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Chapter 3 – The Seizure of Dehli

May 11

The ride to Dehli

Whilst the Mirath Brigade were bivouacking on the great parade-ground, the troopers of the 3rd Cavalry, scarcely drawing rein on the way, were pricking on, in hot haste, all through the moonlit night for Dehli. And the foot regiments were toiling on laboriously behind them, making rapid progress under the impulse of a great fear. It is hard to believe that on that Sabbath evening a single Native soldier had discharged his piece without a belief, in his inmost heart, that he was going straight to martyrdom. A paroxysm of suicidal insanity was upon them. They were in a great passion of the Present, and were reckless of the Future. But the sound of the carbines and the rifles and the roar of the guns, with their deadly showers of grape and canister, must have been ringing in their ears, and they must have felt that they were lost hopelessly. And now, as they speeded onwards in the broad moonlight, they must have listened for the noise of the pursuing Dragoons, and must have felt, in their panic flight, that the Europeans would soon be upon them. But hour after hour passed, and there was no sound of pursuit; and soon after break of day they saw the waters of the Jamnah glittering in the morning sun, and the great City of Refuge rose encouragingly before them. Before eight o’clock, the foremost troopers had crossed the river by the bridge of boats, had cut down the toll-keeper, had fired the tollhouse, had slain a solitary Englishman who was returning to Dehli across the bridge; and under the windows of the King’s Palace they were now clamouring for admittance, calling upon his Majesty for help, and declaring that they had killed the English at Mirath and had come to fight for the Faith.

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At the Palace

Hearing their cry, the King summoned to his presence Captain Douglas, the Commandant of the Palace Guards. In the Hall of Audience, supporting his tottering limbs with a staff, the aged monarch met the English Captain. Douglas said that he would descend and speak to the troopers; but the King implored him not to go, lest his life should be sacrificed, and laying hold of one his hands, whilst Assan-ullah, the King’s physician, took the other, imperatively forbade him to go down to the gate. Then Douglas went out on a balcony and told the troopers to depart, as their presence was an annoyance to the King. He might as well have spoken to the winds. Baffled at one point, they made good their entrance at another. It was in vain to tell them to close the gates, there were so many; and the guards were not to be trusted. It happened that the 38th Sipahi Regiment was then on duty in the city – that regiment which had successfully defied the Government when it had been designed to send it across the Black Water60. Already they were prepared to cast in their lot with the mutineers. The Calcutta Gate was the nearest to the bridge of boats; but when this was closed the troopers made their way along the road that runs between the palace walls and the river to the Rajghat Gate, which was opened to them by the Muhammadans of the Thauba-Bazaar, and they clattered into the town.

Progress of the Insurrection

Then ensued a scene of confusion which it is difficult to describe. Cutting down every European they could find, and setting fire to their houses, they doubled back towards the Calcutta Gate, where they learnt that Commissioner Fraser, Douglas of the Palace Guards, and other leading Englishmen would be found. As they rode on, with the cry of “Din-Din!” they were followed by an excited Muhammadan rabble. The citizens closed their shops in amazement and terror, and from one end of Dehli to the other, as the news ran along the streets, there was sore bewilderment and perplexity, and everybody looked for the coming of the pursuing Englishmen, and feared that they would inflict a terrible retribution upon the city that had harboured the guilty fugitives. But no English regiments were coming to the rescue. And these maddened Native troopers, with such vile followers as they could gather up in the streets of Dehli,

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were now masters of the city. They knew that throughout all the Sipahi regiments in Cantonments there was not a man who would pull a trigger, or draw a sword, or light a port-fire in defence of his English officer. Without a fear, therefore, they rushed on, scenting the English blood, eager for the larger game, and ever proclaiming as they went glory to the Padishah and death to the Faringhis.

Whilst the Mirath mutineers were coming up from the further end of the long. line of palace buildings, Commissioner Fraser at the other end was vainly endeavouring to secure the loyalty of the Sipahi Guards. Captain Douglas also had gone forth on the same vain errand. But it was soon clear that they were powerless. The troopers came upon them, and the 38th, heedless of Fraser’s appeals, fraternised with the new-comers. Words now were nothing; authority was nothing. In the face of that surging multitude, increasing in numbers and in fury every moment, the English gentlemen felt that they carried their lives in their hands. When the leading troopers galloped up, Fraser and Douglas were in a buggy together; but, seeing the danger that beset them, they descended and made for the gate of the civil guard-house, or police-station, where other Englishmen joined them. Taking a musket from one of the guards, Fraser shot the foremost of the troopers dead, and those who followed, seeing their comrade drop, fell back a little space; but the multitude behind pressed on, and it was soon apparent that safety was to be found only in flight. Fraser then re-entered his buggy and drove for the Lahor Gate of the Palace, whilst Douglas flung himself into the ditch of the Fort, and though severely injured by the fall, thus sheltered from the fire of the enemy, crept towards the Palace Gate. Some Chaprasis of the Palace Guard, who had followed him, lifted him up, almost powerless from the injuries he had received, and one of them took the Captain on his shoulders and carried him into the Palace. Presently Fraser and Hutchinson, the Collector, who had been wounded at the commencement of the affray, arrived also at the Palace61.

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Murder of Mr Fraser

In the apartments occupied by Captain Douglas there were then residing, as his guests, Mr. Jennings, the English Chaplain, Miss Jennings, his daughter, and a young lady named Clifford, a friend of the latter. Mr. Jennings had from an early hour of the morning been watching through a telescope the advance of the Mirath mutineers, and he knew that there was mischief in the wind. Hearing a noise, he went below and found that Captain Douglas had just been brought in and placed on a stone seat in a lower court. Under his directions, Douglas and Hutchinson were carried by some of the Palace Guards up the staircase to the apartments over the gateway62, whilst Fraser remained below, endeavouring to allay the excitement. Standing at the foot of the stairs, with a sword in his hand, the last-named was addressing a noisy crowd, when a man named Mughul Beg, an orderly of the Palace Guards, rushed upon him and clove his cheek to the bone63. The others followed up the attack, cutting at him with their swords, and presently Simon Fraser, Commissioner, lay a corpse at the foot of the stairs.

Murder of the Jenningses

Meanwhile, in the upper rooms, Douglas and Hutchinson were lying in grievous pain, and the Jennings family were ministering to them. The excited crowd, having murdered the Commissioner, now rushed up the staircase eager for the blood of the other English gentlemen. An attempt was made to close the doors at the head of the staircases, but the murderous gang forced their way upwards, streamed into the rooms where Douglas, Hutchinson, Jennings, and the innocent young Englishwomen were listening with dismay to the tumult below, and before a prayer could be lifted up had massacred them with exultant ferocity. It was quickly done. A brief and bloody murder, terrible to

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contemplate, then stained the Dehli Palace; but no circumstances of shameful outrage aggravated the horror of the deed64.

There was then a scene of fearful uproar and confusion, which filled the old King with bewilderment and terror. The murderers, with their blood-stained swords in their hands, went about boasting of their crimes, and calling upon others to follow their example. The courtyards and the corridors of the Palace were swarming with the mutineers of the 3rd Cavalry and of the 38th, and soon the Mirath Infantry Regiments65 began to swell the dangerous crowd, whilst an excited Muhammadan rabble mingled with the Sipahis and the Palace Guards. The troopers stabled their horses in the courts of the Palace. The foot-men, weary with the long night march, turned the Hall of Audience into a barrack, and littered down on the floor. Guards were posted all about the Palace. And the wretched, helpless King found that his royal dwelling-house was in military occupation.

Whilst these events were passing within the precincts of the Palace, in the quarter of the city most inhabited by the English residents, the work of carnage and destruction was proceeding apace. It is not easy to fix the precise hour at which each particular incident in the dreadful catalogue of crime and suffering occurred. But it seems to have been under the meridian sun that the principal unofficial Englishmen in Dehli fell victims to the fury of the enemy.

The Dehli Bank

About noon the Dehli Bank was attacked and plundered, and all its chief servants, after a brave resistance, massacred. Mr. Beresford, the manager of the Bank, took refuge with his wife and family on the roof of one of the outbuildings. And there, for some time, they stood at bay, he with a sword in his hand, ready to strike, whilst his courageous helpmate was armed with a spear. Thus,

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with resolute bravery, they defended the gorge of the staircase, until the assailants, seeing no hope of clearing the passage, retired. to scale the walls in the rear of the house. The attack was then renewed, but still the little party on the roof made gallant resistance. It is related by an eye-witness that one man fell dead beneath the lady’s spear. But to resist was but to protract the pains of death. They were overpowered and killed, and the Bank was gutted from floor to roof.

The Dehli Press

The Dehli Press establishment shared the same fate. The Christian compositors had gathered there, in pursuance of their craft; and never, perhaps, since the first dawn of printing had work been done sadder and grimmer than this – for it was theirs to record in type that the hand of death was upon them. The telegraph had brought in the early morning tidings that the Mirath mutineers were hastening to Dehli, and would soon be at the city gates. Some must have felt then that they were composing their own death-warrants. The little slips of printed paper – Dehli Gazette “Extras” – went forth, and the printers remained to meet the crisis which they had just announced. About midday a crowd of insurgents rushed into the office, killed all the Christian compositors who could not effect their escape, and with clubs and poles destroyed the house and its contents, taking away all the type that they could carry to turn to another and a deadlier use. Everywhere the Christian people were butchered, their property was plundered or destroyed, and then their houses were fired66. The Church was an especial object of the fury of the insurgents. They gloated over the desecration of all that was held in reverence by our Christian people. They tore down and shattered the monumental slabs on the walls; they seized the sacramental plate; then they ascended to the belfry, rang a peal in derision, and, loosening or cutting the ropes, let the bells fall with a crash on the stones below. Meanwhile there was great excitement in the British Cantonments,

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Events in Cantonments

where the Sipahi regiments of the Company were posted. Our military force was cantoned on a ridge overlooking the great city, at a distance of about two miles from it. There had during the preceding week been no symptoms of inquietude among them. Some Native officers from the Dehli regiments had been sitting on the great Mirath Court-Martial; but how far they sympathised with the prisoners cannot be confidently declared. It would have been strange, however, if what had happened at Barrackpur and Barhampur had not been discussed at Mirath, and if the Native officers had not carried back with them that uneasy feeling of the something coming which was rapidly spreading from station to station. It is certain, however, that on the afternoon of the Christian Sabbath, which saw at Mirath the first great baptism of blood, a carriage arrived in the Dehli Cantonments full of Natives, who, though not in regimental uniform, were known to be Sipahis from Mirath67. What was said or done in the Lines on that evening and during the ensuing night can only be conjectured. But the following morning found every regiment ripe for revolt.

At the early sunrise parade of that day all the troops in the Dehli Cantonments – the 38th, the 54th, and 74th Regiments, with the Native Artillery – were assembled to hear the proceedings of the Court-Martial on Isri Pandi, the Barrackpur Jamadar68, read aloud; and as they were read, there arose from the assembled Sipahis a murmur of disapprobation. There was nothing beyond this; but some officers in Cantonments, who had been eagerly watching the signs of the times, felt that a crisis was approaching. At the early breakfast, however, where our officers met each other, after morning parade, at mess-houses or private bungalows, there was the wonted amount of light-hearted conversation and careless laughter. And when they separated, and each man went to his home to bathe and dress, and prepare for the larger breakfast and the business or the pleasure of the morning, it was not thought that the day would differ from other days. But before the work of the toilet was at an end our people were startled by the tidings that the Native Cavalry from Mirath were forcing their way into the city. Native servants and Sipahi orderlies carried the news to their officers, and every man hurried on his

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clothes, feeling that there was work before him. But even then the prevailing idea was that there had been an escape from gaol; no more. No one thought that there was danger to an Empire. If, it was said, the troops at Mirath had mutinied, the strong body of Europeans there – the Rifles, the Carabineers, and the white Artillery – would surely have been upon their track. It was not possible that more than a few fugitives could ever reach Dehli.

Colonel Ripley and the 54th

So argued our officers on the Dehli Ridge, as they listened to the bugle-call and buckled on their swords. The 54th were ordered out for service, and two of De Tessier’s guns were to accompany them to the city. It was necessarily a work of time to get the field-pieces ready for action; so Ripley, leaving two companies to escort the Artillery, marched down to the nearest gate. This was the Kashmir Gate. A little way on the other side of it was the Main-guard, at which some men of the 38th were posted. They had already in their hearts cast in their lot with the mutineers, and when Ripley appeared with the 54th the time for action had come, and they threw off then the last remnant of disguise. The troopers of the 3rd Cavalry, with the insurgent rabble from the town, were surging onwards towards the gate. The 54th, who had brought down their pieces unloaded, now received the order to load; and meanwhile Captain Wallace, acting as field-officer of the day, who had taken command of the Main-guard, ordered the 38th to fire upon the mutineers. To this they responded only with insulting sneers. Not a man brought his musket to the “present.”

This was the turning-point of the great disaster. The 54th were scarcely less faithless than their comrades. They fired in the air, and some, perhaps, fired upon their officers69. After shooting two of the insurgents, Ripley was cut down, and near him fell also the lifeless bodies of Smith and Burrowes, Edwards and Waterfield. When the two companies in the rear approached the Kashmir Gate with the guns, they met Captain Wallace riding in hot haste towards them; he begged them, for mercy’s sake, to hurry on, as the troopers were shooting down our officers. Soon they had ghastly evidence of this dismal truth,

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for the mangled body of their Colonel was being brought out, “literally hacked to pieces.” Paterson then ordered his men to load, and pushed on with all speed to the gate. But the report of the approach of the guns had already awed the mutineers, and when they passed the gate our officers found no trace of the enemy whom they had come to attack, except in the receding figures of a few troopers, who were scampering towards the city. But they found most miserable traces of the preceding conflict, in the dead bodies of their comrades, which were scattered about the place. These were now brought in to the Main-guard, before which the guns had been planted, and the two companies of the 54th posted as a garrison. And there they remained hour after hour, gaining no assured intelligence of the movements of the rebels, and ever cheerful in the thought that aid from Mirath, with its strong European force, must certainly be close at hand.

Major Abbott and the 74th

Meanwhile, Captain Wallace had been directed by Major Paterson to bring up the 74th Regiment with two more guns. Major Abbott, on gaining intelligence of the defection of the 38th, and the doubtful conduct of the 54th, mounted his horse, hastened to the Lines of his regiment, and addressed his men. He told them that the time had come for them to prove that they were true and loyal soldiers; and he called for volunteers to accompany him down to the Kashmir Gate. There was not a man there who did not come to the front; and when the order was given to load, they obeyed it with befitting alacrity. Then they marched down, with two more guns, under Lieutenant Aislabie, and about midday were welcomed by Paterson and his party at the Main-guard. The force at this post had now been strengthened by the return of some Sipahis of the 54th, who had gone off in the confusion, and, having roamed about for some time in a state of bewilderment and panic, had at last turned back to the point from which they had started, hanging on to the skirts of circumstance, wondering what would be the result, and waiting to see whether a retributive force from Mirath was sweeping into the City of the Mughul.

At the Main-guard

Time passed, and the slant shadows thrown by the descending sun were falling upon the Main-guard. Yet still no authentic intelligence of what was passing in the city reached our expectant officers, except that which was conveyed to them by European fugitives who

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sought safety there from other parts of the city. Scared and bewildered they had come in, each with some story of an escape from death, providential – almost miraculous. But there was little room for rejoicing, as it seemed to them that they had been saved from old dangers only to encounter new. At the Main-guard they were surrounded by Sipahis, waiting only a fitting opportunity, to disencumber themselves of the last remnant of their outward fidelity. At any moment they might break out into open revolt, and shoot down the Europeans of both sexes congregated in the enclosure.. It was a time of intense anxiety. It was evident that the insurrection was raging in the city. There was a confused roar, presaging a great tumult, and smoke and fire were seen ascending from the European quarter.

Then there was, at intervals, a sound of Artillery, the meaning of which was not correctly known, and then a tremendous explosion, which shook the Main-guard to its very foundation. Looking to the quarter whence the noise proceeded, they saw a heavy column of smoke obscuring the sky; and there was no doubt in men’s minds that the great Magazine had exploded – whether by accident or design could only be conjectured. But whilst the party in the Guard-house were speculating on the event, two European officers joined them, one of whom was so blackened with smoke that it was difficult to discern his features. They were Artillery subalterns, who had just escaped from the great explosion.

Explosion of the Magazine

The story which it was theirs to tell is one which will never be forgotten. The great Dehli Magazine, with all its vast supplies of munitions of war, was in the city at no great distance from the Palace. It was in charge of Lieutenant George Willoughby, of the Bengal Artillery, with whom were associated Lieutenants Forrest and Raynor, officers of the Ordnance Commissariat Department, and six European Conductors and Commissariat Sergeants. All the rest of the establishment was Native. Early morning work is a condition of Anglo-Indian life, and Willoughby was at the Magazine superintending the accustomed duties of his department, and little dreaming what the day would bring forth, when Forrest came in accompanied by the magistrate, Sir Theophilus Metcalfe, and informed him that the Mirath mutineers were streaming across the river. It was Metcalfe’s

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object to obtain from the Magazine a couple of guns wherewith to defend the Bridge. But it was soon apparent that the time for such defence had passed. The troopers had crossed the river, and had found ingress at the Palace Gate. A brave and resolute man, who, ever in the midst of danger, seemed almost to bear a charmed life, Metcalfe then went about other work, and Willoughby braced himself up for the defence of the Magazine. He knew how much depended on its safety. He knew that not only the mutinous soldiery, but the dangerous classes of Dehli, would pour down upon the Magazine, some eager to seize its accumulated munitions of war, others greedy only for plunder. If, ho thought, he could hold out but a little while, the white regiments at Mirath would soon come to his aid, and a strong guard of English Riflemen, with guns manned by European artillerymen, would make the Magazine secure against all comers. It was soon plain that the Native Establishment of the Magazine was not to be trusted. But there were nine resolute Englishmen who calmly prepared themselves to face the tremendous odds which threatened them, and, if the sacrifice were required, to die beneath the ruins of the Magazine. Cheered by the thought of the approaching succour from Mirath, these brave men began their work. The outer gates were closed and barricaded. Guns were then brought out, loaded with double charges of grape, and posted within the gates. One of the Nine, with port-fire in hand, stood ready to discharge the contents of the six-pounders full upon the advancing enemy if they should find their way into the enclosure. These arrangements completed, a train was laid from the powder-magazine, and on a given signal from Willoughby, if further defence should be hopeless, a match was to be applied to it, and the Magazine blown into the air.

Whilst in this attitude of defence, a summons to surrender came to them in the name of the King. It was treated with contemptuous silence. Again and again messengers came from the Palace saying that his Majesty had ordered the gates to be opened, and the stores given up to the Army. If not, ladders would be sent, and the Magazine would be carried by escalade. Unmoved by these menaces, Willoughby and Forrest answered nothing, but looked to their defences; and presently it was plain that the scaling-ladders had arrived. The enemy were swarming over the walls. At this point all the Natives in the magazine, the gun-lascars, the artificers and others whose defection

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had been expected, threw off their disguise, and, ascending some sloping sheds, joined the enemy on the other side.

The time for vigorous action had now arrived. As the enemy streamed over the walls, round after round of murderous grape-shot from our guns, delivered with all the coolness and steadiness of a practice-parade, riddled the advancing multitudes; but still they poured on, keeping up a heavy fire of musketry from the walls70. Yet hoping almost against hope to hear the longed-for sound of the coming help from Mirath, the devoted Englishmen held their ground until their available ammunition was expended. Then further defence was impossible; they could not leave the guns to bring up shot from the Magazine, and there were none to help them. Meanwhile, the mutineers were forcing their way at other unprotected points into the great enclosure, and it was plain that the Nine – two among them wounded, though not disabled, for the strong will kept them at their posts – could no longer hold the great storehouse from the grasp of the enemy. So the signal was given. Conductor Scully fired the train. In a few seconds there was a tremendous explosion. The Magazine had been blown into the air.

Not one of that gallant band expected to escape with his life. But four of the Nine, in the confusion which ensued, though at first stunned and bewildered, shattered and bruised, made good their retreat from the ruins. Willoughby and Forrest escaped to the Main-guard. Raynor and Buckley took a different direction, and eventually reached Mirath. Scully and his gallant comrades were never seen alive again. But the lives thus nobly sacrificed were dearly paid for by the enemy. Hundreds perished in that great explosion; and others at a distance were struck down by the fragments of the building, or by bullets flung from the cartridges ignited in store. But it was not possible that by any such explosion as this the immense material resources of the great Dehli Magazine should be so destroyed as to be unserviceable to the enemy. The effect of the heroic deed, which has given to those devoted Nine a cherished place in History, can never be exactly computed. But the grandeur of the conception is not to be measured by its results. From one end of India to another it filled men’s minds with enthusiastic

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admiration; and when news reached England that a young Artillery officer named Willoughby had blown up the Dehli Magazine, there was a burst of applause that came from the deep heart of the nation. It was the first of many intrepid acts which have made us proud of our countrymen in India; but its brilliancy has never been eclipsed.

Progress of mutiny in Cantonments

In the British Cantonment on the Ridge a column of white smoke was seen to arise from the city, and presently the sound of the explosion was heard. It was then four o’clock. Brigadier Graves and the officers under him had been exerting themselves to keep together such of the troops as had not marched down to the Dehli City, ever hoping that the Europeans from Mirath would soon come to their relief, and wondering why they were so long in making their appearance. It seemed strange, but it was possible, that the extent of the danger was not apprehended by General Hewitt; strange that it should be necessary to send for succours to Mirath, and yet, as the day advanced and no help came, it clearly had become necessary to appeal for the aid. which ought to have been freely and promptly sent. Then one brave man stepped forward and offered to carry a letter to the General at Mirath. This was Doctor Batson, the Surgeon of the 74th Regiment. The gallant offer was accepted. The letter was written, and placed in Batson’s hands. He took leave of his wife and children, whom he might never see again, disguised himself as a Fakir, and set forth on his perilous journey. But well as he played his part, and able as he was to speak the language of the country as fluently as his own, he had not proceeded far before his disguise was penetrated; the colour of his eyes had betrayed him. He was fired upon by the Sipahis, robbed and stripped by the villagers, and finally cast adrift, to wander about naked and hungry, weary and footsore, passing through every kind of peril, and enduring every kind of pain.

All day long the Sipahis in the Cantonment had been hovering upon the brink of open mutiny. They had committed no acts of violence against their officers, but, like their comrades at the Main-guard, though held back by the fear of the white regiments that were expected from Mirath, they were festering with the bitterness of national hatred, and eager to strike. The ladies and children had been gathered up and sheltered in a

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place known as the Flagstaff Tower71. There two of De Tessier’s guns were posted; but the Native gunners were not to be trusted, and besides the officers, there were only nineteen Europeans, or Christians, in the Cantonment. It was felt that at any moment a crisis might arrive, when nothing but a sudden flight could save the lives of this little handful of our people. The explosion of the Magazine seems to have brought on the inevitable moment, when the last links that bound the Native soldiery to their European officers were to be broken.

Events at the Main-guard

At the Main-guard in the City, as in the Cantonment on the Ridge, the same process was going on in the light of the setting sun. The disaffection of the Dehli regiments had ripened into general mutiny. The last restraints were flung aside under an assumed conviction that the Europeans from Mirath were not coming to avenge their slaughtered brethren. The great national cause was swelling into portentous external dimensions under the inflations of the King and Princes, and others of stronger lungs than their own. Everywhere it had been noised about from early morning that the King was on the side of the mutineers, and that to fight against the English was to fight for the King – to fight for the restoration of the Mughul throne – to fight for the religion of the Prophet. And as the day advanced there were more unmistakable signs that this was neither an invention nor a delusion. The inmates of the Palace, timid, feeble, effete as they were, had plainly risen against the dominant Christian power. The yoke of the Faringhis was to be cast off. The time had come when all the great offices of state would again be filled by the people of the East – by Muhammadans and Hindus,

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under the restored dynasty of the Mughuls. And whilst many were inspired by these sentiments many also were moved by a great lust of plunder; and as the sun neared the horizon, and still there were no signs of the avenging Englishmen on the road from Mirath, massacre and spoliation were safe and easy, and all the scum of Dehli, therefore, was seen upon the surface of the rebellion.

To hold out any longer against such overwhelming odds was now wholly impossible. At the Main-guard the massacre of our people was commenced by a volley from the 38th, delivered with terrible effect into the midst of them. Gordon, the field-officer of the day, fell from his horse with a musket-ball in his body, and died without a groan. Smith and Reveley of the 74th were shot dead72. That any Christian person escaped amidst the shower of musketry that was poured upon them seemed to be a miraculous deliverance. There was now nothing left to the survivors but to seek safety in flight. There was but one means of escape, and that a perilous, almost a hopeless, one. There was an embrasure in the bastion skirting the courtyard of the Main-guard, through which egress might be obtained, and by dropping down into a ditch – a fall of some thirty feet – and ascending the opposite scarp, the slope of the glacis might be gained, beyond which there was some jungle, which might afford cover to the fugitives till nightfall. Young and active officers, not crippled by wounds, might accomplish this; but the despairing cries of some Englishwomen from the inner rooms of the Guard-house reminded them that they could not think wholly of themselves. To remain in the Guard was to court death. The mutineers were not only firing upon our people with their muskets, but pointing their guns at us. The only hope left was a descent into the ditch, but even that was more like despair. So the women were brought to the embrasure, and, whilst in terror and confusion they were discussing the possibility of the descent, a round-shot passed over their heads, and they felt that there was not a moment to be lost. The officers then fastened their belts together, and thus aided, whilst some dropped into the hitch to receive the women, others helped them from above to descend. At last, not without much difficulty,

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aggravated by the terror of the poor creatures who were being rescued, the whole were lowered into the ditch; and then came the still more difficult task of ascending the opposite bank. The steepness of the ascent and the instability of the soil made their footing so insecure, that again and again they were foiled in the attempt to reach the summit. The earth gave way beneath them, and helping men and helpless women rolled back to the bottom of the ditch amidst a shower of crumbling earth. Despair, however, gave them superhuman energy, and at last the whole of our little party had surmounted the outer slope of the ditch, and were safe upon the crest of the glacis. Then they made their way into the jungle which skirted it, and pushed on, some in the direction of the Cantonments, and some in the direction of Metcalfe House.

Escape from Cantonments

Meanwhile, in the British Cantonment on the Ridge, our people had been reduced to the same extremity of despair. The Sipahis had turned upon them and now held possession of the guns. It was no longer possible to defend the place or to keep together even the few Native soldiers who were inclined to remain faithful, under the influence of old habits and personal attachments. Two circumstances, however, were in favour of the English in Cantonments. One was, that the Sipahis at a distance from the Palace and the City were less acquainted with the extent to which the Royal Family and the Muhammadan citizens of Dehli were aiding and supporting the mutineers. The other was, that our officers, being at their homes, had facilities of conveyance – horses, and carriages, and carts – wherewith to carry off their families to Mirath or Karnal, with some provisions for the journey, and perhaps some of the remnant of their household goods. When first they moved off, there was a slight show or pretence of the Sipahis going with them. They fell in to the word of command, and, for a little space, accompanied the departing Englishmen; but soon the columns were broken up, the Sipahis streamed into the Bazaars, and all semblance of discipline was abandoned. Three or four officers, who had remained with them, tried to rally their men in vain. The Sipahis implored them to escape before the rabble from the city burst upon the Cantonment. Already, indeed, the English carriages had been lighted upon their way by the blaze of our burning bungalows. If the officers who were the last to quit the Cantonment could rescue

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the regimental colours, it was the most that they could hope to accomplish73.

The flight from Dehli

So, forth from the Cantonment and forth from the City went our fugitive people. Many narratives of deep and painful interest have been written, descriptive of the sufferings which they endured, and the dangers which they encountered. It has been narrated how they hid themselves now in the jungle, now in the ruins of uninhabited buildings; how they tore off their epaulettes or other bright appendages of their uniform lest they should attract notice by glittering in the moonlight or the sunshine; how they crouched like hares in form, or hid themselves in gaps and hollows; how they were tracked and despoiled by robbers; how they were lured into seemingly friendly villages and then foully maltreated; how they waded through or swam rivers, carrying the women and children across as best they could; how they were beaten and stripped, and sent on their way under the fierce unclouded sun of the Indian summer, without clothing and without food; how they often laid themselves down at night weary, exhausted, and in sore pain, crouching close to each other for warmth, expecting, almost hoping that death would come at once to relieve them from their sufferings; how delicate women and young children struggled on, sometimes separated from their husbands or fathers, but ever finding consolation and support in the kindly and chivalrous ministrations of English gentlemen74. Some made good their way to Mirath, some to Karnal, some to Ambalah. Others perished miserably on the road, and a few, unable to proceed, were left behind by their companions. This was the sorest trial of all that befell the fugitives. It went to the hearts of these brave men to abandon any of their fellow-sufferers who could not longer share their flight. But there was no help for it. So once or twice, after vain endeavours to carry the helpless ones to a place of safety, it was found that, with the enemy on their track, death to the Many must follow further efforts to save the One, and so the wretched creature was left behind to die75.

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But truth would not be satisfied if it were not narrated hero that many compassionate and kindly acts on the part of the Natives of the country relieved the darkness of the great picture of national crime. Many of the fugitives were succoured by people in the rural districts through which they passed, and sent on their way in safety. In this good work men of all classes, from great landholders to humble sweepers, took part, and endangered their own lives by saving those of the hapless Christians76.

May 11–16

Massacre of Prisoners

Whilst these remnants of our British officers, with their wives and children, were thus miserably escaping from Dehli, there were others of our country-people, or co-religionists, who were in pitiable captivity there, awaiting death in a stifling dungeon. These were, for the most part, European or Eurasian inhabitants of the Darya-ganj, or English quarter of Dehli, engaged in commerce or trade. On the morning of the 11th of May, many of these people, hearing that the mutineers were crossing the bridge, gathered themselves in one of the “largest and strongest houses” occupied by our Christian people, and there barricaded themselves. These, however, and others, burnt or dragged out of their houses, escaped death only to be carried prisoners to the Palace, where they were confined in an underground apartment, without windows, and only one door, so that little either of air or light ever entered the dreary dwelling. There nearly fifty Christian people – men, women, and children – were huddled together, scantily fed, constantly threatened and insulted by the Sipahis and Palace-guards, but bearing up bravely beneath the burden of their sorrows. After four or five days of this suffering, a servant of the King asked one of the ladies in the dungeon how, if they were restored to power, the English would treat the Natives; and the answer was, “Just as you have treated our husbands and children.” On the following day they were led forth to die. The Palace-guards came to the prison-door and told them to come forth, as they were to be

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taken to a better residence. Sorely mistrusting their guards, they crowded out of the dungeon. A rope was thrown round them, encircling the party so that none could escape. Then they were taken to a courtyard – the appointed shambles-- where great crowds of people were gathered together to witness the massacre of the Christians. As they stood there cursing the Faringhis and throwing up their jubilant cries, the work of slaughter commenced. It is not easy to tell the story with an assured belief in its truth. It seems, however, that the Nemesis of the 3rd Cavalry was there; that some of the troopers fired with carbine or pistol at the prisoners, but by mischance struck one of the King’s retainers. Then there began a carnage at the sabre’s edge. It is hard to say how it was done. Whether many or whether few swordsmen fell upon the Christians is uncertain77. But, in a brief space of lime, fifty Christian people – men, women, and children – were remorselessly slain78. A sweeper, who had helped to dispose of the corpses, bore witness that there were only five or six men among them. The bodies were heaped up on a cart, borne to the banks of the Jamnah, and thrown into the river.

So there was not, after that 16th of May, a single European left in Dehli, either in the Cantonment or in the City. The British had no longer any footing in the capital of the Mughul. We had been swept out by the great besom of destruction, and Bahadur Shah reigned in our place. Since the days of Siraju’d-daulah and the Black Hole, no such calamity had ever overtaken our people, and never since we first set foot on Indian soil any such dire disgrace. That a number of Christian people should be thus foully massacred was a great sorrow, but that nothing should be done to avenge the blood of our slaughtered countrymen was a far greater shame. The sorrow was at Dehli; the shame was at Mirath. The little band of Englishmen suddenly brought face to face with mutiny in the Lines, insurrection in the City, and revolution in the great teeming Palace of Dehli; who found, as their enemies on that May morning, six mutinous Sipahi Regiments, a hostile Muhammadan population, and the retainers of the old Mughul dynasty,

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with the King’s name as the watchword, and the Princes as the leaders of the many-sided revolt, could not have done much more than they did to stem the tide that was rushing upon them. It was not possible that they should hold out for more than one dreadful day with such a power arrayed against them. Their doom had been sealed in the early morning. When the hoofs of the foremost troop-horse rung upon the bridge across the Jamnah, the death-knell of the British was sounded. From morn to noon, from noon to sunset, still our people were sustained by a strong faith in the manhood of their countrymen, who, at a little distance, had Horse and Foot, and a great strength of Artillery to bring to their succour. But when the sun went down, and there was no sign at Dehli of the approach of the Dragoons or the Galloper guns, they saw that they were deserted, and what could they do but fly?

Question of responsibility

But did the responsibility of this grievous inaction rest with General Hewitt or with Brigadier Wilson? The General has asserted that, as the command of the station was in the hands of the Brigadier, the movement of the troops depended upon him. But when a General Officer, commanding a division of the Army, thus shifts the responsibility on to the shoulders of a subordinate, he virtually seals his own condemnation. When, at a later period, Wilson was called upon by the supreme military authorities for a full explanation of the causes of the inaction of the European troops on the night of the 10th of May, and reference was made to what Hewitt had stated, the former wrote in reply, “I would beg to refer to the Regulations of the Bengal Army, Section XVII., which will show what little authority over the troops is given to the Brigadier commanding a station which is the Head-Quarters of a Division, and that I could not have exercised any distinct command, the Major-General being present on the occasion. As Brigadier, I only exercised the executive command of the troops under the orders of the Major-General.” “I may or may not,” he added, “have been wrong in offering the opinion I did to the Major-General. I acted to the best of my judgment at the time, and from the uncertainty regarding the direction taken by the fugitives, I still believe I was right. Had the Brigade blindly followed in the hope of finding the fugitives, and the remaining portion of the Cantonment been thereby sacrificed, with all our sick, women and

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children, and valuable stores, the outcry against those in command at Mirath would have been still greater than it has been.”

Causes of failure

This, in part, is the explanation of that first great failure, which so perplexed and astounded all who heard of it, and which led to great and disastrous results hereafter to be recorded. The military commanders at Mirath believed that it was their first duty to protect life and property in the Cantonment. The mutinous Sipahis, aided by the escaped convicts, and by ruffians and robbers from the bazaars and villages, had butchered men, women, and children, had burned and gutted the houses of the white people in the Native quarter of the Cantonment, and it was believed that, if due precautions were not taken, the other great half of military Mirath would share the same fate, that the Treasury would be plundered, and that the magazines would fall into the enemy’s hands. To Wilson it was natural that the safety of the Cantonment should be his first care; but Hewitt commanded the whole Mirath Division, including the great station of Dehli, with its immense magazine, and not a single European soldier to guard its profusion of military stores. It needed no breadth of vision, no forecast to discern the tremendous danger which lay at the distance only of a night’s march from Mirath – danger not local, but national; danger no less portentous in its political than in its military aspects. But not an effort was made to intercept the fatal flood of mutiny that was streaming into Dehli. General Hewitt ignored the fact that the whole of the Mirath Division was under his military charge, and thinking only of the safety of the place in which he himself resided, he stood upon the defensive for many days, whilst the rebels of the Lines, of the Gaols, and the Bazaars, were rejoicing in the work that they had done with impunity equal to their success.

But the judgment of the historian would be but a partial – an imperfect – judgment, if it were to stop here. There is something more to be said. Beneath these personal errors, there lay the errors of a vicious system and a false policy. To bring this great charge against one Commander of a Division or another Commander of a Division, against one Commander-in-Chief or another Commander-in-Chief, against one Governor-General or another Governor-General, against this Department or against that Department, would be a mistake and an injustice.

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It was not this or that man that wanted wisdom. The evil lay broad and deep in the national character. The arrogance of the Englishman, which covered him ever with a great delusion, forbidding him to see danger when danger was surrounding him, and rendering it impossible in his eyes that any disaster should overtake so great and powerful a country, was the principal source of this great failure at Mirath. We were ever lapping and lulling ourselves in a false security. We had warnings, many and significant; but we brushed them away with a movement of impatience and contempt. There is a cant phrase, which, because it is cant, it may be beneath the dignity of History to cite; but no other words in the English language, counted by scores or by hundreds, can so express the prevailing faith of the Englishman at that time, as those two well-known words, “All serene.” Whatever clouds might lower – whatever tempests might threaten – still all was “All serene.” It was held to be unbecoming an Englishman to be prepared for a storm. To speak of ugly signs or portents – to hint that there might be coming perils which it would be well to arm ourselves to encounter – was to be scouted as a feeble and dangerous alarmist. What had happened at Barrackpur and Barhampur might well have aroused our people to cautious action. We had before seen storms burst suddenly upon us to our utter discomfiture and destruction; but we were not to be warned or instructed by them. When Henry Lawrence wrote, “How unmindful have we been that what occurred in the city of Kabul may some day occur at Dehli, Mirath, or Bareli79,” no one heeded the prophetic saying any more than if he had prophesied the immediate coming of the Day of Judgment. Everything, therefore, at Mirath, in spite of plain and patent symptoms of an approaching outbreak, was in a state of utter unpreparedness for action. There were troopers without horses, troopers that could not ride – artillerymen without guns, and artillerymen who did not know a mortar from a howitzer, or the difference between round-shot and grape. This was not the fault of Genera] Hewitt or Brigadier Wilson; it was the fault of the system – the policy. The prevailing idea, and one for which there was good warrant, was, that the Government desired that things should be kept quiet. Even to have a battery of artillery equipped for immediate service was held to be a dangerous

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movement that might excite alarm, and, perhaps, precipitate a crisis, which otherwise might be indefinitely delayed. When an officer of Artillery commanding one of the Mirath batteries sought permission, a few days before the outbreak, to load his ammunition-waggons, that he might be ready, in case of accident, for prompt service, he was told that such a step would excite suspicion among the Natives, and that therefore it could not be sanctioned. And this may have been right. The wrong consisted in having allowed things to drift into such a state, that what ought to have been the rule was regarded as something altogether abnormal and exceptional, and as such a cause of special alarm. The policy was to believe, or to pretend to believe, that our lines had been cast in pleasant places; and the system, therefore, was never to be prepared for an emergency – never to be ready to move, and never to know what to do. In pursuance of this system the Commander-in- Chief was in the great playground of Simlah, and the Chiefs of Departments were encouraging him in the belief that the cloud “would soon blow over.” So officers of all ranks in the great Divisions of the Army in the North-West – in the Sirhind, in the Mirath, in the Kanhpur Divisions – did, according to the pattern of Head-Quarters, and according to their instincts as Englishmen; and, therefore, when the storm burst, we were all naked, defenceless, and forlorn, and knew not how to encounter its fury.

It has been contended that a prompt movement in pursuit of the mutineers might not have been successful. And it is right that all circumstances of difficulty should be fully taken into account. Rebellion developed itself under the cover of the night. The mutineers dispersed themselves here and there, and our people knew not whither to follow them.

Question of pursuit considered

The Cavalry, however, must have taken to the road, and where the Native troopers could go our Dragoons might have pursued them; but the former had a long start, and it is said that, as they would have been the first to enter Dehli, they would have destroyed the bridge across the Jamnah; and that, even if our Cavalry and Horse Artillery had made their way into the City, they would have found themselves entangled in streets swarming with an armed rabble, stimulating and aiding the hostile Sipahi Regiments who had been prepared to welcome, and to cast in their lot with their comrades from Mirath. But it is to be

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observed, upon the other hand, that if the troopers of the 3rd Cavalry, who were the first to enter Dehli, had cut off the communication with Mirath, by destroying the bridge, they would have shut out large numbers of their own people, who were pouring, or rather dribbling, into Dehli all through the day. If the Mirath troops had arrived on the banks of the Jamnah in a serried mass under a capable commander, they would, when the whole had passed over, have destroyed the bridge, to cut off the pursuit of the enemy from Mirath. But straggling in at intervals, under no recognised chiefs, this was not to be expected; and, if it had been done, a great part of the Mirath Infantry Regiments must have fallen into the hands of the pursuing Englishmen, and been destroyed by the grape-shot or sabres within sight of the Palace windows.

But the mere military argument in such a case does not dispose of the historical question; for it was from the moral no less than from the material effects of the pursuit that advantage was to be derived. The sight of a single white face above the crest of a parapet has ere now put a garrison to flight. And it may not unreasonably be assumed that, if on that Monday morning, a few English Dragoons had been seen approaching the Jamnah, it would have been believed that a large body of white troops were behind them, and rebellion, which was precipitated by our inactivity, would then have been suspended by the fear of the coming retribution. Unless the Dragoons and Horse Artillery had headed the Sipahis, which was not indeed to be expected, the first sudden rush into Dehli must have occasioned wild confusion, and many lives must have been sacrificed to the fury of the troopers and the rabble of abettors. But the disaster would have been but limited – the defeat but temporary. It is doubtful whether, if the avenging Englishmen had, that morning, appeared under the walls of Dehli, the Sipahi Regiments stationed there would have broken into rebellion; and it is well-nigh certain, that in the presence of the British troops the Royal Family of Dehli would not have dared to proclaim themselves on the side of the mutineers. All through the hours of the morning there was doubt and hesitation both in the Cantonments and in the Palace; and it was not until the sun was going down that it became manifest that Dehli was in the throes of a great revolution. Emboldened and encouraged by what seemed to be the sudden prostration of the English, our enemies saw that their time had come, whilst our friends lost

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confidence in our power and our fortune, and feared to declare themselves on our side. Better in that case for the English soldiers to come to Dehli to be beaten than not to come at all. It was the want of effort at such a moment that did us such grievous harm. For from one station to another the news spread that the Sipahis had conquered the English at Mirath, and proclaimed the Mughul Emperor at Dehli. The first great blow had been struck at the Faringhis, and ever from place to place the rumour ran that they had been paralysed by it80.

Alleged conspiracy for a general rising

There is another question to which, fitly here, a few sentences may be devoted. It has been said that, in looking at this great history of the Sipahi War as a whole, we shall not take just account of it, unless we. consider that, inasmuch as there had been a conspiracy throughout the Bengal Native Army for a general rising of the Sipahis all over the country on a given day, the sudden outbreak at Mirath, which caused a premature development of the plot, and put the English on their guard before the appointed hour, was the salvation of the British Empire in India. Colonel Carmichael Smyth was ever assured in his own mind that, by evolving the crisis in the 3rd Cavalry Regiment, he had saved the Empire. It was his boast, and he desired that it should be made known to all men, that he might have the full credit of the act. And I am bound to say that there is high testimony in support of the belief thus confidently expressed. Mr. Cracroft Wilson, who was selected by the Supreme Government to fill the post of Special Commissioner, after the suppression of rebellion, with a view to the punishment of the guilty and the reward of the deserving, has placed upon record his full belief in this story of a general conspiracy for a simultaneous rising. “Carefully collating,” he has written, “oral information with facts as they occurred, I am convinced that Sunday, 31st of May, 1857, was the day fixed for mutiny to commence throughout the Bengal Army; that there were committees of about three members in each regiment which conducted the duties, if I may so speak, of the mutiny; that the Sipahis, as a body; knew nothing of the plans arranged; and that the only compact entered into by regiments, as a body, was, that their particular

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regiments would do as the other regiments did. The committee conducted the correspondence and arranged the plan of operations, viz., that on the 31st of May parties should be told off to murder all European functionaries, most of whom would be engaged at church; seize the treasure, which would then be augmented by the first instalment of the rubbie harvest; and release the prisoners, of which an army existed in the North-Western Provinces alone of upwards of twenty-five thousand men. The regiments in Dehli and its immediate vicinity were instructed to seize the magazine and fortifications. ... From this combined and simultaneous massacre on the 31st of May, 1857, we were, humanly speaking, saved by Lieutenant-Colonel Smyth commanding the 3rd Regiment of Bengal Light Cavalry, and the frail ones of the Bazaar81. ... The mine had been prepared, and the train had been laid, but it was not intended to light the slow match for another three weeks. The spark, which fell from female lips, ignited it at once, and the night of the 10th of May, 1857, saw the commencement of a tragedy never before witnessed since India passed under British sway82.”

This is strong testimony, and from a strong man – one not prone to violent assumptions or strange conjectures, who had unusual opportunities of investigating the truth, and much discernment and discrimination to turn those opportunities to account. But the proofs of this general combination for a simultaneous rising of the Native troops are not so numerous or so convincing as to warrant the acceptance of the story as a demonstrative fact. It is certain, however, that if this sudden rising in all parts of the country had found the English unprepared, but few of our people would have escaped the swift destruction. It would then have been the hard task of the British nation to reconquer India, or else to suffer our Eastern Empire to pass into an ignominious tradition. But, whether designed or not designed by man, God’s mercy forbade its accomplishment; and in a few hours after this first great explosion the Electric Telegraph was carrying the evil tidings to all parts of the country. The note of warning was sounded across the whole length and breadth of the land; and wherever an Englishman was stationed there was the stern preparation of defence.

Footnotes

60. See ante, vol. i.

61. All this is necessarily given upon Native evidence, adduced at the trials of the King of Dehli and Mughul Beg. In some respects the statements are contradictory. One witness says that Mr. Hutchinson accompanied Captain Douglas; another that he arrived with Mr. Fraser. A third says, that as soon as Captain Douglas was able to speak, he ordered his Chaprasis to search for Mr. Hutchinson and bring him into the Palace.

62. Some statements are to the effect that Mr. Jennings and Mr. Hutchinson carried Douglas upstairs.

63. Here, again, there is discordant evidence. On the trial of the King, it was more than once stated that the first blow was struck by one Haji, a lapidary or seal-engraver, who (according to one witness) “inflicted a deep and mortal wound on the right side of his neck.” But at the trial of Mughul Beg, five years afterwards (1862), it was stated by one Bakhtawar Singh that he “saw the prisoner inflict the first wound which was on Mr. Fraser’s face.” Another witness, Kishan Singh, also stated, “I saw the prisoner strike the first blow.”

64. It was stated, and for some time believed, that the English ladies had been dragged before the King, and either murdered in his presence or by his orders, and some highly dramatic incidents have been published illustrative of this complicity of the Mughul in the first murders. But there is not the least foundation for these stories. On the other hand, it is on evidence that Captain Douglas, shortly before his death, sent a message to the King, requesting him to send palanquins to remove the ladies to the Queen’s apartments, and that he did so – but too late.

65. There is considerable diversity of statement relating to the hour at which the Mirath Infantry Regiments arrived.

66. “Private houses were entered by troopers (their horses being held at the gates of the gardens), who said that they did not come for loot but life, and when they were disappointed in their greed for European life they let in the budmashes of the city, who, in the space of half an hour, cleared out the best-regulated houses from punkah to floorcloth. They then either set fire to the house, or, if it were not of an inflammable nature, they pulled out the doors and window-frames, &c., in some cases the beams from the roofs.” – Mr. Wagentreiber’s Narrative.

67. See evidence of Captain Tytler at the trial of the King of Dehli.

68. Isri Pandi had been hanged on April 22nd. – Ante, vol. i. p. 429.

69. There seems to be some doubt about the conduct of the 54th in this first collision. It is stated, however, that Colonel Ripley declared that his own men had bayoneted him.

70. The assailants appear to have been principally Sipahis of the 11th and 20th Regiments from Mirath.

71. This Flagstaff Tower became afterwards very celebrated in the history of the siege of Dehli. On the 11th of May it was little better than a “Black Hole.” The scene within the tower is thus described by an eye-witness: “Here we found a large number of ladies and children collected in a round room some eighteen feet in diameter. Servants, male and female, were huddled together with them; many ladies were in a fainting condition from extreme heat and nervous excitement, and all wore that expression of anxiety so near akin to despair. Here were widows mourning their husbands’ murder, sisters weeping over the report of a brother’s death, and some there were whose husbands were still on duty in the midst of the disaffected Sipahis, of whose fate they were as yet ignorant. It was a Black Hole in miniature, with all but the last horrible features of that dreadful prison, and I was glad even to stand in the sun to catch a breath of fresh air.” – Mr. Wagentreiber’s Narrative.

72. “The latter (Reveley) had a loaded gun in his hand; he quietly raised himself up with a dying effort, and, discharging both barrels into a knot of Sipahis below, the next moment expired.” – Lieutenant Vibart’s Narrative.

73. The last to quit the Cantonment were, apparently, Colonel Knyvett of the 38th, Lieutenant Gambier, Captain Peile, and Captain Holland.

74. And nobly the women played their parts, and not always as the weaker vessels. One published narrative relates how two ladies – Mrs. Wood and Mrs. Peile--saved a wounded officer, the husband of the former, who could not have moved onward without their support.

75. See Lieutenant Vibart’s Narrative.

76. Mr. Williams, in his official report, gives a list – but not a complete one – of the Natives who succoured the Dehli fugitives. See also narrative of the escape of Captain T. W. Holland: “There being no milk in the village, one Paltu, sweeper, or others of his family, used daily to take the trouble to go to procure some from adjacent villages.” Again: “I remained with Jamnadass (a Brahman) six days. He gave me the best part of his house to live in, and the best food he could,” &c., &c.

77. One statement is to the effect that a hundred or a hundred and fifty men fell upon them with their swords; and another is, that two swordsmen did the entire butchery by themselves.

78. A woman (Mrs. Aldwell) with three children escaped by feigning Muhammadanism.

79. See ante, vol. i. p. 332.

80. There is an expressive Hindustani word in very common currency among both Europeans and Natives on the Bengal side of India – “lachar,” or helpless. It was currently said that the English were lachar.

81. Ante, Chapter II.

82. Mr. J. C. Wilson’s Muradabad Narrative (Official), Dec. 24, 1858.

This collection transcribed by Chris Gage
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