Chapter XXVIII: Military Operations in April (2)

Walpole’s field-force, resting at night under shady groves, it was hoped might reach Bareilly about the 24th of the month; and this was the more to be desired, seeing that Rohilcund, from its position in relation to numerous rivers, becomes almost impassable as soon as the rains set in—about the end of May or the beginning of June. Marching onward in accordance with the plan laid down, Walpole came on the 14th of April to one of the many forts which have so often been mentioned in connection with the affairs of Oude. The name of the place, situated about fifty miles from Lucknow, and ten from the Ganges, was variously spelled Rhodamow, Roodhamow, Roer, and Roowah; but whatever the spelling, the fort became associated in the minds of the British troops with more angry complainings than any other connected with the war; since it was the scene of a mortifying repulse which better generalship might have avoided, and which was accompanied by the death of a very favourite officer. Rhodamow was a small fort or group of houses enclosed by a high mud-wall, loopholed for musketry, provided with irregular bastions at the angles, and having two gates. It was a petty place, in relation to the largeness of the force about to attack it—nearly six thousand men. While marching through the jungle towards Rohilcund, Walpole heard that fifteen hundred insurgents had thrown themselves into this fort of Rhodamow; but the number proved to be much smaller. He attacked it with infantry without previously using his artillery, and without (as it would appear) a sufficient reconnaissance. He sent on the 42d Highlanders and the 4th Punjaub infantry to take the fort; but no sooner did the troops approach it than they were received by so fierce and unexpected a fire of musketry, from a concealed enemy, that not only was the advance checked, but the gallant Brigadier Adrian Hope was killed at the head of his Highlanders. The troops could not immediately and effectually reply to this fire, for their opponents were hidden behind the loopholed wall. Everything seems to have been thrown into confusion by this first fatal mistake; the supports were sent up too late, or to the wrong place; and the exasperated troops were forced to retire, amid yells of triumph from the enemy. The heavy guns were then brought to do that which they ought to have done at first; they began to breach the wall, but the enemy quietly evacuated the fort during the night, with scarcely any loss. Besides Adrian Hope, several other officers were either killed or wounded, and nearly a hundred rank and file. During this mortifying disaster, in which the Highlanders were particularly unfortunate in the loss of officers, Quartermaster Sergeant Simpson, of the 42d, displayed that daring spirit of gallantry which so endears a soldier to his companions. When the infantry had been recalled from the attack, Simpson heard that two officers of his regiment had been left behind, dead or wounded in the ditch outside the wall. He rushed out, seized the body of Captain Bromley, and brought it back amid a torrent of musketry; setting forth again, he brought in the body of Captain Douglas in a similar way, and he did not cease until seven had been thus brought away—to be recovered if only wounded, to be decently interred if dead. It was a day, however, the memory of which could not be sweetened by any such displays of gallantry, or by many subsequent victories; the men of the two Highland regiments felt as if a deep personal injury had been inflicted on them by the commander of the column. Sir Colin Campbell, when the news of this untoward event reached him, paid a marked compliment to Adrian Hope in his dispatch. ‘The death of this most distinguished and gallant officer causes the deepest grief to the commander-in-chief. Still young in years, he had risen to high command; and by his undaunted courage, combined as it was with extreme kindness and charm of manner, had secured the confidence of his brigade in no ordinary degree.’ Viscount Canning, in a like spirit, officially notified that ‘no more mournful duty has fallen upon the governor-general in the course of the present contest than that of recording the premature death of this distinguished young commander.’

General Walpole pursued his march, and had a successful encounter on the 22d with a large body of the enemy at Sirsa. His cavalry and artillery attacked them so vigorously as to capture their guns and camp, and to drive them over the Ramgunga in such haste as to leave them no time for destroying the bridge of boats at that place. This achievement was fortunate, for it enabled Walpole on the 23d to transport his heavy guns quickly and safely over the Ramgunga at Allygunje. A few days after this, he was joined by the commander-in-chief, whose movements we must next notice.

It was immediately after Sir Colin Campbell’s return from his interview with the governor-general at Allahabad, that he withdrew from Lucknow all the remaining troops, except those destined for the defence of that important city, and for the re-establishment of British influence in Oude. He formed an expeditionary army, which he headed himself—or rather, the army set forth from Lucknow to Cawnpore, and the commander-in-chief joined it at the last-named place on the 17th of April. The result of the conference at Allahabad had been, a determination to march up the Doab to Furruckabad, and to attack the Rohilcund rebels on a side where neither Jones nor Walpole could well reach them. The heat was great, the rivers were rising, and the rains were coming in a few weeks; and it became now a question whether the movements from Lucknow as a centre had or had not been too long delayed. Sir Colin with his column—for, being a mere remnant, it was too small a force to designate an army—took their departure from Cawnpore on the 18th, leaving that city in the hands of a small but (at present) sufficient body of troops. On the 19th he advanced to Kilianpore, on the 20th to Poorah, and on the 21st to Urrowl—marching during early morn, and encamping in the hotter hours of the day. The day’s work commenced, indeed, so early as one o’clock in the morning; when the elephants and camels began to be loaded with their burdens, the equipage and tents packed up, and the marching arrangements completed. Between two or three o’clock, all being in readiness, away went infantry, cavalry, artillery, engineers, commissariat, and a countless host of natives, horses, camels, elephants, bullocks, and vehicles—covering an area of which the real soldiers occupied but a very small part. They marched or rode till about six o’clock; when all prepared for breakfast, and for a hot day during which little active exertion was possible without imminent danger of _coup de soleil_. Sir Colin’s train of munition and supplies was enormous; for, in addition to the usual baggage of an army, he had to take large commissariat supplies with him. The villagers held aloof in a manner not usual in the earlier stages of the mutiny, and in other parts of India; they did not come forward to engage in a traffic which would certainly have been profitable to them, in selling provisions to the army. Whether this arose from inability or disinclination, was a matter for controversy; but the fact itself occasioned embarrassment and uneasiness to a commander who had to drag with his army a huge train of animals and vehicles filled with food. The enormous number of natives, too, that accompanied the force, with their wives and families, exerted its usual cumbrous effect on the movements of the troops; so that the fighting-men themselves bore but a minute fractional ratio to the living and dead accompaniments of the column. It is useless to complain of this. An army of five thousand, or any other number, of British troops _must_ have a large train of native attendants, to contend against the peculiarities of Indian climate and Indian customs. Mr Russell, marching with this portion of the late ‘Army of Oude,’ said: ‘If the people we see around us, who are ten or twelve to one as compared with us in this camp, were—not to arm and cut our throats, or poison us, or anything of that kind—but simply bid us a silent good-bye this night, and leave us, India would be lost to us in a day. It requires only that, and all the power of England could not hold the eastern empire. We could not even strike our tents without these men to-morrow. We are dependent on them—even the common soldier is—for the water we drink and the meals we eat, for our transport, for all but the air we breathe; and the latter, it must be admitted, is not improved by them sometimes. The moment that such a thing becomes possible as a popular desertion, through patriotic or any other motives, from the service of the state, it becomes impossible to hold India except upon sufferance. It is the rupee, self-interest, and the necessities of a population trained to follow camps, which afford guarantees against such a secession—unlikely enough indeed in any nation, and scarcely possible in any war.... We are, in fact, waging war against Hindoos and Mussulmans by the aid and with the consent of other Hindoos and Mussulmans, just as Alexander was able to beat Porus by the aid of his Indian allies; and no European or other state can ever rule in India without the co-operation and assistance of a large proportion of the races which inhabit the vast peninsula.’

Sir Colin marched on the 22d to Meerun-ke-serai, near the ruins of the ancient city of Canouje; on the 23d to Gosaigunje; and on the 24th to Kamalgunje—approaching each day nearer to Furruckabad. Every day’s camping-ground was selected near the Ganges, both for the sake of salubrity, and to check if possible the passage of rebel bands over the river from Oude into the Doab. On the 25th the column reached Furruckabad, or rather the adjacent English station of Futteghur. General Penny came from a neighbouring district to confer with the commander-in-chief on matters connected with the Rohilcund campaign, and then returned to the column or brigade which he commanded. Futteghur had regained a part of its former importance, as the place where most of the artillery-carriages and sepoy-clothing were made, and where vast quantities of timber and cloth had fallen as spoil to the enemy.

The sojourn at Futteghur was very brief. The electric telegraph had been busy transmitting information to and from Allahabad; and as Sir Colin’s plans were already made, he lost no time in putting them in execution. The main plan comprised four movements—Campbell from Futteghur, Walpole from Lucknow, Jones from Roorkee, and Penny from Puttealee; all intended to hem the rebels into the middle of Rohilcund, and there crush them. The marches of Walpole and Jones have already been noticed; Penny was to march his column towards Meerunpore Muttra, between Shahjehanpoor and Bareilly, after crossing the Ganges near Nudowlee; while the commander-in-chief was to enter Rohilcund directly from Futteghur. In the middle of the night between the 26th and 27th his column, elephants and guns and all, crossed the Ganges by the bridge of boats, and entered the province which was to be a scene of hostilities. After a few hours the column reached the river Ramgunga, which it crossed by the bridge of boats fortunately secured by Walpole as the fruit of his victory at Allygunje; and soon afterwards the commander-in-chief effected a junction with Walpole, at Tingree near the Ramgunga. No very long time for repose was allowed; stern work was to be done, and the sooner commenced, the less would it be checked by heat and prohibited by rains. A march of a few hours brought the now united columns to Jelalabad—one of many places of that name in India. It was a fort which had lately been occupied by a small body of matchlockmen, who had precipitately abandoned it when news of Sir Colin’s approach reached them. A small village lay near, and was governed by the fort. The Moulvie of Fyzabad was believed to have intended to make a stand at this place, but to have abandoned it for a larger stronghold at Shahjehanpoor. On the 29th, a further approach was made to Kanth. Each day was pretty well like that which preceded it—the same early marching, camping, and resting, and the same struggle with the camp-followers, who, however closely watched, pertinaciously plundered the villages through or near which they passed—thereby terrifying and exasperating all villagers alike, whether friendly or unfriendly to the British. This system of plunder by the camp-followers was one of the greatest troubles to which the generals of the several columns were exposed; severe punishments were threatened, but all in vain.

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.[168] 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.

Fort of Peshawur.
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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,[169] 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[170] 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.

-----

Footnote 165:

The following will give an idea of the mode in which the _Gazette_
announcements were made: ‘24th Bombay N. I.—Lieutenant William
Alexander Kerr; date of act of bravery, July 10, 1857.—On the breaking
out of a mutiny in the 27th Bombay N. I. in July 1857, a party of the
mutineers took up a position in the stronghold or _paga_ near the town
of Kolapore, and defended themselves to extremity. “Lieutenant Kerr,
of the Southern Mahratta Irregular Horse, took a prominent share in
the attack on the position; and at the moment when its capture was of
great public importance, he made a dash at one of the gateways, with
some dismounted horsemen, and forced an entrance by breaking down the
gate. The attack was completely successful, and the defenders were
either killed, wounded, or captured—a result that may with perfect
justice be attributed to Lieutenant Kerr’s dashing and devoted
bravery.” (Letter from the Political Superintendent at Kolapore to the
Adjutant-general of the Army, dated September 10, 1857.)’

Footnote 166:

‘Of the dust it is quite beyond the powers of writing to give a
description. It is so fine and subtle, that long after the causes
which raised it have ceased to exert their influence, you may see it
like a veil of gauze between your eyes and every object. The sun,
while yet six or seven degrees above the horizon, is hid from sight by
it as though the luminary were enveloped in a thick fog; and at early
morning and evening, this vapour of dust suspended high in air seems
like a rain-cloud clinging to a hillside. When this dust is set
rapidly in motion by a hot wind, and when the grosser sand, composed
of minute fragments of talc, scales of mica, and earth, is impelled in
quick successive waves through the heated atmosphere, the effect is
quite sufficient to make one detest India for ever. Every article in
your tent, your hair, eyes, and nose, are filled and covered with this
dust, which deposits a coating half an inch thick all over the
tent.’—W. H. RUSSELL.

Footnote 167:

It may here be remarked that the difficulty of moving heavy ordnance
over the bad roads and roadless tracts of India, painfully felt by the
artillery officers engaged in the war, suggested to the East India
Company an inquiry into the possibility of employing locomotives for
such a purpose. A machine, called ‘Boydell’s Traction Engine,’
patented some time before in England, was tested with a view to
ascertain the degree of its availability for this purpose. The
peculiarity of this engine was, that it was a locomotive _carrying its
own railway_. Six flat boards were ranged round each of the great
wheels in such a way that each board came in succession _under_ the
wheel, and formed, for a few feet, a flat plankroad or tramway for the
wheel to roll upon. It was supposed that the vehicle would move much
more easily by this contrivance, than if the narrow periphery of the
wheel ran upon soft mud or irregular pebbles and gravel. The motion of
the wheel placed each plank down at its proper time and place, and
lifted it up again, in such a way that there was always one of the
boards flat on the ground, beneath the wheel. Colonel Sir Frederick
Abbott and Colonel Sir Proby Cautley, on the part of the directors,
tested this machine at Woolwich—where it drew forty tons of ordnance
along a common road, uphill as well as upon the level. Another
road-locomotive, by Messrs Napier, was tested for a similar purpose.
The results were of good augury for the future; but the machines were
not perfected early enough to be made applicable for the wars of the
mutiny.

Footnote 168: