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Chapter 13

Sir Colin’s look at Lucknow – A new route proposed – A dangerous passage passed – Saved a wounded soldier – Chivalry of Lord Seymour – In at the roof Highlanders! – Assault on the Sikandarbagh – Captains Cooper and Burroughs – The 53rd Foot would go in – Frightful slaughter – Colonel Ewart and the enemy’s damned colours – The Shah Najaf Mausoleum – Peel and Middleton knock for admittance – First assault repulsed – Major Alison – Captured by Adrian Hope – A glorious old soldier surrounded by his fine staff – General Mansfield

Sir Colin Campbell is a short sleeper, and he rises half dressed; his toilet is the shortest possible, and he is usually the first in the saddle, and the last out of it. At early dawn he visited the several posts, and inspected the approach to the Residency proposed by Sir James Outram. From the pinnacle of the Martinière College he afterwards surveyed the city spread broadly before us, with its glittering domes, white temples, long tortuous streets, and embowered palaces; and he did not descend till minutely informed of the situation of the several positions intervening. His eagle eye embraced the remarkable features of Lucknow, and he asked pertinent questions respecting them. I was opposed to the route proposed hence by Sir James Outram, because it had been followed before by Havelock, and was, therefore, sure to be lined by loop-holed defences. I suggested a passage more to the right, between the river and the

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canal, as not likely to be prepared for resistance, and as affording a good approach for a surprise.

During the day, the enemy came out in large numbers to threaten our position at the Martinière, by my proposed road. The infantry marched slowly through the woods and ripening crops in small detached parties, and halted, wherever they liked, in separate groups. The cavalry slowly joined the disorderly procession, few and far between, while light and heavy guns laboured through the sands. There seemed to be no directing head, and no preconcerted plan of attack. The cavalry scampered and capered over the plain, flourishing their swords at a great distance from our force, a part of which was quickly and quietly forming up in the dry bed of the canal. Their artillery blazed away, under cover of the woods, with some precision and much obstinacy, till the British infantry and cavalry mounted the high bank of the canal, when the rebel force, after a ludicrous show of resistance, turned about, and went fast homewards in the same irregular order.

Sir Colin Campbell followed some distance to see and understand more of the ground through which I proposed to conduct him. He returned, satisfied that it was practicable, and his dispositions for our advance the following morning were promptly made. His Excellency massed the artillery on the left flank, and maintained a heavy cannonade all night, to impress the enemy with the belief that he would pursue the old route.

The advance was made so silently and skilfully that the enemy could not attempt to occupy the ground over which we quickly passed. Nearly the whole distance was through narrow tortuous lanes, or low

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thick plantations enclosed by mud walls; which afforded such admirable shelter, that Sir Colin was amazed at the good fortune that let him pass unmolested. Indeed, the natural obstacles were so great that some cheeks blanched at the , contemplation of them. Near the Sikandarbagh I captured a man escaping through a lane, and learnt from him that the garden was strongly occupied, and that the enemy were completely surprised by this unexpected movement on their rear. I explained to the Chief his position, and respectfully advised the immediate advance of artillery to secure the gateway. A few mutineers were seen in the lanes on our left, who disappeared the moment the skirmishers of the 53rd and 93rd regiments showed themselves.

A terrific fire of musketry poured from the high walls as some of the 53rd Foot, with Sir Colin, reached the angle of the garden facing the river. The first man who attempted to pass under it was severely wounded in the hip, and lay with bullets ploughing the earth around him. I leaped from my horse, and dragged him by the arms into a but close by, the poor fellow thankfully squeezing my hands.

With his customary decision Sir Colin directed the 53rd Foot to line a shallow trench, by which retreat to the bridge of boats over the river was cut off. A gentleman by his side mistaking the order to mean an assault, suddenly sprang forward on his small slender horse, and, with drawn sword, remained calling to the men to follow him, exposed to a close destructive fire. It was the handsome youth whose white passive features had just attracted my notice, as he joined the staff; the fiery and impetuous young man was the same who looked so sedate and so unexcitable only a minute before.

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The suddenness of this startling exhibition of spirit excited the lookers-on, and the 53rd Foot, (who needed very little calling,) were passionately rising for the assault, when Sir Colin checked them in a loud voice.

“Come back! come back Lord Seymour; you have no business there! I did not order it I witnessed your gallantry with great pleasure. Consider yourself, my lord, as attached to my staff for the present! I admire your noble spirit, and must take care of you!”

The young nobleman returned abashed, and looking as if it was nothing to have escaped the hundred bullets directed at him.

Meanwhile, the artillery passed at a gallop, and, in superb style, mounted a high embankment, which gave them the command of the gate, and deprived the rebels of the only means left of escaping the terrible doom impending. The fire from the walls increased in fierceness as the Highlanders pressed forward, with some of the 53rd foot, to clear the huts in the neighbourhood. Sir Colin rode under the muskets of the enemy, impetuously directing every move. More and more the fusillade increased, and our intrepid fellows fell fast to the ground. The excited artillery persevered in a rapid and well-directed fire against the nearest tower. The noise grew deafening. Two companies of the Highlanders, with fixed bayonets, mounted to the plateau before the garden, and rushed upon the enemy, concealed in an extensive range of houses, who molested our flank A dead wall stopped them.

“In at the roof! Tear off the tiles and go in through the roof, Highlanders!” roared the old Chief.

In an instant bonnets and kilts disappeared through smashed tiles, torn mats, and broken bamboos, and the

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enemy were pursued to the barracks, where Captain Stewart furiously fell upon a couple of guns and captured them.

The noisy contest reverberated through the whole neighbourhood, and the earth trembled under the wheels of the cannon, as they belched forth shot and shell. Sir Colin Campbell and his gallant staff moved in the midst of it, protected by a miracle. The brave tawny Sikhs reached the front; the breach in the Sikandarbagh was declared practicable; a hole barely large enough for a single man was visible.

This day, this dreadful day, let each contend;

No rest, no respite, till the shades descend;

Till darkness, or till death shall cover all:

Let the war bleed, and let the mighty fall!

Till bathed in sweat be every manly breast,

With the huge shield let each brawny arm deprest,

Each aching nerve refuse the lance to throw,

And each spent courser at the chariot blow13.

The hot and vehement spirit of the undaunted Chief rose, and uncovering his grey hairs, he waved the Sikhs and Highlanders on to the assault. That was a gallant race! The Sikh was first – and dropped in dead The agitated plumes of a Highland bonnet rose – the wearer stood for an instant in the breach, and fell forward! Another, and another! Two more struggled in the opening to die first. Noble fellows! what cared they for death zzz Cooper and Burroughs are in, and, followed by their men, they pushed through the tower in pursuit of the mutineers, the mass of whom stood aloof, screened by the shrubs and plants of the garden. The gate was violently forced by the Sikhs, and the enemy dragged dead and dying, and heaped out of the way. The

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assailants pressed in, and the commotion grew fierce and wild to distraction.

Highlanders and Sikhs, besmeared with blood, trampled over the dead, through the plants and houses. Screams and groans ascended above the uproar. Here mutineers manfully received our soldiers on the point of the bayonet – there threw down their muskets, and fiercely defended themselves with swords. Some threw away their arms and pitifully pleaded for mercy to men infuriated by slaughter – others ran to the inner rooms for shelter, and despairingly clutched at the weapons of the fierce soldiers who pressed in after them. Bullets flew in every direction from friend and foe.

The 53rd regiment, encouraged by the gallant Lieutenant Ffrench, violently smashed through the iron bars of a window, and, with loud screams of victory, added to the tumult, the confusion, and the slaughter. Hoarse calls for help came rom this side – loud and frequent orders to go in and bayonet rom the other – curses, in the most awful words, mingled with imploring voices. A few ran wild through the combatants to end their misery by death. Hundreds were deliberately bayoneted, and pitched, writhing in the agonies of death, into a reservoir. The appalling sounds of cutting, hacking, and stabbing, were heard all round the garden, with the dreadful screams of the combatants. “CAWNPOOR, boys! Remember our women and children. Mercy! No mercy for you!” Miserable creatures! a day of retribution had come.

The mass of dark men moved here, there, backwards, and forwards, trampling down the plants that sent forth their fragrance to nostrils choked with blood – many ran in and out of the rooms, pursued by their fearless and

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merciless foe. The scene was animated and horrible to the utmost degree, when the effect was increased by a conflagration, from which the mutineers struggled on to our weapons, and were thrown back upon the raging flames! Some wretches, as a last resource, sought concealment on the roofs and in the towers, where they were remorselessly followed and chucked dying to the yard below! The strife was obstinately maintained at one tower. Officers and men courageously threw themselves against the door to burst it, and were killed; and another, and another fell in fruitless efforts to enter. Artillery were brought in, and the awful uproar was made more awful by its booming and by crashing walls, as the balls passed through the room of the desperate defenders.

At last the tumult ceased, and the victors walked triumphantly through the blood of the prostrate foe to count their bodies. Two thousand of the enemy covered the ground, lapped one in the other: they were either dead or dying. At one spot the corpses above were moved up and down by the suffocating respirations of the living below! Animate and inanimate nature alike lay bruised on the ground. – The eye encountered dreadful scenes of carnage all over the enclosure. – Seven Europeans effected their escape from the massacres of Sitapur and Muhamdi, and threw themselves on the protection of the Chief of Mythowlee, who treacherously surrendered them to the Begum at Lucknow. Almost at the time that the atrocities of Kanhpur were being avenged in the Sikandarbagh, four of the English captives14 were dragged from their

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prison, bound arm to arm, and barbarously murdered outside the gate of the Kaisarbagh Palace.

Sir Colin Campbell, mounted on his grey horse, was outside the Sikandarbagh, surrounded by his staff, when a Highland officer, excited, tattered, and bloodstained, issued through the gate, and approached the group with a red banner.

“I have killed the last four of the enemy with my own hand, and here, sir, are their colours!” exclaimed the bleeding and agitated Highlander.

“Damn the colours, sir! Where is your regiment? Go back to your regiment, sir! I thank you Colonel Ewart for your zeal and gallantry, but go back to the regiment!”

The romantic fervour of the intrepid Colonel succumbed to so much practical wisdom from the lips of his great Chief; and as he turned to go I handed him a bonnet, for he had dropped his own in the horrid fray within, where he was foremost among the many daring officers who fought that day.

The artillery bombarded the next position of the enemy in the Shah Sujjiff mausoleum. Captain Peel, cool and calm, rolled forward his ponderous guns before a deadly fire. Major William Middleton, with his lighter guns, passed on the right at a gallop, and unlimbered close under the walls. His fine manly figure could be seen through the smoke, and his loud voice could be heard at intervals encouraging his gallant men. Horses and gunners rolled fast in the sand. The fire redoubled on the side of Peel, while Middleton threw shot and shell at the tower from whence the enemy poured their fatal volleys. It was all in vain. The thick hard walls remained unbroken, and the nerve of

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the enemy unshaken. The infantry and guns withdrew, and the foe yelled, and made a feint through the gateway of following.

Sir Colin grew anxious for the result, while I exulted that, by the mercy of Providence, I was by his side humbly to dissipate his apprehensions by making little, perhaps too little, of the opposition still in our way. He was equal to the emergency, and his spirit mounted above the difficulties that threatened the success Of his operations to relieve the garrison. Highlanders and detachments of other regiments were brought to the front, and, under the shelter of some huts, the Commander-in-Chief passionately reminded them of the noble duty to be executed, and assured them of his confidence that their devoted courage would effect it.

Peel, always cool, clever, and courageous, by extraordinary exertion, dragged his guns up to the tower, as if he were “laying the Shannon alongside an enemy’s frigate15.” Brigadier Adrian Hope, and his company of brave Highlanders, approached under a destructive fire from the ramparts. Some of the Chiefs staff joined in the assault. The combatants fired fast and furiously – the killed and wounded increased – Major Alison, Military Secretary, received a bullet obliquely through his arm, and I led him to the rear, where it was at once amputated, – officers and men passed by disabled, – our infantry returned the .fire without success, and Peel thundered with no result. No one spoke his thoughts, but many feared another repulse. Darkness was fast approaching, and Sir Colin was growing anxious again, when the Highlanders mounted a breach discovered by Adrian Hope, and possessed themselves of this strong

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position, as the enemy swiftly disappeared through a doorway towards the river.

The tall and gaunt Sir Hope Grant was to be seen everywhere throughout the day calmly directing the troops. No amount of locomotion fatigued him, and nothing disturbed his equanimity. Darkness brought no rest for this zealous soldier. Adrian Hope, flushed with victory; Greathed, with the glory of Delhi and his gallant march to Sir Colin encircling his head; the handsome Russell, clever and zealous; and Little, of the immortal 9th Lancers, watched at the head of their brigades, whilst the fierce Leith Hay; the cool and portly Hale; Wells, with the Victoria Cross; the intrepid Gordon, and the valorous Barnston, stood longing for daylight by the side of the 23rd, 53rd, 82nd, 93rd, and detachments of the 64th, 78th, 84th, and 90th Foot, and the 2nd and 4th Punjab Infantry, who were under Captain Green, a distinguished officer, and Lieutenant Willoughby, a promising young man, who was afterwards sacrificed at Ruiya by the side of Adrian Hope. Colonel Turner, of the Bengal Horse Artillery, was actively engaged all day, and his intelligent zeal well merited the confidence of his Chief.

The weary troops stood the whole night to their arms, exposed to severe cold, and almost starving. The burning thatched houses in the vicinity threw a soft glare across the plain. Sir Colin lay down late, outside the Sikandarbagh, disturbed by the buzz of large bodies of the enemy who threatened his left flank, and by occasional shots, and the trampling of feet in the garden, as a few of the mutineers attempted to escape through the darkness from their concealment. The glorious old soldier, wrapped in his cloak on the ground, had nobly

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done his duty through a day of intense trial, and my regard grew stronger as I lay by his side watching his stern, puckered features, moving as if in deep thought.

General Mansfield; Colonel Berkely of the 32nd Foot; Major Alison, Military Secretary; Major Norman, deservedly rising to eminence; the tall and manly Hope Johnstone; swift Alison; quiet Forster; swarthy Metcalfe; and sprightly Sir David Baird, rested around him; the strong and elegant figure of General Mansfield being the most remarkable of all those gallant officers, who had, more or less, suffered during the fighting. He had taken a conspicuous part in the day’s proceedings. His calm authoritative demeanour, his handsome person, and intelligent face, indicated the well-bred and accomplished soldier; and it needed little prescience to foresee that he was destined to occupy a prominent place in the affairs of the empire. His varied acquirements and official training fit him eminently for situations of responsibility, and it is a pity that his dignified brevity of manner is misunderstood by persons who overlook his sincerity and earnestness. His cleverness has been of much use to the Commander-in-Chief, who is said to highly appreciate his tact and talents.

Footnotes

13. Pope’s Iliad, book II.

14. Sir M. Jackson, Captain Patrick Orr, Lieutenant Burnes, (a brother of Sir Alexander, who was murdered at Cabool,) and Serjeant-Major Morton.

15. Sir Colin Campbell’s Despatch of the 18th November, 1857.

This collection transcribed by Chris Gage
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