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

It was on the last day of the month that Sir Colin Campbell and General Walpole arrived at Shahjehanpoor; and then it was to learn that the wily and active Moulvie had again outmanœuvred them. The plan had been to draw a cordon more and more closely round the rebels at Shahjehanpoor and Bareilly, and thus to catch them as in a trap. But the Moulvie would not enter the trap. He held Shahjehanpoor, with a considerable force of men and guns, as long as he deemed it safe, and then escaped just at the right moment. It was well to regain Shahjehanpoor, after that place had been eleven months in the hands of rebels; but it was vexing to learn that the Moulvie had retreated towards Oude – the very province where his presence was least desired by the British. Nena Sahib, it was also ascertained, had quitted Shahjehanpoor a few days earlier, and just before leaving, had ordered the government buildings to be destroyed, in order that the British troops might find no shelter when they arrived. This cowardly, ruthless, but active and inventive chieftain succeeded in his aim in this matter; there were few roofed buildings left, and the encampment had to be effected under a tope of trees, with earthen intrenchments thrown up around.

It is evident, from this summary of Rohilcund affairs, that the operations against the rebels in that province did not advance far during the month of April, as concerns any effective crushing of the rebellion. The insurgents were beaten wherever met with; but their ubiquity and vitality greatly puzzled Sir Colin and his brigadier; and it remained to be seen how far the month of May would witness the re-establishment of British authority in Rohilcund and Oude. Some of the columns and field-forces had penetrated from the east and south as far as Shahjehanpoor, others from the west and northwest as far as Mooradabad; but Bareilly, the chief city in Rohilcund, had not been reached by any of them at the end of April.

Few events caused more regret in the army at this period than the death of Captain Sir William Peel, the gallant seaman who had earned so high a reputation as commander of the Naval Brigade. After his wound, received at Lucknow, he was carried in a doolie or litter to Cawnpore; and when at that station he gradually became able to walk about slowly by the aid of a stick. He soon, however, exhibited symptoms of small-pox, which, acting on a system at once ardent and debilitated, proved fatal. He died at Cawnpore after Sir Colin Campbell’s force had departed from that place towards Futteghur; and thus the Queen and the country lost the services of an eminent son of an eminent statesman. Every one felt the justice of the special compliment paid to this gallant naval officer by the governor-general, in the official order issued immediately on the receipt of the news of Peel’s death.[157 - ‘Allahabad, April 30.– It is the melancholy duty of the Right Honourable the Governor-general to announce the death of that most distinguished officer, Captain Sir William Peel, K.C.B., late in command of her Majesty’s ship Shannon, and of the Naval Brigade in the Northwest Provinces.‘Sir William Peel died at Cawnpore, on the 27th instant, of small-pox. He had been wounded at the commencement of the last advance upon Lucknow, but had nearly recovered from the wound, and was on his way to Calcutta, when struck by the disease which has brought his honourable career to an early close.‘Sir William Peel’s services in the field during the last seven months are well known in India and in England. But it is not so well known how great the value of his presence and example has been wherever during this eventful period his duty has led him.‘The loss of his daring but thoughtful courage, joined with eminent abilities, is a very heavy one to his country; but it is not more to be deplored than the loss of that influence which his earnest character, admirable temper, and gentle kindly bearing exercised over all within his reach – an influence which was exerted unceasingly for the public good, and of which the governor-general believes that it may with truth be said that there is not a man of any rank or profession who, having been associated with Sir William Peel in these times of anxiety and danger, has not felt and acknowledged it.’] Throughout the Crimean, Persian, and Indian wars, the British navy had been engaged in less fighting than many of its ardent members wished; and it was therefore all the more incumbent on the authorities to notice the exertions of naval brigades when on shore.

Throughout the extent of the Upper Doab, the British officers found much difficulty in maintaining a fair stand against the rebels. Not that there were large bodies of trained sepoys in the field, as in the regions just described, and in Central India; but there were numerous chieftains, each at the head of a small band of followers, ready to harass any spot not protected by English troops. Brigadier Penny, in command of a field-force organised at Delhi, was watching the district between that city and the Ganges – ready to put down insurgents wherever he could encounter them, and hoping to assist the commander-in-chief in Rohilcund. Another column, under Brigadier Seaton, controlled the region around Futteghur before Sir Colin reached that place; and he, like Penny, Jones, Walpole, Hope Grant, Lugard, and all the other commanders of sections of the army, found an active watchfulness of the enemy necessary. One among Seaton’s engagements in the month of April may be briefly noticed. On the 6th, when evening had darkened into night, he marched from Futteghur to attack a body of rebels concerning whom he had received information. He took with him about 1400 men – comprising 600 of H.M. 82d under Colonel Hall, 400 Sikhs under Captain Stafford, 150 cavalry under Lieutenant St John, and 200 of the Futteghur mounted-police battalion under Lieutenant de Kantzow – together with five guns under Major Smith. After marching all night, Seaton came up with the enemy at seven in the morning, at a place called Kankur. The enemy’s force was very large, though not well organised, and included nearly a thousand troopers well mounted and armed. After an artillery-fire on both sides, and a sharp fire from Enfield rifles, the 82d rushed forward, entered the village, and worked terrible execution. The rebels fled, abandoning their camp, ammunition, and stores; together with papers and correspondence which threw light on some of the hitherto obscure proceedings of the mutineers. The rebel Rajah of Minpooree was the chief leader of the insurgents, and with him were Ismael Khan and Mohson Ali Khan.

The Minpooree district was much troubled by this rebellious rajah; but as Futteghur on the one side, and Agra on the other, were now in English hands, the rebels were more readily kept in subjection. Agra itself was safe, and so was the main line of road thence through Muttra to Delhi.

One of the few pleasant scenes of the month, at Delhi, was the awarding of honour and profit to a native who had befriended Europeans in the hour of greatest need. Ten months before, when mutiny was still new and terrible, the native troops at Bhurtpore rose in revolt, and compelled the Europeans in the neighbourhood to flee for their lives. The poor fugitives, thirty-two in number – chiefly women and children – roamed from place to place, uncertain where they might sleep in peace. On one day they arrived at the village of Mahonah. Here they met with one Hidayut Ali, a ressaldar (troop-captain), of a regiment of irregular cavalry which had mutinied at Mozuffernugger; he was on furlough or leave of absence at his native village, and did not join his mutinous companions. He received the fugitives with kindness and courtesy, fed them liberally, gave them a comfortable house, renewed their toil-worn garments, posted village sentries to give notice of the approach of any mutineers, disregarded a rebuke sent to him by the insurgents at Delhi, formed the villagers into an escort, and finally placed the thirty-two fugitives in a position which enabled them safely to reach Agra. This noble conduct was not forgotten. In April the commissioner held a grand durbar at Delhi, made a complimentary speech to Hidayut Ali, presented him with a sword valued at a thousand rupees, and announced that the government intended to bestow upon him the jaghire or revenues of his native village.

Good-fortune continued to mark the wide and important region of the Punjaub, in the absence of any of those great assemblages of rebels which so distracted the provinces further to the southeast. Nevertheless Sir John Lawrence found a demand on him for unceasing watchfulness. The longer the struggle continued in Hindostan and Central India, the more danger was there that the Punjaubees, imbibing an idea that the British were weak, would encourage a hope of regaining national independence. There was also a grave question involved in the constitution of the native army. When the troubles began in the month of May, and when Canning was beset with so many difficulties in his attempt to send up troops from Calcutta, John Lawrence came to the rescue in a manner deserving the lasting gratitude of all concerned in the maintenance of British rule in India. He felt a trusty reliance that the inhabitants of the Punjaub, governed as he (aided by Montgomery, Cotton, Edwardes, and other energetic men) had governed them, would remain faithful, and would be willing to accept active service as soldiers in British pay. His trust was well founded. He sent to Delhi those troops, without which the conquest of the city could not have been effected; and he continued to raise regiment after regiment of Sikhs and Punjaubees – equipping, drilling, and paying a number so large as to constitute in itself a powerful army. But there would necessarily be a limit to this process. The Sikhs were faithful so far; but what if they should begin to feel their power, and turn to a national object the arms which had been given to them to fight in the British cause? Not many years had elapsed since they had fought fiercely at Moultan and Lahore, Sobraon and Chillianwalla, Moodkee and Ferozshah, against those very English whom they were now defending; and it was at least possible, if not probable, that dreams of reconquest might occupy their thoughts. Sir John Lawrence brought to an end his further raising of regiments; and there can be little doubt that the governor-general and the commander-in-chief appreciated the motives by which he had been influenced. In political affairs the Punjaub was very active; for not only did Lawrence become chief authority over a larger region than before, but many of his assistants were taken away from him. When Sir James Outram went to Calcutta as a member of the supreme council, Mr Montgomery was appointed chief-commissioner of Oude, and took with him many of the most experienced civilians from Lahore to Lucknow. This necessitated great changes in the personnel of the Punjaub civil service, the commissionerships and sub-commissionerships of districts, &c.

Peshawur, the most remote portion of Northwest India, was throughout the period of the Revolt more troubled by marauding mountaineers than by revolted sepoys. Very few Hindoos inhabited that region; the population was mostly Mussulman, especially among the hills; and these followers of Islam had but little sympathy with those in Hindostan Proper. The disturbances, such as they were, were of local character. In April, it became necessary to visit with some severity certain tribes which throughout the winter had been engaged in rebellion and rapine. General Cotton and Colonel Edwardes, two of the most trusted officers in the Indian army, collected a column at Nowsherah for service against the hill-men; and at the close of the month there were nearly four thousand men in rendezvous, ready for service. It comprised detachments of H.M. 81st and 98th foot; of the 8th, 9th, and 18th Punjaub infantry; of other native infantry; of the 7th and 18th irregular cavalry; of the Guide cavalry; and of various artillery and engineer corps. On the 28th of the month, Cotton was at a place among the hills called Mungultana, a stronghold of some of the frontier fanatics. The place was easily taken, and the insurgents dispersed; as they were at Jelemkhana, Sitana, and other places, soon afterwards; but it was hard work for the troops, over very bad roadless tracks in hot weather.

It was a strange but hopeful sign that, amid all the sanguinary proceedings in India – the ruthless barbarities of some among the sepoys and rebels, and the military retributions wrought by the British – amid all this, the peaceful, civilising agency of railways was steadily though slowly advancing. A recent chapter shewed that the grand trunk-railway was extended into the Doab, the very hot-bed of insurrection, during the month of March: the engineers, mechanics, and labourers having been accustomed to resume their operations as soon as the insurgents were driven away from any spot where the works were in progress. In the Madras and Bombay presidencies, little affected by rebellion, various railways were gradually advancing; and now, in the month of April, the province of Sinde was to have its heyday of railway rejoicing. In an earlier portion of the volume,[158 - Chap. vii., Notes, p. 119 (#x_21_i33).] a brief account was given of the schemes, present and prospective, for supplying India with railways. Among those was one for a line, 120 miles in length, from Kurachee to Hydrabad in Sinde: expected, if no difficulties intervened, to be finished towards the close of 1859. This was to be one link in a vast and extensive chain, if the hopes of its projectors were ever realised. Kurachee is not at the mouth of the Indus; but it has an excellent harbour, in which large merchantmen can cast anchor; and engineers were enabled to shew that a little over one hundred miles of railway would connect this port with the Indus at a point above the delta of that river, and just where Hydrabad, the chief city of Sinde, is situated. Such a railway would, in fact, bear a remarkably close analogy to that in Egypt, from Alexandria to Cairo – each connecting a seaport with a capital, and avoiding delta navigation much impeded by shallows and shifting sands. From Hydrabad there are 570 miles of Indus available for river-steaming up to Moultan, in the Punjaub. From that city a railway would be planned through Lahore to Umritsir, where a junction would be formed with the grand trunk-line, and thus Kurachee connected with Calcutta by rapid means of travel – a great scheme, worthy of the age and the country. It could, however, only have small beginnings. On the 29th of April, the first sod of the ‘Sinde Railway’ was turned at Kurachee. It would be well if all rejoicings were based on such rational grounds as those which marked that day in the young Alexandria of Western India. Mr Frere, commissioner of Sinde, presided over the ceremonies. All was gaiety. The 51st regiment lent its aid in military pomp; and all the notabilities of the place – political, military, naval, clerical, commercial, and engineering – were gathered together. And not only so; but the lookers-on comprised many of those who well marvelled what a railway could be, and how a carriage could move without visible means of draught or propulsion – Parsees, Hindoos, Beloochees, Sindians, Afghans, Punjaubees – all were there, with their picturesque garments, and their little less picturesque native vehicles. How the officiating dignitary turned the sod and wheeled the barrow; how the band played and the people cheered; how the chief personages celebrated the event by a dinner; how, at that dinner, a triumphant specimen of confectionary was displayed, comprising sweetmeat Kurachees, Calcuttas, rivers, mosques, ghats, temples, wheelbarrows, pick-axes, rails, locomotives, bridges, tunnels – need not be told: they belong to one remarkable aspect of modern European and American society, which becomes doubly interesting when exhibited among the less active, more sensuous orientals.

We now turn to that stormy, unsettled region southwest of the Jumna, comprising Bundelcund, Central India, and Rajpootana.

Probably no commander had a series of more uninterrupted successes during the wars of the mutiny than Sir Hugh Rose. Looking neither to Calcutta nor to the Punjaub, for aid, but relying on the resources of the Bombay presidency, he gradually accumulated a force for service in Central India which defeated the rebels wherever they were met with. We have seen that, in January, Sir Hugh was busily engaged in defeating and dispersing rebels at Ratgurh, and in various parts of the district between Bhopal and Saugor. We find him in February relieving the British garrison which had for so many months been shut up within the fort of the last-named city, and then clearing a vast range of country in the direction of Jhansi. Lastly, we have seen how, after subduing a district in which rebellious Mahrattas were very numerous, he approached nearer and nearer to Jhansi during the early weeks of March; that he arrived within a short distance of that city on the 21st of that month, with the second brigade of the Central India field-force; that the rebels fortified the walls of the town, and shut themselves up within the town and fort; that the mutinied sepoys and rebel Bundelas in the place were computed at eleven or twelve thousand; that the Ranee of Jhansi had left her palace to seek greater safety in the fort; that Rose’s first brigade joined him on the 25th; and that he then commenced the siege in a determined manner. From this point, the narrative of Sir Hugh’s operations may be carried into the following month.

Before the first week in April had terminated, this distinguished general had gained very considerable advantages over the enemy. At daybreak on the first of the month, his force encountered an army of the enemy outside the walls of Jhansi, and completely defeated them. The rebels were commanded by a Mahratta chieftain, Tanteea Topee, a relative of Nena Sahib, who had marched thither in the hope of being able to relieve his brother rebels shut up within the beleaguered city. Sir Hugh divided his force into two parts – one to continue the siege, and the other to meet Tanteea Topee in the field. The rebels, including among their number two regiments of the traitorous Gwalior Contingent, fought desperately; but Rose succeeded in turning their left flank with artillery and cavalry, breaking up their array, and putting them to flight. It was a severe contest, for the rebels defended themselves individually to the last, even when their order of battle was broken. Rose pursued them to the river Betwah, and captured all their guns and ammunition. During the pursuit, they endeavoured to check him by setting the jungle on fire; but his cavalry and horse-artillery, nothing daunted, galloped through the flames, and kept close at the heels of the fugitives. The whole line of retreat became strewed with dead bodies; and it was estimated that the day’s sanguinary work had cost the enemy not less than fifteen hundred men.

This battle was followed by a result more favourable than Sir Hugh had ventured to hope. The ranee, shut up within Jhansi, well knew that Tanteea Topee was hastening to her assistance; for there was everywhere an intercommunication between the insurgents too close for the British to baffle. She knew of his approach, and hoped that he would be able to defeat and drive away the besiegers; but the battle of the Betwah dismayed her, and the result was very favourable to the British. In arranging for the siege, Sir Hugh divided his infantry into four detachments, two on the right and two on the left. H.M. 86th, and the 25th Bombay infantry, soon gained the walls, some by breach and others by escalade. Lieutenant Dartnell of the 86th, who was foremost in the assault, narrowly escaped being cut to pieces directly he entered the place. These two regiments were on the left attack. The attack on the right was less successful, owing to the use of defective ladders; the troops were for some time exposed to a murderous fire; but at length they entered the place, and joined their companions near the ranee’s palace. A discovery was now made. The ranee had evacuated the place during the night, with such of her troops as could break through the cordon which Rose endeavoured to draw round Jhansi. In the endeavour of the garrison to escape, the slaughter was terrible; insomuch that, during the storming of the fort and the pursuit of the garrison, more than three thousand of the rebels were laid low, besides the fifteen hundred during the battle. Much of this slaughter was within the city itself; for the towns-people were believed to have favoured the rebels, and the soldiers took severe vengeance before their officers could check the bloodshed. All this stern fighting could not be carried on without loss on the part of the British. Sir Hugh had to lament the fall of Lieutenant-colonel Turnbull, Captain Sinclair, Lieutenants Meicklejohn and Park, and Dr Stack, besides a number of non-commissioned officers and privates. The evacuation of the place in so sudden a way greatly lessened his chance of loss, for its defence might have been long continued. ‘Jhansi,’ he said in his telegraphic dispatch, ‘is not a fort, but its strength makes it a fortress; it could not have been breached; it could only have been taken by mining and blowing up one bastion after another.’

After this signal defeat of the rebels at Jhansi, the victorious army of Sir Hugh gradually prepared to move towards Calpee, a town on the Jumna, on the line of road from Jhansi to Cawnpore. Symptoms appeared to shew that a struggle would take place at this spot. Two rebel leaders made renewed exertions to regain lost ground in that region. The chief of these was Tanteea Topee, lately defeated at Jhansi; he had with him two mutinied infantry regiments, seven hundred cavalry, a large following of Ghazees or fanatics, and twelve guns. The other was Ram Rao Gobind, who had the command of three thousand rabble and four guns. These two leaders resolved to act on some common plan; and Sir Hugh Rose equally resolved to defeat them. Nevertheless this gallant officer had much need for careful planning long after he was master of Jhansi. He had a large number of sick and wounded, whose safety it would be necessary to provide for; and the roads around that city were still infested with remnants of the Kotah rebels and the Chanderee garrison. He himself remained at Jhansi until such time as he could resume his march without danger to those left behind; but he gave active employment to portions of his force. About the middle of the month he sent Major Orr with a column from Jhansi across the Betwah to Mhow, to clear that part of the country of rebels, and afterwards to join Rose and the main body of the force on the road to Calpee; the major had many small encounters with the rajahs of Bampore and Shagurh, and with detached parties of rebels. Some days afterwards, on the 21st, Sir Hugh despatched Major Gall, with detachments of cavalry and artillery, to a point on the Calpee road, to watch the enemy and aid Major Orr if necessary. Gall, besides other minor engagements, captured a fort belonging to the Rajah of Sumpter; the rebels in it proved to be disguised mutineers of the 12th Bengal native infantry, who fought desperately until all were killed. Sir Hugh, with his first brigade and head-quarters, did not take his departure from Jhansi until the 25th. He marched ten miles that day to Boregaum, on the Calpee road, and resumed his progress on subsequent days. His second brigade was soon to follow him – with the exception of detachments of the 3d Bombay Europeans, the 24th Bombay native infantry, and artillery, left under the charge of Colonel Liddell to protect Jhansi and the sick and wounded. Rumours reached Sir Hugh that four of the rebel leaders – the Ranee of Jhansi, Tanteea Topee, the Rajah of Shagurh, and the Rajah of Bampore – with seven thousand men and four guns, intended if possible to intercept him, and prevent his march to Calpee. To what result all these manœuvres on both sides led, was left to the month of May to determine.

While these operations were going on in and near the Jhansi district, General Whitlock, with a column of Madras troops, was engaged a little further eastward, in a district of Bundelcund having Banda for its chief town. He was frequently in contact with large or small bodies of rebels. One of these struggles took place on the 19th of April, when he encountered a force of seven thousand insurgents headed by the Nawab of Banda. Whitlock defeated the Nawab, captured Banda, killed five hundred of the enemy, and took several guns. After this victory, he gradually worked his way towards Calpee, to aid in Rose’s operations.

The city of Saugor remained in a somewhat peculiar condition during the spring months – secure itself, but surrounded by a disturbed district. The European residents were living in cantonments, sufficiently protected by troops left there by General Whitlock after he relieved the place early in February. These troops were neither stationary nor idle; the vicinity was swarming with rebels and malcontents, whom it was necessary to check by frequent pursuit and defeat. Those two exceptions to the generally mutinous condition of the Bengal native army, the 31st and 42d regiments, still remained in and near Saugor – or such portions of them as had not become tainted by insubordination. Divided into small detachments, they assisted the European and Madras troops in keeping open the line of communication between Saugor and the district marked by the victorious operations of Sir Hugh Rose.

Turning to the Mahratta and Rajpootana states, we find that, on the 2d of April, a large body of rebels, many thousands in number, with ten guns, crossed the Parbuttee river at Copoind into Scindia’s Gwalior territory. They were fleeing from Kotah, where a British force had severely handled them. Scindia still remained true to his alliance. Many of his officers, each with a small force, opposed the rebels at different points, drove them back across the river, and overturned many of their guns and wagons in the stream. The rebels, accompanied by large numbers of women and children, made their way by other routes towards Bundelcund.

Kotah, just mentioned, was closely connected with the insurgent and military operations in Rajpootana. It will be remembered[159 - Chap. xxvi., p. 441.] that in the month of March General Roberts, commanding the Rajpootana field-force, marched from Nuseerabad towards Kotah, accompanied by Richard Lawrence as political representative; that many difficulties had to be surmounted on the march; that Kotah was reached on the 22d; and that Roberts captured that place just before the end of the month, defeating a large body of rebels, and obtaining possession of an extensive store of ordnance and ammunition. After this victory, Roberts remained a long time at Kotah. Many other places would have welcomed his appearance; but there were doubts how far Kotah could safely be left, seeing that the neighbourhood was in a very disaffected state. The Kotah rebels, on the other hand, were greatly disconcerted at the news of the fall of Jhansi, which interfered with their plans and hopes. They had been camping for a while at Kularus, on the road from Gwalior to Bombay, but began now to move off towards the south. Captain Mayne, with some of Scindia’s troops, was at that place on the 11th of April, and found that the Kotah rebels, about four thousand strong, with six guns, had joined the rebel Rajah of Nirwur, six miles distant. Captain Mayne was preparing to watch and follow them, but the troops at his command consisted of only a few hundred men, and he could do little more than reconnoitre. Later in the month, General Roberts organised a column to look after the rebels at Goonah, Chupra, and other places. The column consisted of H.M. 95th foot, the 10th Bombay native infantry, a wing of the 8th hussars, a wing of the 1st lancers, and a troop of horse-artillery; and it started from Kotah for active service on the 24th. Thus the month of April passed away; Roberts himself remaining at Kotah; while some of his officers, each with a detachment of the Rajpootana field-force, were engaged in chastising bodies of rebels in the turbulent region on the border of the Rajpoot and Mahratta territories. Like Sir Hugh Rose at Jhansi, he had to consider how his conquered city would fare if he quitted it.

The province of Gujerat, lying as it does between Rajpootana and Bombay, was narrowly watched by the government of that presidency; and as one precaution, all the inhabitants were disarmed. On the 8th of April, a field-force, comprising about a thousand men of all arms, left Ahmedabad to conduct the disarming. Another column of about the same strength was preparing to march from the same station about a week later. It was expected that the difficulties of the troops would arise, not so much from the opposition of the natives, as from the gradually increasing heat of the weather.

Southward of Bombay there was still, as in the earlier months of the year, just so much of insubordination as to need careful watching on the part of the government, but without presenting any very alarming symptoms. The small Mahratta state of Satara was a little troubled. Two officers of the recently deposed rajah, his commander-in-chief and his commandant of artillery, were detected in treasonable correspondence with Nena Sahib. One of them, having been found guilty, was sentenced to be hanged; the indignity struck with horror one imbued with high-caste notions, and he asked to be blown away from a gun as a more noble death; this was refused; and under the influence of dismay and grief, he made a confession which afforded a clue to a further conspiracy. There was much in these southern Mahrattas which puzzled the authorities. To what extent the natives were bound into a brotherhood by secret compact, the English never could and never did know. Much comment was excited by an occurrence at Kolapore, where two native officers were blown away from guns, on conviction of being concerned in the mutiny and rebellion. It was remembered that those very men had sat on courts-martial which condemned numbers of their fellow-mutineers to the same punishment which was their own ultimate doom. One of the principal witnesses against them was a colleague whom they had sentenced to death, but who escaped by making a confession which implicated them. Many others, however, condemned by the court of which these two men were members, died without making a similar confession, although it was believed that they also might have implicated their judges.

Note

Native Police of India.– So peculiar was the position of the native police of India – as a medium between the military and the civilians, and between the government and the people – that it may be desirable to say a few words on the organisation of that body. All parties agreed that this organisation was defective in many points, and numerous reforms were suggested; but the Revolt found the police system still in force unreformed. The information here given is obtained chiefly from a dispatch sent from the India House about six months before the Revolt began, at a time when few or none saw the dark shadow that was hovering over our eastern empire.

In Bengal, each district was subdivided into smaller jurisdictions, each having its local police. The police were charged with duties both preventive and detective. They were prohibited from inquiring into cases of a petty nature; but complaints in cases of a more serious character were usually laid before the police darogah– whose duties were something more than those of an English police superintendent, something less than those of an English magistrate. The darogah was authorised to examine the complaints brought before him, to issue process of arrest, to summon witnesses, to examine the accused, and to forward the case to the magistrate or collector-magistrate, or submit a report of his proceedings, according as the evidence seemed to warrant the one or the other course.

In the Northwest Provinces the native revenue-officers called tehsildars were, at the discretion of the government, invested with the powers of police darogahs; whereas in Bengal the revenue service was kept wholly distinct from the police or magisterial.

In the Madras presidency, the duties ordinarily performed in Bengal by the police darogahs were, even more generally than in the Northwest Provinces, performed by the tehsildar; indeed it was a recognised part of the system that the tehsildar and the darogah were the same person. This double function carried with it an increase of power. The Madras tehsildar-darogah was authorised, not only to inquire into petty cases (which the Bengal darogah was prohibited from doing), but also to proceed in certain specified instances to judgment, sentence, and the infliction of punishment.

In the Bombay presidency, the revenue and police functions were, until a recent period, combined in the same way as in Madras. The tehsildars, besides their revenue duties, were authorised in their police capacity to investigate all complaints of a criminal nature, and to exercise a penal jurisdiction in respect of certain petty offences. Within a few months before the Revolt, however, a change was made in the organisation. A new officer, a superintendent of police, was placed under the magistrate. The magistrate, confining himself for the most part to judicial and administrative matters, left to his superintendent of police the control of the executive police and the command of the entire stipendiary body, with the initiative in the prevention and detection of crime. To aid this superintendent in the supervision of the district police, there was placed in each police division an officer called joint-police amildar; whose duties, in regard to the preservation of the public peace and the investigation of serious crimes, were nearly similar to those of the Bengal darogah, but without including any power of punishing even for the most trivial offences.

It thus appears that, apart from the penal powers exercised by the Madras district police, the Bengal darogah, the Madras tehsildar, and the Bombay amildar, all acted to a certain extent judicially when engaged in investigating crimes of a serious nature. They examined the parties and the evidence, and they formed a judgment on the case to the extent of deciding whether it was one for the immediate arrest of the accused and transmission to the magistrate, or otherwise.

No doubt the founders of this police system anticipated beneficial results from it; but those results were not obtained. It was very inefficient for the detection of crime, and almost useless for prevention. There were defects both in organisation and in procedure. The police force attached to each division was too much localised and isolated; and the notion of combination between any separate parts of it, with a view of accomplishing extensive police objects, was seldom entertained. Although unable to check crime to the extent intended and hoped for, the police were very unscrupulous in their mode of wielding their authority, and bore a very general character for oppression and corruption. The great source of mischief was found to be, the want of efficient control and overlooking. The native police had a proneness to oriental modes of administering justice, in which bribery and barbarity perform a great part: this tendency required to be constantly checked by Europeans; and if the magistrate or collector-magistrate found his time too fully occupied to exercise this supervision, the police wrought much mischief, and brought the English ‘raj’ into disfavour. Where the district was smaller than usual, or where the magistrate was more than commonly zealous and active, the police were found to be more efficient through more supervision. Whenever it was found necessary to grapple effectually with any particular crimes, such as thuggee or dacoitee, the ordinary police proved to be wholly useless; an entirely separate instrumentality was needed. Besides the want of effective supervision, the native police were underpaid, and had therefore an excuse for listening to the temptations of bribery.

In the dispatch already adverted to, written by the Court of Directors, a course of improvement was pointed out, without which the native police, it was affirmed, could not rise to the proper degree of efficiency. The suggestions were briefly as follows: To separate the police from the administration of the land-revenue, in those provinces where those duties had been customarily united; in order that the native officer should not be intrusted with double functions, each of which would interfere with the other. To subject all the police to frequent visit and inspection, that they might feel the influence of a vigilant eye over them. To relieve the collector-magistrate from this addition to his many duties, by appointing in each district a European officer with no other duty than that of managing the police of the district, subject to a general superintendent of police for each presidency. To increase the salaries of the police, in order that the office might have a higher dignity in the estimation of the natives, and in order that the official might be less tempted to extortion or bribery. To empower the authorities to punish and degrade, more readily than was before possible, those police who oppressed the people or otherwise displayed injustice; and to reward those who displayed more than ordinary intelligence and honesty, a further suggestion was made, arising out of the organisation of the Punjaub under the Lawrences and their coadjutors; in which there was a preventive police with a military organisation, and a wholly distinct detective police with a civil organisation. This system was found to work so well, that the Court of Directors submitted to the Calcutta government an inquiry whether the police generally might not with advantage be thus separated into two parts, preventive and detective, each exercised by a different set of men.

The Revolt broke out before the reform of the police system could commence; and then, like other reforms, it was left to be settled in more peaceful days.

CHAPTER XXIX.

PROGRESS OF EVENTS IN MAY

When, on the 10th of May 1858, the course of twelve months had been completed since the commencement of the mutiny, the nation looked back at the events of that period as a terrible episode in the history of British dominion. Into how many thousands of families mourning had been introduced by it, no one correctly knew; the problem was a dismal one, which few had the heart to investigate. Those who, not affected by private grief, or hiding their grief in a sense of public duty, viewed the twelvemonth’s conflict in a national sense, saw in it a mingled cause for humiliation and pride – humiliation that British rule should be so trampled on by those who had been long and peacefully under it; pride that so many public servants, so many private persons, should have proved worthy of their country in a time of severe and bitter trial. In military matters, the once great Bengal native army had almost ceased to exist. Twenty thousand disarmed sepoys were in and near the Punjaub, carefully watched lest they should join the ranks of the insurgents; disarmed regiments were similarly detained elsewhere; others had been almost annihilated by twelve months of fierce warfare; others were still engaged as the nuclei of rebel armies; while the number of Bengal sepoys was very small indeed, reckoned by hundreds rather than thousands, who still fought faithfully on the side of the British. The Madras and Bombay troops had, happily for India and England’s interest therein, remained almost wholly ‘true to their salt;’ enabling the governors of those two presidencies to send gallant field-forces into the disturbed northern and central provinces. Sikhs, Punjaubees, Moultanese, Scindians, Beloochees, and hill-men on the Afghan frontier, had rendered services of such lasting importance in Hindostan, that they may almost be regarded as the preservers of the English ‘raj;’ this they had been enabled to do from two causes – the want of sympathy between the mutineers and those northwestern tribes; and the admirable system of Punjaub government organised by the Lawrences. In civil matters, India had witnessed the almost total breaking up of the ordinary revenue and magisterial arrangements, in provinces containing at least fifty millions of souls; Europeans driven into hiding-places, even if not murdered; and treasuries plundered by bands of ruffians, who gladly hailed the state of anarchy brought on by the mutiny of the sepoy regiments. Among the superior members of the government, Viscount Canning still maintained his position, battling against unnumbered difficulties; Sir Colin Campbell still remained at the head of the army, well aware that his utmost skill as a military commander would long be needed; and Sir John Lawrence still held the Punjaub in his wonderful grasp, displaying governing powers of the very highest order at an eminently critical time. On the other hand, the Anglo-Indians had to mourn over a sad death-list. Henry Lawrence, Havelock, Colvin, Neill, Venables, Nicholson, William Peel, Adrian Hope, Wheeler, Barnard, Banks, Battye – all, and a vast many more gallant spirits, had sunk under the terrible pressure of the past twelve months.

Appropriating the present chapter to a rapid glance at the progress of events in the month of May, and beginning (as usual) with the Bengal regions, we may conveniently notice two or three arrangements made by the Calcutta government, bearing relation either to the state of the army, or to the condition of civilians affected by the mutiny.

Among the earliest measures taken to reconstruct the Bengal army, so shattered by the mutiny, was one announced in a government notification on the 7th of May. It was to the effect that four regiments of Bengal European cavalry should be formed, in lieu of eight regiments of Bengal native cavalry, erased from the list of the establishment for mutinous conduct. Each regiment was to consist of 1 colonel, 2 lieutenant-colonels, 2 majors, 14 captains, 18 lieutenants, 8 cornets, 1 adjutant, 1 interpreter and quartermaster, 4 surgeons and assistants, 119 non-commissioned and subordinate officers of various kinds, and 700 privates; making a total of 870 – an unusually large number for a cavalry regiment. In addition to these, there were to be native syces, grass-cutters, and quarter-masters, attached to each regiment; and various persons employed at the depôt. The pay was to be the same as in the royal dragoon regiments. Each regiment was to be divided into ten troops. As the officers were to be about doubly as numerous as the English officers in the disbanded native regiments, it was calculated that the four new would absorb the officers of eight old regiments. The regiments thus extinguished by this first process, were the 1st, 2d, 3d, 4th, 6th, 7th, 9th, and 10th Bengal native cavalry; the 5th and the 8th were left to be dealt with at some subsequent period. As for any larger measures connected with the reconstruction of a native Bengal army, these were left for determination at a later period, after collating the opinions of the most experienced authorities in India.

The distress experienced by the British troops from the intense heat of the Indian sun, and the severe strictures passed by the press and by members of the legislature on those regimental officers who permitted or compelled their soldiers to swelter in red cloth, led to the issuing of orders concerning light summer clothing. It was found that a kind of gray or dust-coloured linen called khakee or carkey was better suited than anything else – even white – as a material for clothing in the hot season; and hence the issuing of an order by the adjutant-general, on the 21st of May, to the effect noted below.[160 - ‘With the concurrence of the government, the commander-in-chief is pleased to direct that white clothing shall be discontinued in the European regiments of the Honourable Company’s army; and that for the future the summer-clothing of the European soldiers shall consist of two suits of “khakee,” corresponding in pattern and material with the clothing recently sanctioned for the royal army of England. Corps are to be permitted to wear out serviceable summer-clothing of the old pattern now in use; but in regiments in which this clothing requires to be renewed, the new pattern now established is to be introduced without delay. Commanding officers will take steps to obtain patterns from regiments of her Majesty’s service. A complete suit, including cap-cover, should not exceed in cost 4-12 rupees. The summer-clothing now authorised will be supplied from the clothing agency of the presidency to all recruits of the Company’s service arriving at Calcutta between 1st February and 1st October, to be issued with the least possible delay after arrival of the recruits.’] This question concerning appropriate clothing had long been discussed by military men in India: the officers of greatest experience being those who most disapproved the wearing of closely fitting garments in such a climate. General Jacob had resolutely contended against the adoption of English uniforms by the sepoys of the Company’s army. He said: ‘A sepoy of the line, dressed in a tight coat; trousers in which he can scarcely walk, and cannot stoop at all; bound to an immense and totally useless knapsack, so that he can scarcely breathe; strapped, belted, and pipe-clayed within an inch of his life; with a rigid basket-shako on his head, which requires the skill of a juggler to balance, and which cuts deep into his brow if worn for an hour; and with a leather-stock round his neck, to complete his absurd costume – when compared with the same sepoy, clothed, armed, and accoutred solely with regard to his comfort and efficiency – forms the most perfect example of what is madly called the “regular” system with many European officers, contrasted with the system of common sense now recommended for adoption.’ The graphic description by Mr Russell, of the officers and men in Sir Colin Campbell’s army of Oude, shews how eager soldiers are to get rid of their irksome uniforms when permitted, under the influence of a heat denoted by the cabalistic mark 100° F. or 110° F.: ‘Except the Highlanders – and when they left Lucknow they were panting for their summer clothes, and had sent officers to Cawnpore to hurry them – not a corps that I have seen sport a morsel of pink or shew a fragment of English scarlet. The Highlanders wear eccentric shades of gray linen over their bonnets – the kilt is discarded, or worn out in some regiments; and flies, mosquitoes, and the sun are fast rendering it impossible in the others. Already many officers who can get trews have discarded the ponderous folds of woollen stuff tucked into massive wads over the hips, and have provided some defence against the baking of their calves by day, and have sought to protect their persons against the assaults of innumerable entomological enemies by night. The artillery had been furnished with excellent head-covers and good frocks of light stuff… The 7th Hussars, the Military Train, have vestiary idiosyncrasies of their own; but there is some sort of uniformity among the men. Among the officers, individual taste and fantasy have full play. The infantry regiments, for the most part, are dressed in linen frocks, dyed carkey or gray slate-colour – slate-blue trousers, and shakos protected by puggerees, or linen covers, from the sun. The peculiarity of carkey is that the dyer seems to be unable to match it in any two pieces, and that it exhibits endless varieties of shade, varying with every washing, so that the effect is rather various than pleasing on the march or on the parade-ground. But the officers, as I have said, do not confine themselves to carkey or anything else. It is really wonderful what fecundity of invention in dress there is, after all, in the British mind when its talents can be properly developed. To begin with the head-dress. The favourite wear is a helmet of varying shape, but of uniform ugliness… Whatever it might be in polished steel or burnished metal, the helmet is a decided failure in felt, or wicker-work, or pith, so far as external effect is concerned. It is variously fabricated, with many varieties of interior ducts and passages leading to escape-holes for imaginary hot air in the front or top, and around it are twisted infinite colours and forms of turbans with fringed ends and laced fringes. When a peacock’s feather, with the iris end displayed, is inserted in the hole in the top of the helmet, or is stuck in the puggeree around it, the effect of the covering is much enhanced; and this style is rather patronised by some of the staff. The coat may be of any cut or material, but shooting-jackets hold their own in the highest posts; and a carkey-coloured jerkin, with a few inches of iron curb-chain sewed on the shoulders to resist sabre-cuts, is a general favourite… As to the clothing of the nether man, nothing but a series of photographs could give the least notion of the numerous combinations which can be made out of a leg, leather, pantaloons, and small-clothes. Long stage-boots of buff-coloured leather – for the manufacture of which Cawnpore is famous – pulled up over knee-breeches of leather or regimental trousers, are common. There are officers who prefer wearing their Wellingtons outside their pantaloons, thus exhibiting tops of very bright colours; and the boot and baggy trousers of the Zouave officer are not unknown.’

The next point to be adverted to affected civilians and private traders more extensively than the military. The compensation to sufferers by the mutiny, a much-disputed question for nearly twelve months, was put into a train for settlement by a government order issued at Calcutta in May. This order applied to Bengal only, as being a region quite large enough to be brought within one set of official rules. The compensation was to be for loss of property and effects, leaving losses affecting life or health to be settled by a distinct machinery. A Mr E. Jackson was appointed at Calcutta as commissioner to inquire into claims for compensation. A limit was named, the 26th of August, after which no claims would be received from persons resident in India: an extension of time being allowed for those who were not in that country. In cases where the amount claimed did not exceed fifty thousand rupees, the application to the commissioner was to be accompanied by a detailed statement of the particulars of the claim, and of the evidence adducible in support of it; but where the property was of higher amount, the regulation required only a general estimate to accompany the application, a further period of three months being allowed for the preparation and submission of the detailed statement of losses. It was at the same time very pointedly mentioned that these preliminary operations did not constitute an actual claim on the Company for any compensation whatever. ‘It is to be understood that the registry of applications above provided for does not imply any recognition of claims to compensation; the Honourable Court of Directors having expressly reserved their final decision upon the question, whether or not compensation for losses sustained by the mutiny shall be awarded.’ The Company probably deemed it wise, in the uncertainty how large might be the total aggregate sum claimed, to avoid any formal pledge that these compensations could be rightfully demanded and would be really paid. The above, we have said, applied to Bengal; but about the same time a similar notification appeared at Allahabad, applicable to the Northwest Provinces. Mr C. Grant and Mr E. H. Longden were named commissioners to record and register claims. The conditions were generally the same as those in Bengal; and to them was added an announcement that ‘Applications will be received, subject to the same rules, from natives of the country for compensation, on account of loss of property caused by their known loyalty and attachment to the British government.’ A similar announcement was afterwards made, extending the boon to the province of Oude.

Superadded to the arrangements made for the succour of those who had borne pecuniary loss by the mutiny, was one dated May 25th. This was to the effect that some provision would be made for the relief of the destitute families of persons who had died after the loss of their property, even though the death were not occasioned by the mutiny. It was thereupon determined that grants of money should be given to families rendered impoverished by this double calamity; the grants to be regulated on the same principle as those allowed to European and native officers of the government.

One of the resolutions arrived at by the authorities at Calcutta gave very general satisfaction – except to a few officers jealous of any encroachments on the privileges of the army. Whether suggested at home, or in India, the movement was in the right direction. The regulation was to the effect that civilians who had distinguished themselves in the field since the commencement of the mutiny, or who should so distinguish themselves before the mutiny ended, should be allowed to participate in the honours which had hitherto been considered peculiar to the military service. The civil servants of the Company, as a body, greatly raised themselves in the estimation of the nation by the gallantry which many of them displayed under circumstances of great peril – not only in defending their posts against large bodies of insurgents, but in sharing those field and siege operations which are more immediately sources of honour to military men. What those honours were to be, depended partly on the crown, partly on the Company; but the object of the order was to shew that the civil position of a gallant man should not necessarily be a bar to his occupancy of an honoured place among military men.

In entering now upon the military operations of the month, it is satisfactory to know that nothing important presents itself for record in connection with the eastern regions of Bengal. There were few or no actual mutinies, for reasons more than once assigned in former chapters. Notwithstanding this safety, however – partly through the superstitious character of the natives of India, and partly through the uneasy feeling prevailing in the minds of Europeans during the mutiny – the newspapers were frequently engaged in discussing mysteries, rumours, and prophecies of a strange character. One, connected more with Bengal than with the other provinces, related to ‘something white,’ which was to be ominous of British rule in India. Where it arose, or how, remained as undiscoverable as the chupatty mystery; but the rumour put on various forms at different times and places. At Tipperah, the native story told of a ‘white thing’ which would be unprocurable after some time. At Chittagong, a particular day was named, when, ‘out of four things, three would be given and one withheld;’ and at Jessore, the bazaar-people became so excited concerning a prophetic rumour of an equally enigmatical kind, that the magistrate endeavoured to elicit something from his police-darogah that might explain it; but the man either could not or would not tell how the story arose. In Dacca and other places the prediction assumed this form – that after a certain period, a certain ‘white thing’ would cease to exist in India; and in some instances the exact interval was named, ‘three months and thirteen days.’

Occasionally, the authorities found it necessary to watch very closely the proceedings of Mohammedan fanatics; who, at Burdwan, Jessore, Rungpoor, and other places, were detected in attempts to rouse up the people to a religious war. Fortunately, the townsmen and villagers did not respond to these appeals. Southwest of Calcutta, the Sumbhulpore district, disturbed occasionally by rebel bands intent on plunder, was kept for the most part tranquil by the firm management of Colonel Forster. In the month of May he hit upon the plan of inviting the still faithful chieftains of the districts to furnish each a certain number of soldiers to defend British interests, on promise of a due recognition of their services afterwards. The chieftains raised two thousand matchlockmen among them, and took up such positions as Colonel Forster indicated – a measure which completely frustrated and cowed the rebels.

We may pass at once to a consideration of the state of affairs in Behar or Western Bengal, comprising the districts around what may be called the Middle Ganges. This region, as former chapters have sufficiently told, and as a glance at a map will at once shew, contains many important cities and towns, which were thrown into great commotion by the mutiny – such as Patna, Dinapoor, Arrah, Buxar, Azimghur, Goruckpore, Ghazeepore, Jounpoor, Sasseram, Benares, Chunargur, and Mirzapore. It is true that many of these were formerly included within the government of the ‘Northwest Provinces,’ and then in that of the ‘Central Provinces;’ but this is a matter of little consequence to our present purpose; if we consider them all to belong to the Mid-Ganges region, it will suffice for the present purpose.

The condition of the region just defined, during May, depended mainly on the relation between Sir Edward Lugard on the one hand, and the Jugdispore rebels on the other. How it fared with this active general and the troops under his command, when April closed, we have already seen. It will be remembered that about the middle of that month, Koer Singh took up a strong position at Azimutgurh, from which Lugard deemed it necessary to dislodge him; that Lugard himself remained encamped at Azimghur with the bulk of his Azimghur field-force, in order that he might watch the proceedings of numerous bands of rebels under the Rajahs of Nuhurpoor and Naweejer and Gholam Hossein, hovering about the districts of Sandah, Mundoree, and Koelser; but that he made up a strong column to pursue Koer Singh. This column, placed under the command of Brigadier Douglas, consisted of the following troops: H.M. 4th foot; a wing of the 37th foot; a detachment of Punjaub Sappers; two squadrons of Sikh cavalry; a squadron of the Military Train; and nine guns and mortars. Then followed the series of cross-purposes, in which Koer Singh was permitted or enabled to work much more mischief than Sir Edward had anticipated. The events may briefly be recapitulated thus: On the 17th and 18th, Douglas, after starting with his column from Azimghur, came up with the rebels, defeated them at Azimutgurh, and chased them to Ghosee, Nugra, and Secunderpore. On the 19th he found that they intended to cross the Gogra before he could come up to them in pursuit – an intention which he strove to render nugatory. On the 20th he encountered them again, at Muneer Khas, defeated them with great slaughter, captured most of their munitions of war, and dispersed the rebels, the main body of whom fled towards Bullah and Beyriah. On the 21st, Douglas had the mortification, on reaching Sheopore, of finding that Koer Singh had outwitted the officer who had been ordered to guard the passage of the Ganges in the vicinity of Ghazeepore with about nine hundred men; the wily chief of Jugdispore had got in the rear of the detachment by a flank-movement, and had crossed the Ganges at an undefended spot. Then followed Captain Le Grand’s disastrous expedition to Jugdispore on the 23d; the crossing of the Ganges on the 25th by Douglas, with his column; and the advance towards Arrah and Jugdispore to retrieve the disaster. To what results these operations led in the month of May, we have now to see.

Brigadier Douglas arrived at Arrah with a part of his force on the 1st of May, the rest having arrived two days earlier; but Douglas not being in sufficient force to effectually encompass the enemy, and the importance of thoroughly routing Koer Singh being evident, Sir Edward Lugard, leaving a few troops to guard Azimghur, set out for the Ganges with his main column, crossed over into the Shahabad district on the 3d and following days, and prepared for operations in the direction of Arrah and Jugdispore. The rebels, estimated at seven or eight thousand, were supposed to be intrenching themselves, and getting in supplies. On the 8th, Sir Edward arrived in the vicinity of Jugdispore, and came in sight of some of the rebels. Two companies of the 84th foot, with detachments of Madras Rifles, and Sikh horse, aided by two horse-artillery guns, were sent back to Arrah, to protect that place while operations were being directed against Jugdispore. The commissioner of Patna at the same time sent the steamer Patna up the Ganges, to watch the ghâts or ferries. On the 9th, Sir Edward marched his force from Beheea to an open plain a little to the west of Jugdispore. Here he intended to encamp for a while, to allow Colonel Corfield to come up with some additional troops from Sasseram. Circumstances occurred, however, to change his plan. In the afternoon of this day a large body of rebels formed outside the jungle, and moved in the direction of Arrah; but these were quickly followed by cavalry and horse-artillery, and driven back into the jungle. Another body, much more numerous, began to fire into Sir Edward’s camp before he could get his baggage well up and tents fixed. This determined him to attack them at once. Dividing his force into three columns, he planned an assault on Jugdispore on three points at once. The place was carried after a little skirmishing, the rebels making only a slight resistance; they retired to Lutwarpore, in the jungle district, taking with them two guns which they had captured from the British in the preceding month. The loss on both sides was trifling. Leaving a strong party to retain Jugdispore, Lugard returned to his camp in the evening. According to the rumours prevalent, Koer Singh, who had so long been a source of annoyance to the British, had died of his wounds; and the rebels, under his brother Ummer Singh, were ill supplied and in much confusion. A nephew of Koer Singh, named Ritbhunghur Singh, gave himself up to the British a short time afterwards – hopeful of insuring forgiveness by being able to shew that, in earlier months, he had befriended certain Europeans in a time of great peril. On the 10th, after ordering all the fortifications at Jugdispore, and all the buildings which had belonged to Koer Singh, to be destroyed, Lugard prepared to follow the rebels into the jungle. He arranged that Colonel Corfield, with the Sasseram force, should approach Lutwarpore in one direction, while he himself intended to advance upon it from Jugdispore. On the 11th and 12th much fighting took place. Sir Edward took the rebels by surprise; they expected to be attacked from Arrah or Beheea, but he marched westward through a belt of jungle to Hettumpore, and attacked them on a side which they believed to be quite safe. Lugard and Corfield were everywhere successful. It was, however, a harassing kind of warfare, bringing more fatigue than glory; the rebels, though chastised everywhere, avoided a regular engagement, and retreated into the jungle after every partial skirmish. At Arrah, Jugdispore, Lutwarpore, Hettumpore, Beheea, Peroo, and Chitowra, Lugard defeated and cut them up at various times in the course of the month; yet he could not prevent them from recombining, and collecting around them a rabble of budmashes and jail-felons. Sir Edward hoped, at any rate, to be able so to employ a strong detachment of cavalry as to prevent the rebels from crossing the river Sone, and carrying anarchy into other districts. They nevertheless continued to harass the neighbourhood by freebooting expeditions, if not by formidable military projects. After Lugard’s defeat of the main force, some of the insurgents broke up into bands of a few hundreds each, and were joined by budmashes from the towns and revolted villages. One party attacked an indigo factory near Dumoran, and burned it to the ground; another effected a murderous outbreak at the village of Rajpore, near Buxar; another threatened the railway-bridge works at Karminassa. These mischievous proceedings naturally threw the whole district into agitation. The threat against the railway-works was fully carried out about the end of the month; for the devastators destroyed the engineers’ bungalows and the workmen’s sheds, set fire to all the wood and coal collected for brick-burning, destroyed everything they could easily lay their hands on, and effectually stopped the works for a time. Nothing could be done to quell these disturbances, until a British force appeared.

Practically, therefore, the ‘Azimghur field-force,’ under Sir Edward Lugard, succeeded in breaking down the military organisation of the rebels in that part of India, without being able to prevent the formation of roaming bands bent on slaughter and devastation. And even the limited amount of advantage gained was purchased at a high price; for the tremendous heat of the sun struck down the poor soldiers with fatal certainty; numbers of them were carried from Jugdispore to Arrah, towards the close of the month – prostrated by sickness, wounds, fatigue from jungle fighting, and sun-stroke.

Somewhat further to the north, in the Goruckpore district, another group of rebels continued to harass the country, disturbing the operations of peaceful planters and traders. About the end of May, the rebel leader Mahomed Hussein, with four thousand men, suddenly made an attack upon the Rajah of Bansee, one of those who had remained faithful to the British government. The rajah was obliged to flee to a stronghold in a neighbouring jungle; and then his palace, with the town of Bansee, were plundered by the rebels. Mr Wingfield, the commissioner of Goruckpore, immediately started forth with two hundred and fifty Europeans and some guns to the relief of the rajah, whom he found besieged in his stronghold. The enemy fled precipitately on hearing of Wingfield’s approach, notwithstanding the immense disparity of force. The energetic commissioner then proceeded with the rajah to attack some rebel villages; while a simultaneous advance was made on Amood by Colonel Rowcroft. The object of these demonstrations was to keep the rebels in check until the rains set in, and the waters of the Gogra rose. Towards the end of the month, four Europeans came into Goruckpore from a neighbouring station, where they had been suddenly attacked by a body of rabble under one Baboo Surdoun Singh, and other leaders. This was one among many evidences of a still disturbed condition of the Goruckpore district. The district was in a slight degree protected by the passage of a body of troops who, though retiring rather than fighting, exerted some kind of influence on the evildoer of the country. We speak of the Goorkhas of Jung Bahadoor’s Nepaulese contingent. These troops retreated slowly from Oude towards their own country, neither receiving nor giving satisfaction from their late share in the warlike operations. After a sojourn of some time at Goruckpore, they resumed their march on the 17th of May, proceeding by brigades, and consuming much time in arranging and dragging their enormous supply of vehicles. They crossed the river Gunduck at Bagaha, with much difficulty. A distance of about thirty miles then brought them to Bettiah, and fourteen more to Segowlie – very near the frontier of the British dominions. It was early in the following month when the Goorkhas finally reached their native country, Nepaul – their leader Jung Bahadoor being, though still faithful as an ally, somewhat dissatisfied by his failure in obtaining notable advantage from the governor-general in return for services rendered. Viscount Canning had, many months earlier, received fierce newspaper abuse for not having availed himself more promptly of aid offered by Jung Bahadoor; but there now appeared much probability that caution had been all along necessary in dealing with this ambitious chieftain.

Directing attention next to the region of the Jumna and the Upper Ganges, we have to notice the continuance of insubordination around the Allahabad region, almost in the very presence of the governor-general himself, who still remained, with his staff, in that station. One of the most vexing symptoms of mischief at this place was the occurrence of incendiarism – the burning of buildings by miscreants who could not be discovered. On the 24th of May a new range of barracks was found to be on fire, and six bungalows were completely destroyed. The prevalence of a fierce wind, and the scarcity of water, frustrated for some time all attempts to extinguish the flames. One poor invalid soldier was burned to death, and many others injured. Beyond the limits of the city itself, it was a state of things very unexpected by the supreme authorities, that the road from Allahabad through Futtehpoor to Cawnpore – a road more traversed than any other by British troops throughout twelve months of anarchy – should in the middle of May be scarcely passable without a strong escort. Yet such was the case. The opposition to the British raj, though it had assumed a guerrilla character, was very harassing to deal with. The British were strong in a few places; but the rebels were in numerous small bodies, scattered all over the surrounding country; and these bodies occasioned temporary panics at spots where there was no force to meet them. The thorough knowledge of the country, possessed by some of the leaders, enabled them to baffle the pursuers; and thus it arose that these petty bands occasioned alarms disproportionate to the number of men comprising them. Sometimes they would occupy the great trunk-road, between Allahabad and Cawnpore, and close up all means of transit unless attacked and driven away by force. On the other hand, this district exhibited a remarkable union of the new with the old, the European with the oriental, the practical with the primitive – arising out of the opening of a railway through a part of the route. After reading, as we so often have in this volume, of toilsome marches by sunburnt and exhausted troops over rough roads and through jungle-thickets, it is with a peculiar feeling of interest that we find an announcement to the effect, that ‘on the 26th of May a special train left Allahabad with a party of Sikhs to reinforce Futtehpoor, which was said to be threatened by a large force of the enemy.’ Had this railway been opened when or soon after the Revolt began, there is at least a fair probability that the Cawnpore massacre might have been prevented – provided always that the railway itself, with its locomotives and carriages, were not in rebels’ hands.

Allahabad, about the period now under notice, was made the subject of a very important project, one of many arising out of the mutiny. The Indian government had long and fully considered the various advantages likely to be derived from the founding of a great Anglo-Indian capital at some spot far removed from the three older presidential cities of Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay. The spot selected was Allahabad. The peculiarities of this very important station, before and during the mutiny, have been frequently noticed in past chapters. Occupying the point of the peninsula formed by the junction of the two grand rivers Ganges and Jumna, Allahabad is scarcely paralleled for situation by any other city in India. The one river brings down to it a stream of traffic from Kumaon, Rohilcund, Furruckabad, Cawnpore, Futtehpoor, and the southwestern districts of Oude; while the other brings down that from Kurnaul, Roorkee, Meerut, Delhi, Muttra, Agra, Calpee, and a wide range of country in Rajpootana, Bundelcund, and the Doab. On the other sides, too, it has an extraordinary number of large military and commercial towns within easy reach (in peaceful times), such as Lucknow, Fyzabad, Sultanpore, Goruckpore, Azimghur, Jounpoor, Benares, Ghazeepore, Mirzapore, Dinapoor, and Patna. Agra was at one time intended to have been converted into a presidential city, the capital of an Agra presidency; but the intention was not fully carried out; the Northwest Provinces were formed into a lieutenant-governorship, with Agra as the seat of government; but the events of the mutiny shewed the necessity of holding with a strong hand the position of Allahabad, as a centre of great influence; and Agra began to fall in relative importance.

It has been remarked that England has seldom built cities as a nation, as a government; cities have grown, like the constitution, without those preconceived theories of centralised organisation which are so prevalent on the continent of Europe. It has been much the same in India as in England. The three presidential capitals – Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay – became what they are, not from the development of a plan, but from a series of incidents having little relative connection. ‘Our three capitals are congeries of houses, without order, or beauty, or healthiness other than nature may have supplied. Our cantonments, which sometimes grow into cities, are generally stuck down in a plain as a kind of petrified encampment. Even when founding, as in Rangoon, it is with the utmost difficulty we can compel successive governors to care whether the original plan be not set aside.’ A problem arose whether Allahabad might not be an exception to this rule. Standing at the extreme end of the Doab, and bounded by two fine rivers on the north, south, and east, it is susceptible of any degree of enlargement by including additional ground on the west; it might be made one of the strongest forts in India; and its rivers, aided by the railway when finished, might make it a great centre of trade. Most of the conditions, therefore, were favourable to the building of a fine Anglo-Indian city on that spot. The river frontages, it is easily seen, might easily be defended against any attacks which orientals could bring against them. On the west or land side, it was proposed to construct a line of intrenchment, or a sort of intrenched camp, four miles in length, from river to river. This fortification would consist mainly of two great redoubts on the river-banks, each capable of holding an entire regiment, but each defensible by a small force if necessary. With these two redoubts, and one midway between them, and earthern embankments to connect the three, it would be possible to render Allahabad impregnable to any hostile force likely to be brought against it. Within the space thus marked out by the embankment and the rivers would be included a cantonment, a European town, and a native town. The cantonment, a complete military establishment for four or five regiments, would be near the western boundary, on the Jumna side. Eastward of this would be the new English town, built in plots of ground let on lease to builders (native or European), who would be required, in building houses, shops, and hotels, to conform to some general plan, having reference to the railway station as a centre of trade. Nearer the Ganges would be the native town; while at the point of junction of the two rivers would be the existing fort, extended and enlarged so as to form if needed a last stronghold for all the Europeans in Allahabad. Many of the details in the plan were suggested during a period of panic fear, when the natives were looked upon as if they were permanently bitter enemies; and, during the long course of years necessary for working out the idea, great modification in these details might be expected; but the general character of the scheme, as developed about the period to which this chapter relates, may be understood from the above brief sketch.

It was on the 5th of May that a notification appeared at Allahabad, signed by Mr Thornhill, officiating commissioner under the governor-general, concerning the leasing of land in that city for building purposes. The terms were evidently framed with the intention of attracting the notice of commercial firms, at Calcutta and elsewhere, to Allahabad as a future emporium of commerce. The regulations may be summarily noticed as follow: A new civil European town to be formed near the railway station at Allahabad, distinct from the cantonment, the native town, and the fort. Land, in plots of three acres each, to be let on lease by the government, for the erection of shops, hotels, warehouses, and other buildings requisite for a European population. Each plot to have a frontage of three hundred feet on a public road, with a smaller road in the rear. Some of the plots to be let for dwelling-houses; and these, as well as the hotels and shops, to receive a certain systematic arrangement, laid down by the authorities for the general convenience of the whole community. Priority of choice to be given to those who intend to construct hotels, on account of the great necessity for that species of accommodation in a newly collected community. Plots, competed for by two or more persons, to be sold by auction to the highest bidder. The lease to be for fifty years, unless a shorter time be specified by agreement; and the lessee to have the privilege of renewal, under approval as to conditions, but not with any rise of rental. The rent to be thirty rupees (about £3) per acre per annum. Leases to be transferable, and sub-letting to be permitted, on payment of a registration fee; provided the transferree or sublessee enter into an engagement to fulfil the necessary conditions to the government. Every lessee to specify the kind of structures he intends to build on his plot; to commence building within one year after obtaining the lease; and to finish in three years – on forfeiture both of the lease and of a money penalty, if the building fail in kind, value, or time. Lessees to be subject to such rates and taxes as may be imposed for municipal purposes, and to all regulations of police and conservancy. Lessees to be placed under stringent rules, concerning the employment of thatch or other inflammable materials for the roofs of buildings. As a general rule, one plot to one lessee; but if a special application be made, and supported on sufficient grounds, two or more plots to be leased together. – Such were the general regulations. At the time of issuing the order, there were about forty plots set out as a commencement to the system.