, with 30 or 40 cannon. Their position is strong; but I have occupied two good positions, one a breaching, the other a flanking one. I have been delayed by the want of a plan of Jhansi, and consequently have been obliged to make long and repeated reconnaissances. I opened a flanking fire, vertical and horizontal, yesterday (the 25th), and hope to open a breaching fire to-morrow, or at latest the next day.’ We shall see in a later page that Sir Hugh completely succeeded in his assault, early in April.

The present may be a proper place in which to advert to a matter which greatly agitated the public mind from time to time, both in England and India – namely, the conduct of the insurgents towards those of the British who unfortunately fell into their power. Jhansi was one of the stations in respect to which horror was most distressingly expressed. The morbid taste for horrors engendered by the incidents of the Revolt gave rise to many exaggerations. The terrible news from Delhi, Cawnpore, Jhansi, and other places, during the early months of the struggle, produced mischief in two ways; it created a demand for indiscriminate sanguinary vengeance; and it produced a tendency, not only to believe, but to exaggerate, all rumours of atrocities as committed by the natives. In England as well as at Calcutta, controversies almost of a fierce character arose on these points; the advocates on one side treating it as a point of honour to believe the tragedies in their worst form; while those on the other, in bitter terms demanded proof that the rumours were true. It was extremely difficult to disprove any statements concerning atrocities committed; for in most cases there were no Europeans left behind to give trustworthy testimony. Circumstances became known, during the progress of the military operations, which led to an inference that, though inhuman slaughter of innocent persons unquestionably took place soon after Delhi fell into the hands of the insurgents, it was not preceded by so much of hideous barbarity towards the women and children as had at first been reported and believed. It also became more and more evident, as time advanced, that many of the inscriptions on the wall of the slaughter-room at Cawnpore must have been written after the departure or death of the hapless persons whose writing they professed to be, by some one who failed to see the cruelty of the hoax he was perpetrating. This subject is adverted to in the present place, because the month of March lightened a little the terrible severity of the story of Jhansi, one of those which made a distressing impression on the public mind. It will be remembered144 that, early in June of the preceding year, the British at Jhansi, upwards of fifty in number, were all put to death by the insurgents, acting at the instigation of a woman, the ranee or chieftainess of Jhansi; the destruction was so complete, that no European was left to tell the true incidents. Nine months afterwards, in the month of March, some of the English newspapers in India gave a detail of revolting indignities said to have been inflicted on the females of the party at Jhansi – greatly adding to the distress already felt by the relatives of the murdered persons. Jhansi had by that time been restored to British rule; and Captain Pinkney, superintendent of Jhansi, Jaloun, and Chendaree, determined to ascertain how far the real facts could be got at. After a diligent inquiry in various quarters, he arrived at a belief that the massacre, however barbarous, had not been deepened in atrocity by the frightful circumstances put forth in the newspapers. The truth appeared to him to be as follows: When the British in the fort were unable longer to hold out through want of food, they surrendered to the rebels, who swore that they would spare all their lives. No sooner, however, were the fort-gates opened, than the rebels entered, bound the men, and took them as well as the women and children to a place outside the city-walls called the Jokun Bagh. Here the men were placed in one group, and the women and children in another. The rebels and the ranee’s armed servants then murdered all the men, Major Skene being the first cut down by the jail darogah, one Bukshish Ali. After this the women and children were put to death with swords and spears. The dead bodies were stripped, and left two days in the Jokun Bagh, when they were all thrown into a neighbouring stream. Shortly after the writing of Captain Pinkney’s report, a letter was sent to the supreme government by Sir Robert Hamilton, political agent in Central India, in which a few of the facts were somewhat differently stated. According to his account, when the unhappy Europeans reached the Jokun Bagh, ‘they were stopped on the roadside under some trees. They were accompanied by a crowd of mutinous sepoys, irregular sowars, disaffected police, fanatic Mussulmans, men in the service of the ranee, inhabitants of the town, and rabble. Here Bukshish Ali, jail darogah, called out: “It is the ressaldar’s order that all should be killed;” and immediately cut down Captain (Major) Skene, to whom he was indebted for his situation under government. An indiscriminate slaughter of the men, women, and children then commenced; all were mercilessly destroyed, and their bodies left strewn about the road, where they remained until the third day, when, by permission of the same ressaldar, they were all buried in two gravel-pits close by.’ Execrable as this was, it was far less harrowing than the newspaper narratives which had given rise to the investigation. Captain Pinkney ascertained that the total number of Europeans thus barbarously murdered was sixty-seven, of whom just about one half were women and children. Sir Robert Hamilton caused the ground around the two gravel-pits to be cleared, and an enclosing wall to be built; he and all the other officials, on a selected day, attended a funeral-service at the spot, delivered by the Rev. Mr Schwabe, chaplain to the station; and he also planned the erection of an obelisk. Strange that India should become the ground for so many obelisks and crosses erected in memory of Europeans ruthlessly murdered by natives. One hundred and two years before, in 1756, Suraj-u-Dowlah, after conquering Calcutta from the Company’s servants, drove a hundred and forty-six adult Europeans, on a sultry June evening, into a dungeon only twenty feet square; and of those miserable creatures, a hundred and twenty-three died during the night, of heat, thirst, pressure, suffocation, and madness. An obelisk was afterwards set up, to mark this terrible ‘Black Hole of Calcutta.’ And now, in the middle of the nineteenth century, the English again found themselves engaged in erecting these damning memorials of native brutality, at Cawnpore and at Jhansi.