It seems surpassingly strange that so little notice was taken of the impending danger by those whose duty it was to care for the safety of a mighty empire. We had, at the beginning of the year 1857, three regiments less than before the annexation of Oude. There were no European regiments at many of the largest stations: Allahabad, Kanhpur, Benares, and Delhi, were all left to the protection of disaffected regiments. The Government at Calcutta, in serene complacency, was coolly issuing orders for the disbanding of regiments: as though that could in any way stop the evil.
We now heard of the hanging of Mangal Pandi and of incendiarisms at Ambalah. Many reasons were assigned for these disturbances: first, the trumpery one of the greased cartridges; and, secondly, the annexation of Oude. But neither of these were the real reason.
The heat now began to be overpowering: I was awakened one morning by the most stifling sensation
in the air, and felt quite ill. The ayah and bearer said the hot winds had commenced. Really, I did think it was very “arg ke mafick” (like fire): it made your brain feel on fire, and all the blood in your body throb and burn like liquid fire. We drove out for a short time, and I was struck with the grey, lurid look of the sky: the trees looked dry and withered.
We could no longer drive round the “course;” the only bearable place was the well-watered road between the houses. Gwalior cantonments are situated in a hollow, therefore the hot winds sweep over them unimpeded.
We felt languid and weary, and every precaution was taken to mitigate the intense heat. We bathed many times in the day, and drank cooling drinks – particularly soda-water. Indeed, so much of this do the Europeans drink, the natives think it is the only water we have at home, and call it “belathee arnee” (foreign water).
Mr. and Mrs. Pierson arrived during the hot weather. It seems strange that in the mutiny, though Mr. Pierson was not so well known or so much liked by his men as Major Blake, Captain Stuart, and Dr. Kirke, yet they not only spared him and his wife, but assisted them to escape. A little before this, a man from Calcutta arrived to take photographs, and stayed some time. Some of these photographs were actually recovered after
the mutinies, and sent into Agra. The Stuarts were taken in groups, and made very pretty pictures, which were sent home, and, I believe, arrived there safely. What a comfort they must have been! I saw several groups of sepoys taken also. Many photographs were found in the room of horrors at Kanhpur!
The tempest had been brewing at Meerut for some time: bungalows and houses were burnt, and no one knew who had perpetrated these flagrant acts of revolt. At last eighty-five troopers, having refused to fire with the cartridges supplied them, were sentenced to six and ten years’ imprisonment. In spite of the sullen, defiant looks of the sepoys, they were carried to a prison two miles off, in the native city, instead of being under an English guard. But for this, the terrible plot would have remained concealed till the day fixed for a simultaneous rising; when, doubtless, the consequences would have been much more terrible than they were. All went on as usual till Sunday (the fatal day), the 10th of May.
The news, by means of the telegraph, was all over India by the 13th; but we then hoped it was not known to the natives, precautions having been taken to prevent them corresponding. It burst on .us at Gwalior like a thunderclap, and paralysed us with horror. We could not help wondering how a plot, known to so many thousands, could so long remain secret, and all things go on quietly as ever. We
did not see the terrible details till a day or two afterwards, when we were dining with the Stuarts: I remember our gloomy forebodings, and how we talked of what had happened. Little more than a month after, out of the nine people assembled together that night, there were only three survivors. Captain Stuart sent to the dick office, at the Lushkur, for the papers, that we might see the list of killed and escaped, as many of us were in anxious suspense about friends at Meerut. Oh what a number of people have been cut off in the full pride and vigour of youth in these fearful mutinies. What happy homes have been desolated and hearts broken I The particulars of the Delhi and Meerut mutinies are now too well known: I will not dwell on them; but think how we must have heard of them at Gwalior
Martial law was now proclaimed in the Meerut district, and Sir Henry Lawrence sent the following telegraphic message to the Governor-General:– “All is quiet here; but affairs are critical. Get every European you can from China, Ceylon, and elsewhere; also all the Gurkhas from the Hills: time is everything.”
On the 17th, the whole Contingent was paraded to hear the Government proclamation, which was read by Brigadier Ramsey, who also addressed them. This he could do very well, as he knew the language perfectly. Captain Pearson and Lieutenant Cockbourn left Gwalior with half the cavalry and artillery
regiments. Captain Campbell left also for Agra in command of the Rajah’s body-guard.
Major Macpherson now took lip his abode in the cantonments. We went one day to dine with him, and I was introduced to the, Maharajah Sindia, who happened to be there. I have a distinct recollection, when he shook hands with me, of his limp cold hand – just like all natives.
From that time the Rajah used frequently to come to the cantonments to see Major Macpherson.
I can never forget the fearful gloom of that month; but as our feelings are better described in my own and my husband’s letters home, I will here insert some of them.
* * * “Gwalior, Saturday, May 16th; 1857.
“I write to you to-day, although the mail does not leave Bombay until the 28th, because there is no knowing now how long the road between this and Bombay will be open for the passage of the mails. The country, north of Agra, is in a dreadful state. You will probably have heard of mutiny and disaffection having shown itself in some native regiments near Calcutta, in consequence of which some men were hung, and one whole native regiment and part of another were disbanded: apparently the severest punishment the Government dared to inflict. Well, it appears now that there has been an attempt at conspiracy for a general rising throughout the country.
It is known that it was intended to rise upon all the Europeans and murder them. And now the insurrection has broken out at Lucknow, Meerut, and Delhi, and other places, where there are no European regiments, the English are of course entirely at the mercy of the brutal, treacherous native soldiers; and, as you see, it has been only the presence of two English regiments at Meerut that has saved any of the Europeans. Of course we are alarmed here. There are only about twenty English officers, with their wives and children, in the station, and about 5,000 native troops, so that we are entirely at their mercy. Already, half of our native cavalry and half of the artillery have been sent to Agra, and these were far more to be trusted than the infantry who remain. Even the Rajah’s body-guard has gone to Agra. There is an English regiment at Agra, but there are many native regiments, 3,000 cut-throats in the gaol, and a hostile population; so that they would have little chance against so many enemies. And, positively, the Governor has called up all the native regiments, and told them that if they do not like the service, they are at liberty to leave it without molestation. Fancy such a course as this when a rising is feared throughout the country!
“I do not think that our lives are safe for a moment. Oh, how gladly would I send off my wife to England, or even to Agra, this moment if I could. The insurgents, of course, will be increasing every
day, and if they come here, the native soldiers have as good as told their officers that they will not resist them; – ‘they will not fight against their brethren;’ and it would not be simply death to fall into their hands.
“This is God’s punishment upon all the weak tampering with idolatry and flattering vile superstitions. The sepoys have been allowed to have their own way as to this and that thing which they pretended was part of their religion, and so have been spoiled and allowed to see that we were frightened of them. And now no one can tell what will be the end of it. There is no great general to put things right by a bold stroke. We shall all be cut up piecemeal. Instead of remaining to have our throats cut, we ought to have gone to Agra long ago, or towards Bombay; and all the European regiments should have been drawn together, and every native regiment that showed the least sign of disaffection at once destroyed, or at least driven away: for, as a leading article in the Agra paper of this morning observes, what native regiment can now be trusted? I would. leave for Bombay at once, but it would be death to be exposed even for an hour to the sun. I What to do I know not. The officers of course dare not stir one step, but I wonder they do not contrive some plan for sending the ladies and children up to Agra, or to some place where there are English troops. There is gloom on the few English faces,
and a scowl upon the face of every native already. This letter will certainly make you very anxious about us. Sarah happily is all safe, being near Calcutta; but I hope you will get a more favourable account from me enclosed with this, or, at least, hear that we are in some place of safety. I would send my wife off at once if I had the chance. The possibility even of our falling into the hands of these demons is horrible.
“G. W. COOPLAND.
P. S. It is dreadfully hot here: everything is like fire.”
* * * “Gwalior, May 19th, 1857.
“I shall write to you some time before the mail will leave Bombay, but in the very unsettled state of the country, and the dak being stopped, it is better not to lose any time. You will know what dreadful times we live in, when we cannot be sure of our lives for a day, and live in a state of constant anxiety and dread. You will perhaps have seen in the papers that there have been riots in India. The insurgents are now spreading themselves all over. Nothing has yet been heard of the officers, their wives, and families, at Delhi. The rebels have set up a king and a judge there. They seem to have chosen the best time for rebelling, when the hot weather is commencing, and it would be dangerous for the European troops to be exposed to it. All the
regiments from the Hills are being ordered down to reinforce Delhi, Meerut, and other important stations; but it will be long before anything can be done, as no reliance can be placed on the native troops.
“Here the troops say they won’t fight against their brethren. The artillery and cavalry have left here for Agra, together with the Maharajah’s bodyguard, which Captain Campbell has the temporary command of There are only about thirty Englishmen in this station, and the native troops are not the least to be depended upon. They would most likely take part with the insurgents, of whom there must now be a great number; and they will soon be joined by all who hate the English. The insubordination in our own, servants is most remarkable. They look as if they would like to cut our throats. The life we lead is quite miserable; the heat before was bad enough to bear, but now it is dreadful, when you live in fear of your life. Here we are in .the midst of a lot of savages (for most of them are nothing better), seventy miles from any European regiment, and the insurgents are not far from us. They attacked a small station between here and Agra, and nearly murdered an officer. They murder people in the most cold-blooded way. At Agra there are 3,000 cut-throats in the gaol, very badly guarded, and if they were let out, what would be the consequences?
“I wish we were safe at home. George has
his rifle in readiness. All night long we are only separated by a thin piece of wood from our coolies who pull the punkahs, and who would not hesitate to cut our throats if they had the chance.
“We do not know from day to day what will happen. Captain Campbell gave his wife a brace of loaded pistols before he left her, so you may fancy the state we live in. I hope we shall soon hear better news when the English troops meet the rebels; but they will never be able to stand the heat, as they are only invalided troops from the Hills. Poor Sarah Money (formerly Menteath) had to part from her husband not a month after their marriage, as his regiment was ordered against the rebels.
“R. M. COOPLAND.”
* * * “Gwalior, May 22nd, 1857.
“I have already sent off a letter for you, for the mail which is to leave Bombay on May 28th, giving you an account of the dreadful rebellion that has broken out in India. I am very sorry that I have no better news to give you now; we are still in great uncertainty and danger. Nothing of course is heard from Delhi, which is still in the hands of the rebels; and it is to be feared that many of the Europeans who were there when the rebellion broke out have been massacred. I gave you before the names of some that had been murdered there, and nothing further has been heard.
“It is a dreadful time for Europeans to have to move down into the plains; but of course it was necessary to strike a blow at once.
“We hear that the Commander-in-Chief is already on his way to Delhi with three European regiments, cavalry and artillery, and two or three native regiments that are supposed to be yet faithful; and it is said that native troops will be found sufficiently trustworthy from stations near Delhi to help in surrounding and investing it. It will be long even before they reach it, so we shall have to wait to know our fate, and the fate, apparently, of English empire in India. It seems that the massacre at Meerut was frightful; that though there were two English regiments in the station, the natives succeeded in murdering a large number of their officers, and many women and children. But we have heard nothing certain. The mutineers from Meerut and other places have already spread themselves over the country, and just now something ‘terrible has happened at Etawah, a small station only about forty miles to the east of this place, for a whole regiment has been hurried away thither from here this morning. It is to be hoped that they will be faithful. They are all natives, and have only three English officers.
“We get no newspapers, and as I, of course, am not admitted to military consultations here, the only news we get is by chance conversation, or by my
writing to the Brigade Major, or some other officer, and asking what is going on.
“You know that we are not in English dominions, but in those of the Rajah of Gwalior. Happily he remains faithful to the English, at least so far, mad in appearance, though now no one can tell what native is to be trusted.
“The weather is now dreadfully close and hot, though they say that the extreme heat has not yet set in.
“The change in the behaviour of all servants and natives is wonderful, since the disturbances broke out All are insolent, no longer like submissive slaves, but as if they were very forbearing in not at once murdering you; and the people eye us, when we drive out, in the most sinister and malicious way.
“G. W. Coopland.”
* * * “Gwalior, May 23rd.
“I write again, as I think you may be anxious to know how things go on.
“We are all in a very anxious and dreadful position; for what must be a decisive blow to this dreadful conspiracy, is now going on at Delhi. A large force of English troops have reached Delhi, and are to commence operations to-day. The last mail from Agra, which came in to-day, brought word that the rebels had taken Aligarh, where
there is a treasury, and so had got possession of a large amount of money, and had stopped the communication with the Panjab; so that now we can know nothing certain of the state of things there, and can only hope that the sepoys will remain faithful there; for if they join the rebels, all is lost. The fate of India will be decided in two or three days – perhaps is deciding now. There are supposed to be 7,000 sepoys, all trained by the English, in possession of Delhi; and it is now believed they have a large number of English officers prisoners, whom they have not yet murdered. Our fate depends upon the result at Delhi; the slightest failure will be the signal for revolt and massacre among all the native troops throughout the country. Of course here, as everywhere else, there is the most anxious expectation, There are now only tan English officers in the station, with many ladies and children, and in the midst of native troops ready to break out at a moment’s notice, and are only waiting to see what happens at Delhi. We hope that Agra is safe, as our own lot depends, in a great measure, upon it. There is great fear, if Delhi is not taken, of the insurgents coming here, as Gwalior is on their way, and the atrocities they commit are fearful to think of. The insurgents have burnt down a railway station-house not very far from Calcutta, so it will be very difficult to get there now; they have also burnt down a large hospital at Agra. The rebels intend to make terms,
by means of the prisoners, with the English who are now besieging Delhi. One young officer did a very brave thing – he blew up a place containing firearms of all sorts. It is supposed he blew himself up with it, as nothing has been since heard of him. You have no idea of the gloom here; people seldom go out of their houses, and all look as if they expected some dreadful calamity. We dined last night with the Stuarts. Several officers were there, and they all spoke most doubtfully of things, and said, if a decisive blow was not struck at Delhi, it would be all over with the English.
“It will be dreadful work for the regiments to have forced marches in these scorching winds. We have no news from the Panjab, as the dak is stopped. Things have been in a very unsettled state at Peshawur for some time; they killed an officer who was out of cantonments lately. This is worse than the Santal rebellion, as it is amongst the Company’s own troops. Some of the native regiments that left here are now at Delhi. Some of the officers I met last night said they had observed the insolent manner of the sepoys here for some time.
“R. M. COOPLAND.
“P.S. – Before I write again, I hope to have better news for you; if not, there is no knowing if we shall be alive.”
* * * “Gwalior, June 2nd.
“I am very sorry to say that the aspect of things is not at all more favourable now, and we ourselves have been during the last few days in the midst of the greatest alarm and trouble.
“The rebellion continues to spread all around us, and has broken out, it is to be feared, even in the Panjab; but we do not hear much, and that very irregularly, since, in many places, the post roads and telegraphs are in the possession of the rebels, and where it is open the Government keep it to themselves, and seem to hide the real state of things as much as possible from the people. But we know that at Itawah (perhaps sixty or seventy miles from us) the houses of the officers have been pillaged and burnt down, and the treasury carried off; the same has been done at Mainpuri, a considerable station between Agra and Kanhpur. The insurgents are all over the country, plundering and murdering as they please. Nothing has yet been heard from Delhi, everything being in the hands of many thousands of rebels, who have got possession of treasure, it is said, to the amount of between half a million and a million of rupees, besides the property that they have got in Delhi, which was a very wealthy city. It was expected that the Commander-in-Chief would have made an attack upon Delhi a week ago, and now that nothing is heard of him, we are almost in
despair; either he is panic-struck, or the native troops we trusted have turned traitors, or he has been defeated, or cholera has broken out among his troops. And everything depends upon his success If he is defeated, we shall all go at once. It is terrible to watch how fear has gradually come over the Government. First, there was a proclamation promising speedy extermination to all rebels, saying that English troops were gathering from all quarters, and that vengeance would soon overtake their enemies. Now, to our shame and humiliation, a proclamation has appeared, declaring that every sepoy who has taken part in this rebellion will be allowed to go to his home in . peace on ,giving up his arms at the nearest station, i.e. offering entire impunity to the wretches that have murdered and treated with every outrage our women and children, and devastated everything with fire and sword.
“But now to come to ourselves. Two regiments and the cavalry having been lately sent off to other places, there are now here two regiments of infantry, two companies of artillery, and perhaps a hundred cavalry. The English community consists now of eleven officers, mostly with wives and children, three surgeons, the wives and families of four officers that have been sent off with their regiments, and four sergeants with wives and children. Well, it seems that on Wednesday last, and during Thursday, the most dreadful reports kept coming in to the brigadier,
the political agent, and some other officers secretly, that the whole of the troops here were to rise simultaneously on Thursday evening, at eleven o’clock, said burn down all our houses and murder us; of course none of these reports ever reached us, and about half-past five on Thursday evening Captain Murray tame rushing into our house, and asked to see me alone. He told me that he had been sent by the brigade-major to inform me that the troops were going to rise at eleven o’clock that night, and make wholesale burning and slaughtering; that every woman and child either had fled, or must at once make off to the Residency – a large house between seven and eight miles off, where the political agent at the Court of Gwalior lives; and that I must drive my wife over there in our buggy, since arrangements had been made for the occupation of all carriages in the station. It was of the utmost importance that our flight should be made unobserved; we must wait till the usual time of our evening drive, and pretending that we were going out as usual, must slip off on the road to the Residency; we must not take anything with us, for fear of exciting suspicion.
“This was all said in a few moments, and the officer hurried away. You may imagine our feelings, not knowing how. Many had escaped, nor whether we should “succeed in doing so, or should be stopped on the root We hastily dressed, and ordered our buggy to be ready, not without many fears that perhaps the
groom had run away, or the horse would be found lame; we took each a night-dress, gave a last look at our nice drawing-room, favourite books, &c., and my wife played on her piano, probably for the last time, and then about half-past six we got into our buggy and drove off, leaving our money and everything we had, just as if we were going out for our customary evening drive. I first drove down the station, thinking to avoid suspicion, and then drove into Mrs. Campbell’s compound, to ask if she had gone. We found that she had gone early that morning, and so, thinking there was no time to lose, turned down the road towards our place of refuge. We had at once to pass a long bridge guarded by soldiers, and there feared we should be stopped; but happily they let us pass, and we got clear out upon the road. The road was frightfully bad, in some places covered by gullies, and I had never been that way before, so that as darkness came on, and we were obliged to depend on the directions of any passing natives, and we were frequently passed by armed cavalry, we were not a little uncomfortable, and began at last to think (such was the wild, desolate look of the surrounding country) that we were being entrapped. At last we reached a large encampment of Mahratta horse and infantry surrounding a large stone house, which we were glad to find was to be our place of refuge.
“I have not time to give you a minute description of all that occurred here. You must imagine thirteen
ladies, almost all with one or two children, and four sergeants’ wives with their children, crowded together, having just left their husbands, as they supposed, in the greatest danger, and expecting that their houses, and all that they had, would in a few Yours be in flames, and a birth and death both expected to happen any time; no beds, no change of dress, and suffocatingly hot; and then an order that every one should be ready to start at a moment’s notice, for perhaps we might have to hurry off towards Agra. The political agent, a son of one of our officers, and an invalid soldier, were the only white men present. You must imagine what a night we passed, entirely in the hands of the Rajah’s troops, and expecting to hear the officers that might have survived come galloping in with news that all was over.
“But news came at last that the officers had gone among their men, and that the dreadful hour was passed, and no outbreak had been made; and then that the officers were sleeping among the lines, and the artillery officers and the Brigadier before the guns, so that it was supposed that the storm had passed for the present – to burst out on another opportunity. Early in the morning we were told that the Rajah had intimated that he could not afford troops to guard us at that distance; we must come down to one of his palaces. Of course we were obliged to submit; and before long the natives of
Gwalior crowded to a sight such as never had been seen in their streets before. Fifteen or sixteen carriages dashing through, surrounded by hundreds of wild Mahratta horsemen, and filled with English ladies and children. A gallop of four or five miles, through heat and dust, brought us to the Rajah’s palace.
“After waiting some time in the courtyard, we were conducted up a long flight of steps to the top of one part of the palace, which we were afterwards informed was near the Rajah’s harem. Such misery I have seldom seen – poor little children crying, ladies half dead with heat and fatigue, some in tears; nothing to defend us from the heat; one mother weeping over a child supposed to be dying, without medical aid or necessaries of any kind. The Rajah, however, did what he could – sent in some old English chairs and a table which he happened to possess, and two or three native beds; and even had frames, filled with thorns, put in where there were no windows, in order that water might be thrown upon them to keep us cooler. The heat, however, was terrific, and we began to think how many such days it would be possible to survive.
“As night came on, a few native beds were brought in, and, as far as they went, assigned to the different ladies. The excitement in the native city below us was immense – the people crowding round the palace and gathering on the tops of the neighbouring houses to get a glimpse of the English prisoners. An immense
number of troops was brought up to guard us, and large cannon without end.
“After another miserable night – I never got water to wash my face, or changed my linen, (my wife, happily for her, shared a bed with another lady this night,) – we were told a messenger had arrived from the Brigadier, to the effect that we were to return at once to the station.
“It appeared that the men had determined to remain faithful for the present, and that the native officers had gone to the Brigadier, and explained that they were offended at the departure of the ladies and at their being placed under the care of the Rajah; that their men would remain faithful, and we had nothing to fear.
“About six a.m. we bade farewell to the Rajah’s palace, and reached our houses again about seven, finding all just as we had left it. This was Saturday morning, and here we are still, Tuesday morning; but our condition is very pitiable. We are here only on sufferance; our masters are always around us: we have to be obliged to them for not burning down our houses and massacring us. How can we trust one of them, when we know that regiments just like them have been guilty of every enormity? How gladly should I find myself with my wife on board au English steamer but we cannot escape now, the roads are unsafe, even if the climate spared us. If a great blow is not struck soon at Delhi, all
will go. The Governor of Agra is most anxious that the news of our alarm here should not reach Agra, fearing the effects of it there, though they have one English regiment. Where this will end no one can tell.
“The country is no longer ours, but in the hands of sepoys; and our lives, and all we have, too. I hope you will all compassionate us, and think about us; and if it is not too late, I hope England will not leave us to be massacred with impunity, but send troops to save us: though, perhaps, all will be over before they reach us.
“G. W. COOPLAND.
“P. S. Wednesday morning, June 3rd. – Worse news still. We depended upon Agra, and now we hear that the European regiment there has had to set upon the two native regiments, and disarm them: what the 1,600 villains let loose will do, we cannot tell. No news from Delhi; every one asks what the Commander-in-Chief can be about? There are also fears about the native troops at Allahabad; and if they took the fort there, they would get, it is said, 30,000 or 40,000 stand of arms. Enough to arm the whole country against us.”
* * * “Gwalior, June 11th.
“You will be anxious to hear how things are going on. Well, first of all, I must tell you
that the good news of the fall of Delhi has just now come to us by telegraph from Agra. We have heard no particulars, and only know that Delhi was taken on the 8th, and that arrangements were being made for levelling the whole place to the ground. When I wrote to you last, I said that we were all wondering what had become of the Commander-in-Chief and his army, and hoping soon to hear of his arrival before Delhi. Well, next morning news came that he had died of cholera at Karnal. Since then, up to this morning, each day has brought us intelligence of some additional disaster. First, we heard that at Lucknow, where encomiums had been delivered by the authorities on the loyalty of the troops, everything was in disorder, the city burnt down, the troops in open mutiny. Next, that the same was occurring throughout the Panjab, at Mean Meer, Firuzpur, and other places; that even in Peshawur, it had become necessary to disarm the native troops; that at Um-balk all the native troops had mutinied, and been cat up by the Europeans coming down from the hills. Next came news of an alarm from Simla, where invalids, ladies, and children are assembled in multitudes, having gone up to escape the heat of the plains. The native troops had proposed terms to these poor creatures, on which they were to be spared. Hundreds had been crowded for safety
into some magazine, or building of the kind, without beds or any other comfort. Several ladies had lost their intellects through terror; some had escaped on foot into the jungles; many had fled to Dugshai and Kussowlie, and there cholera had broken out among them. Another day informed us that all the native troops at Bareilly had mutinied, and that the whole district of Rohilcund was up in arms. Then came word that in our own neighbourhood, at Ajmere and Nusseerabad, the whole of the native troops had risen and carried off the artillery towards Delhi, though there was a European regiment present, and that several officers of this regiment had fallen in a fight with them.
“Then we heard worse news, that at Nimach the same tragedy had been enacted, and that all the troops there had mutinied, including even one regiment of this Gwalior Contingent.
“This last news has been carefully kept secret, since it was feared that the troops here might be shaken when they heard of the defection of one of their own regiments. This Contingent having, up to this time, remained sound.
“On Sunday night last we were alarmed by loud shouting, and on going out I found the roads full of artillery and native troops making off towards Jhansi: a neighbouring station, where the troops had risen and carried off the treasury, the officers
and their families having fled into the fort. They went out some distance, but were recalled the same evening, it being feared that they would not face the rebels at Jhansi.
“Since then we have been in great doubt and uncertainty, not knowing that the next hour might not bring a like calamity on ourselves. As yet the men here remain quiet, but we are altogether at their mercy. They do almost what they like: lie down while on guard; laugh at us, and seem to enjoy the consternation and looks of constraint and uneasiness that are plainly visible among us. The least hope of success at Delhi would have set all into a flame. You may imagine our peace of mind has not been very great, receiving, as we have done, every day fresh details of horrible outrages and massacres.
“Some time ago we heard very bad news from Calcutta. The fort there, Fort William, the bulwark of India, with all its stores, arsenals, and magazines, was within a hair’s breadth of falling into the hands of the traitors. If it had not been for the loyalty of one native officer, who divulged the plot, the Fort would have been seized by mutineers, and the whole capital of India would have fallen into their hands. We afterwards heard that there had been a panic in Calcutta. Multitudes had fled on board the shipping in the river, arms had been served out
to all Europeans, volunteers were being enrolled, and even the French were preparing to assist against the enemy. But now we cannot hear what may be the fate of Calcutta, or even of Allahabad and Kanhpur”; all the country towards Calcutta and the trunk road being in the possession of the traitors, and every dak and telegraph being destroyed, even as far as Mainpuri, near Agra. I hope you will have good news from Benares. I think they are as safe there as anywhere. English troops have been sent up there, and as this is completely a Mahomedan rising, there is not much to be feared from the Hindus of Benares; who are, moreover, cowardly, unwarlike Bengalis. However, I believe we are all in the greatest danger. The European troops in India are very few, and almost incapable of acting in weather like this, and the worst season is coming. If cholera becomes general at Delhi, no one can tell what will befall them, and it will be six months before an army can be sent out from England. There are, I think, 71 native Bengal regiments, forming an army of between 50,000 and 60,000 men.
“Between twenty and thirty regiments have already mutinied, and everywhere the natives are ready to rise against us. In fact, it is the villagers that in many places have committed the worst outrages. The English officers and their families are
scattered all over the country at innumerable little stations. In this weather it is almost impossible to move, and if they could move they must abandon all their houses and property. Probably, too, they are afraid to move, because on the least appearance of their abandoning the country, the whole population would rise behind them. They cannot move, either, without the orders of their superiors. Even though Delhi is taken, I do not see how the small European force that we have, will be able to stand against the daily increasing hordes of rebels. Even at Sipri, the next station to this, the regiment is insubordinate or disaffected. This, with Jhansi and Nimach, which I spoke of before, are outstations which I have to visit.
“The detailed accounts of the massacres at Meerut and Delhi are most horrible. At Delhi a large number of gentlemen (including some civilians and the chaplain) and ladies had taken refuge in the palace of the old native King. The rebels, raving like demons, tore them out one after another and murdered them deliberately, and then dragged their bodies about the streets. The escapes of some, after wandering in the jungles and hiding there for days, are most wonderful. One family escaped in a carriage, having shot down, several times, the rebels who tried to stop them. In many places the regiments have first murdered their officers, in some
cases not one has survived. In one instance, the commanding officer committed suicide.
“I hope now Delhi is taken things will take a turn for the better. The mail does not leave Bombay, I believe, until the 27th, so that I shall be able, all well, to send you another letter about the 20th. . . . .
“G. W. COOPLAND.”
This collection transcribed by Chris Gage