The Mutiny of the Bengal Army/Chapter 3

by George Bruce Malleson

CHAPTER III.
FROM THE DISBANDING OF THE 19TH REGIMENT TO THE REVOLT AT MEERUT.

The 19th were disbanded, and in the opinion of the Government a lesson had been thereby read to the Sepoys which they would not easily forget. They argued that Lord Ellenborough, by the disbandment of a regiment in 1844 (the 34th Native Infantry), had repressed a mutiny; and that Sir Charles Napier, by a similar measure in 1849, had effected the same end; quite oblivious of the fact, that the entire circumstances were dissimilar, and that both those statesmen had followed up their disbanding orders by others. But the Indian statesmen who were at this time in power affected to sneer both at Lord Ellenborough and at Sir Charles: their pattern statesman was Lord Dalhousie (the real author of the mutiny), and they chuckled at the ease with which they had (to their own satisfaction) disproved the vaticinations of that nobleman's rival. Colonel Birch, in particular, was especially gleeful on this occasion. He—the man of whom Sir Charles had made a laughing-stock!—had he not by a single movement effected all that Sir Charles Napier had been able to bring about by twenty general orders? So at least he thought, or professed to think. All was confidence, superciliousness, and self-congratulation on the part of the Government officials! But although the Government was satisfied, the public was ill at ease. Symptoms were showing themselves throughout India, which the oldest Indian officers had never witnessed before. It was evident to them that some great movement was in progress, although they were not in a position either to fathom its causes or to avert its consequences. The bare hint of such an idea to Colonel Birch was sufficient to expose one to an outpouring of ridicule. That official's pluck at this epoch could not be questioned.

In the meantime, in April, the Sepoy, Mungul Pandy, had been brought to trial, and condemned to death. He made no confession, but stoically accepted his fate in the presence of all the troops at the station. The jemadar who commanded the guard of the 34th on the 29th March, and who had prevented that guard from assisting Lieutenant Baugh, had also been tried and condemned to death. The sentence, however, owing to some red-tape informalities originating with Colonel Birch, was deferred, most prejudicially to the public interests, to the 21st April. On that day the jemadar was brought to execution, and was hanged. Immediately before his death he harangued those around him, confessing the justice of his sentence, and warning others from following his example.

With this execution the Government appeared to rest satisfied. The atrocious conduct of the men composing the guard on the 29th March, evinced by their not only conniving at the attack upon their officer, but by themselves assaulting him and the Sergeant-major as they lay wounded on the ground, was quite overlooked. The Government appeared "satisfied of the loyalty of the 34th Regiment." Indeed, so convinced did they seem to be of the loyalty of every regiment in the Bengal Army, that at the end of the month of April they determined to send the 84th Foot back to Rangoon, and actually engaged transports for that purpose!

The Government came to this conclusion when in possession of reports from the commanding-officers of the different stations in India, which would have convinced any unprejudiced man that the whole army was ripe for revolt. At Agra the incendiarisms had been frequent, and the Sepoys had refused their aid to subdue the flames; at Seealkote, letters had been discovered from the Barrackpore Sepoys, inciting their brethren at that distant station to revolt. At Umballah, the discontent had been so marked that the Commander-in-Chief himself had been compelled to assure the Sepoys that their apprehensions regarding their caste were groundless. At Lucknow, the Sepoys of the 48th, incensed at their doctor for tasting a bottle of medicine previously to making it over to the sick man, and construing that act into an attempt against their caste (although the system had been prevalent for an hundred years), had taken their revenge by burning down his bungalow. At Benares, too, a very strong feeling of disaffection had been evinced: in fact, there was scarcely a regiment in the Bengal Army which had not shown itself ripe for revolt. Still the Government professed themselves confident, and actually issued orders to the 84th to re-embark for Rangoon.

The truth is, they were in a panic, and, like weak men in that situation, they attempted to hide it from their friends by the assumption of a bullying manner, whilst they effectually showed it to their enemies by vain attempts at conciliation. Hence the wretchedly weak measure of sparing the guard of the 34th, who had beaten their officers; they actually feared to incense them, and believed they were acting the part of statesmen by saving them from condign punishment. Little did they know the native character! That very act, miscalled an act of mercy, tended more than anything else to convince the conspirators that the Government was afraid to strike, and encouraged them still further to develope their plans.

It has since transpired, that soon after the attack upon Lieut. Baugh had been reported to the Government, it had been determined to disband the 34th, and that an order was at the time drafted in which this resolution was announced. For upwards of three weeks that order was kept back. In whose possession it remained it is impossible now to state; but this fact is certain, that for upwards of a month the men of the 34th, including those who had assaulted Lieut. Baugh, were allowed to believe themselves trusted by the Government.

The fact is, that the advisers of the Governor-General, being for the most part members of the Civil Service, refused to recognise these disloyal symptoms as overt acts of mutiny; they endeavoured to persuade Lord Canning that they were mere partial and local disturbances, which should be met rather with conciliation than with severity. In truth they were unwilling to admit, even to themselves, that their own domination, extending over an hundred years, had completely failed in attaching even one section of the population to British rule. If they had previously been called upon to declare the class upon which they would most firmly rely in case of need, they would have named Jack Sepoy; they had pampered, petted, and indulged him until they thought they had made sure of him; they had, in their love of power, wrested the control over him from their military officers, by the encouragement of appeals from their decisions, and vested an overwhelming power in the Supreme Government themselves; they had witnessed his devotion to his officer when sub-ordinated to him alone, and they imagined that the transfer of the subordination to themselves would have ensured the transfer the devotion also. They knew that the Sepoys were the mainstay of order throughout the country, that they represented the feelings of the entire population of Oudh, of Behar, of Gwalior, the Punjab, Nagpore, and Hydrabad: that so long as they were contented, the people would remain passive, if not altogether satisfied. The Sepoy, in fact, was their barometer, and they were unwilling to believe the steady indication of a cyclone. They would not even admit to themselves that their house was founded upon sand, liable to be levelled to the ground by the first storm.

And it is certainly true that they had little other surety for the tranquillity of the country than the fidelity of the Sepoy. Attached by education, training, and hereditary policy to the principle, "India for the Civil Service," they had steadily discouraged the settlement in the land of that other element which, in a crisis like that which, in spite of themselves, they felt approaching, might have formed a countervailing barrier to Mahomedan or Hindoo rebellion. Had independent Europeans been encouraged to invest their capital in the land of India; had not the terrors of subjection to a Hindoo or Mahomedan magistracy been held over their heads to prevent such a catastrophe (to the Civil Service); had they been allowed the smallest exercise of political power, or had the way to that power been open to them, an independent body of landholders would have arisen, who would have formed the connecting link between the Government and the natives, and also have been able, from their numbers and organisation, to have checked any outbreak on the part of the people of the country. But it was very evident that such a measure could not have been accomplished without invading the exclusiveness of the Civil Service. Hence it has always been (with the brilliant exception of Lord Metcalfe, who had thoroughly at heart the interests of India,) systematically opposed by the members of that body. Their policy has ever been to shut out independent Europeans from the country. To carry out this end they have encouraged the trade in opium, whilst they have neglected purposely the cultivation of cotton; they have restricted as much as possible public enterprises which necessitated settling in the land; and although this policy has resulted in a wide-spread rebellion, it will never be lost sight of so long as the rule exists that a man, were he to possess the highest administrative abilities, would be debarred from their exercise, because he did not in the first instance come out to India as a member of the Civil Service.

True to this policy they, as stated above, affected to make light of the discontent in the native army, and persuaded Lord Canning to view matters in the same light. The determination to disband the 34th was accordingly postponed, in the hope that affairs would settle down quietly, and that no further interference on the part of Government would be needed. In pursuance of this plan the 84th were ordered to re-embark for Rangoon.

In a few days they would have started, and the long-wished-for opportunity would have been afforded to the mutineers; when, providentially, an event occurred at Lucknow which suddenly disturbed, although even that failed to rouse the Government from their apathetic attitude.

At Lucknow, the capital of Oudh, the conduct of the native troops had been for some time past in the highest degree disorderly. Nightly meetings and consequent conflagrations had been of frequent occurrence. The city had always been the hotbed of intrigue, and no efforts had been spared on the part of the agents of the King of Oudh to corrupt the native soldiery. On intelligence of the disbanding of the 19th Native Infantry reaching that city, the king's brother intimated to the native troops, that as they now saw the extent of the punishment awarded for mutiny, he was prepared to give service at a similar, or even an increased rate of pay, to all who might be discharged by the Company! The consequence was, that the troops at that station were on the verge of open revolt. Most fortunately for India, the Commissioner of Oudh, Sir Henry Lawrence, was a man who would not suffer himself to be deterred by any consideration from acting with vigour and determination. He was, without doubt, the ablest man in India. It was he who had laid the foundation of that administration in the Punjab, which had in so short a period developed the capacities of that noble province. For Oudh he was the very best ruler that India could produce. Versed in civil matters, he had to repair in the first instance the egregious errors perpetrated by his predecessor, Mr. Coverly Jackson, a red-tapist of the school of Messrs. Grant and Beadon. As a military man, he found himself suddenly called upon to check a rising mutiny. In that respect he has done marvels. At the moment of my writing (29th June), although the whole province of Oudh has risen against him,—a province larger than England,—he, with a handful of Europeans (500 men), holds Lucknow, the most disaffected city in India! He has proved himself a real man, indeed! How does his conduct contrast with that of Colonel Birch, Mr. Grant, and the other advisers of the Governor-General? It will be seen that his measures were successful, because they were totally opposed to the ideas of those who administered the Supreme Government of India.

Sir Henry Lawrence had not been an idle spectator of the movements amongst the troops at Lucknow, and he resolved to visit the first overt act of mutiny with condign punishment. An opportunity was not long wanting. On the 3d of May a letter from the 7th Oudh Irregular Infantry (formerly in the service of the ex-king) was intercepted and brought to him. This letter was addressed to the men of the 48th Regiment, and its purport was as follow:—"We are ready to obey the directions of our brothers of the 48th in the matter of the cartridges, and to resist either actively or passively." This letter was taken to a Brahmin Sepoy of the 48th. He communicated its contents to a havildar, and the latter to a subahdar. The three consulted over it, and resolved to bring the matter to the notice of the Commissioner. This was done. About the same time Sir Henry received intimation that the 7th Irregular Infantry had proceeded to overt acts against their officers; and although none of them had been murdered, that result was more owing to their own courage than to the forbearance of the mutineers. The Adjutant, Lieut. Mecham, owed his life pre-eminently to his presence of mind. Four mutineers entered his house on the afternoon of the 3d, and told him to prepare for death; that personally they did not dislike him, but that he was a Feringhee, and must die. Lieut. Mecham was unarmed; they were armed to the teeth. Resistance was hopeless. He at once made up his mind to meet his fate with dignity and resolution. As the mutineers paused to listen to what he had to say, he replied, "It is true I am unarmed, and you can kill me; but that will do you no good. You will not ultimately prevail in this mutiny. Another Adjutant will be appointed in my place, and you will be subjected to the same treatment you have received from me." These words, delivered with coolness, without change of countenance or the movement of a muscle, seemed to strike the mutineers. They turned and left the house, leaving their Adjutant uninjured!

Tidings of these mutinous acts reached Sir Henry Lawrence on the evening of the 3d. Without a moment's delay, he ordered out Her Majesty's 32d Foot, the 13th, 48th, and 7lst Native Infantry, the 7th Cavalry, and a battery of eight guns, manned by Europeans, and proceeded at once to the lines of the mutineers, distant about seven miles. Darkness had set in before he arrived there; but so prompt had been his movements, that the 7th were completely taken by surprise. They were instantly ordered to form up in front of their lines. In the presence of a force so imposing, they had no resource but to obey. The infantry and cavalry were then formed on either side of them, the guns within grape distance in front. The 7th, completely cowed, awaited their doom. They were ordered to lay down their arms: they obeyed. At this moment the artillery portfires were lighted. A sudden panic seized them, with the cry, "Do not fire! do not fire!" Mad with terror, they rushed frantically away, cowed into repentance. The ringleaders, and most of their followers, were secured that night by the native cavalry and infantry, and were confined pending trial.

Thus easily was suppressed the first mutiny at Lucknow. It has since transpired that the whole of the 71st, and very considerable portions of the 48th Native Infantry and 7th Cavalry, sympathised with the mutineers. Had Mr. Grant's and Col. Birch's plan, adopted by Lord Canning, of coquetting with mutineers, of giving in to them, of fearing to strike, of merely dismissing men for attacking their officers (an offence for which many European soldiers have suffered death); had, in fact, a delay occurred at Lucknow similar to that which occurred at Barrackpore in dealing with the 34th—a delay of three weeks—then, in all probability, that night or the following would have seen all Lucknow in revolt. It may be said that the troops subsequently did revolt. It is true; but they gave Sir Henry Lawrence nearly a month to prepare himself; and he proved that he was not the man at such a crisis to waste even an hour. When the revolt which had long been foreseen did come, every preparation which it was possible for human foresight to devise had been made. The consequence was, that the mutineers were baffled; Sir Henry kept Lucknow, and still keeps it, though the whole of Oudh, almost the whole of India, is in arms against him. Had the revolt of the 30th of May occurred on the 3rd, there could have been but one result—our European troops would have been surprised, and every European resident murdered.

On the 4th of May the electric telegraph conveyed to the Supreme Government of India at once the account of the mutiny at Lucknow and of its suppression. A new book was in that act opened for Lord Canning's perusal, and he profited by it. The conduct of the men of the 34th at Barrackpore had been characterised by a sullen doggedness which could not be misconstrued: they were evidently watching their opportunity. When called upon to name the men of the guard who had attacked Lieut. Baugh and the Sergeant-major, they had steadily refused. Their officers, with one, or, perhaps, two exceptions, had declared before a Court of Inquiry that they had lost all confidence in their men. Some, unconnected with the regiment, attributed their conduct to the ill-judged zeal for proselytism evinced by their commanding officer, Colonel Wheler; but this, although it may have acted as an additional item in the balance against us, was scarcely the main cause of their ill-feeling. They were, in fact, thoroughly corrupted—more influenced even by the agents of the King of Oudh than by fears for their religion. A bad feeling at this time prevailed amongst all the regiments at Barrackpore. A jemadar of the 70th had been caught in the lines urging his men to revolt. He was tried and sentenced by a Court, composed of native officers like himself, to simple dismissal. This sentence was approved and confirmed by the Commander-in-Chief in India. To the jemadar himself it was no punishment at all. He owed four hundred rupees; and this dismissal eased him at once of his commission and his debt! But the effect upon the Sepoys is indescribable. "This," they said, "the only punishment for mutiny! They are afraid of us—we can do what we like."

There can be no doubt that the men of the 34th and of other regiments at Barrackpore only waited the departure of Her Majesty's 48th Foot from Chinsurah. They knew that that regiment had come up from Burmah, lightly equipped; that it would, in all probability, return thither soon; the rumour of their immediate departure was prevalent amongst them: they therefore waited, and would have waited with good purpose, but for the providential occurrence of the meeting of the 7th Irregular Infantry at Lucknow.

That mutiny, and the mode in which it was quelled by Sir Henry Lawrence, excited the admiration of Lord Canning. It also spurred him on to follow an example so nobly set. The account of the mutiny reached him by electric telegraph. It was not yet known in Calcutta or Barrackpore; the news would, however, be widely spread by the 8th or 9th. It was most desirable to act before that time; it was, indeed, essential. A blow must be struck. Upon the 34th, as the most guilty parties, it was resolved that it should fall. The order for the 84th to re-embark for Rangoon was at once rescinded; they were directed to proceed to Barrackpore on the 5th of May; the wing of the 53rd and two batteries of Artillery were also ordered there, and a message was despatched the same evening to the officer commanding at that station, directing him to parade all the troops at the station on the following morning, to read to them an order by the Governor-General therewith enclosed, and to conclude by paying up and disbanding the whole of the 34th Native Infantry who had been present in the lines during the outrage of the 29th of March.

On the morning of the 6th of May, accordingly, the troops were paraded, the order was read, the men were paid up and disbanded. None who were on the ground that morning and heard that order read—none who, in Calcutta, read that order at the same moment that they learned the fate of the mutineers, can ever forget the lamentable effect it produced, the universal impression it infused amongst all ranks, that the Government was absolutely afraid to punish. In this order the infamous conduct of the 34th was detailed at full length; their outrage upon their officer, the sullen apathy of the whole regiment on that occasion, their unconcealed sympathy with the murderer, were all dwelt upon in forcible language; but the punishment, the retribution for mutiny and connivance at murder, what was that?—simple disbandment! Even on the men of the guard, who looked on the attack with sympathy, and even followed it up by striking the wounded men as they lay on the ground, no severer punishment was inflicted. Punishment!—it was no punishment at all. The Kings of Delhi and Oudh had offered them a national service and a higher rate of pay, and the road to these was opened to them by their disbandment.

But the Governor-General was not content even with such a demonstration of weakness. Judging him from his written proclamations, he appeared desirous to impress upon the minds of the native army that the 34th had been guilty of a very venial offence; for he wound up his order—an order which he desired to be read at the head of every regiment, troop, and company in the service—by informing the army, that if they still refused to trust in their officers and the Government, and still allowed suspicions to take root in their minds, and to grow into disaffection, insubordination, and mutiny, their punishment, too, would be "sharp and certain." Sharp and certain as what?—as the punishment awarded to the 34th? The Bengal Army proved, by their after-conduct, that they wished for nothing better!

However, the order was read, and the men was disbanded. Did they express the least contrition for their offence? Did they show the smallest regret at leaving their officers and their colours? One incident, slight but significant, will suffice to show. They were allowed to keep their Kilmarnock caps, as they had paid for them. Before crossing the river, after having been paid up, many of them were seen to take off their caps, dash them on the ground, and trample them in the mud; they would not carry away with them the smallest reminiscence of their service to the Company!

The 19th and 34th, the only two regiments of the Bengal Army who, up to this moment, had been guilty of overt acts of mutiny, had now been disbanded, and the Government fondly imagined that disaffection had been dismissed with them. Two orders of the Governor-General had distinctly intimated to the native troops, that the Governor-General had neither the desire nor the intention to interfere with their religion or their caste, and it was believed that these orders, coupled with the disbandment of the 19th and 34th, would have the best possible effect.

The men of the 34th had assaulted their officer on the 29th of March; punishment was meted out to them on the 6th of May. This interval of five weeks was not lost on the men of the Bengal Army. Throughout India every eye had been turned towards Barrackpore, to ascertain what fate would befall that regiment which had encouraged a murderous attack on one of its officers. For five weeks they looked, and looked in vain. It is true that the murderer himself and one of his sympathisers had been hanged, but less than that the Government could not do, without entirely abdicating its functions; otherwise all was quiet; the regiment had not even been rebuked for its share in the crime. The universal impression consequently prevailed amongst the Sepoys that the Government could not do without, and feared to punish them.

That these feelings would not have become modified by listening to the order published by the Governor-General, on the disbandment of the 34th, may be imagined from the fact, that when it reached Lucknow, Sir Henry Lawrence, one of the best judges of native character in India, refused to allow it to be read to the native troops, being of opinion that it would hasten rather than repress an outbreak.

At Meerut, disaffection had been more plainly manifested than in any other station in the North-western provinces. A rumour had been spread amongst the troops by means, it cannot be doubted, of the agents of the King of Oudh, that the Government had plotted to take away their caste, by mixing the grounded bones of bullocks with the flour sold in the market; that thus the Hindoo, partaking inadvertently of the substance of the deified animal, would find himself compelled to embrace Christianity. It was in vain that General Hewitt and the commanding officers of regiments attempted to combat these ideas; it was fruitless that they pointed out to the Sepoys, that during a century's occupation of India no interference with caste had ever been tried. Left to themselves, the Hindoos might possibly have been pacified by these assurances; but they were urged on by the Mahomedans, who pretended similar fears for their own religion. The disbandment of the 19th, did nothing to allay the discontent, whilst the impolitic delay which intervened between the crime of the men of the 34th and their punishment served greatly to increase it. During the latter end of April this discontent showed itself in the usual manner. Houses were burned down, officers were not saluted as usual, and whispers were heard that a resolution had been arrived at in the lines not to touch a single cartridge.

To such a height were these manifestations carried, that it appeared advisable to bring them to the test. In the presence at the station of two European regiments, the 60th Rifles and the 6th Carabineers, besides two troops of Horse Artillery and a light field battery, General Hewitt had, or thought he had, a sufficient force to repress on the instant any act of open mutiny. He was resolved, therefore, that the Sepoys should see that he was there to give orders, they to obey them. A parade of the 3d Cavalry was accordingly ordered for the morning of the 6th of May. On the evening of the 5th, cartridges, the old cartridges of the kind which they and their fathers had always used, were served out to them. Eighty-five men in the regiment at once stepped out and refused to take them. They were subsequently offered, and again indignantly refused. But one course remained to the Brigadier. The men were confined, brought to a court-martial composed of native officers, and by those native officers condemned to periods of imprisonment with hard labour, varying from six to ten years.

In the meanwhile, impressed by the consequences resulting from Sir H. Lawrence's vigour and promptitude, the Government had sent instructions by telegraph to the commandants of the principal stations in India, directing that sentences pronounced on mutineers, whatever might be their nature, should be carried out at once, that no delay might be caused by a reference to army head-quarters. General Hewitt, therefore, prepared to carry out the sentences pronounced on the mutineers of the 3d Cavalry at the earliest possible moment. The condemned mutineers were placed under an European guard, composed of two companies of the 60th Rifles and twenty-five men of the Carabineers, and a general parade was ordered for the morning of the 9th. At day-break on that morning,^[1] all the troops in the station, leaving the guards standing, paraded on the 60th Rifle parade-ground; the Carabineers, the 60th Rifles, the 3d Light Cavalry, the 11th and 20th Regiments of Native Infantry, a light field battery, and a troop of Horse Artillery. The Carabineers and the Rifles were then ordered to load and be ready, and the Horse Artillery the same. This done, the mutineers were marched on to the ground; the European troops and Artillery guns being so placed, that the least movement of disaffection or insurrection would have been followed by instant slaughter. The mutineers were in uniform when marched on to the ground; they were then stripped of their clothes and accoutrements; and the armourers' and smiths' departments of the Horse Artillery being in readiness, every man was ironed and shackled for ten years' imprisonment on the hard roads, with the exception of five, whose period of bondage was only six years. These unfortunate wretches looked miserably crest-fallen and depressed, and many of them, putting up their hands, appealed to the General for mercy. None, of course, was vouchsafed, and the work went steadily on until all had been heavily-ironed. The 3d Cavalry looked very much humbled, mounted with their swords drawn and sloped, silent spectators of the doom of their comrades. When the ironing had been completed, the prisoners reproached their comrades for allowing the punishment to be carried out. It is now evident, that an understanding existed between the culprits and the native soldiery, both infantry and cavalry, at Meerut; that these latter had sworn not to allow the sentence to be carried into effect. The sight, however, of the loaded guns and the two European regiments was sufficient to chill their ardour; at all events, the prisoners were carried away, and they made no sign.

Had it been deemed advisable still to keep the prisoners under an European guard, the natives might have been overawed, and all yet have gone well; but apparently the necessity for such a deviation from the usual course of procedure did not suggest itself to the authorities, and the mutineers were made over manacled to the civil authorities. By these they were lodged in the jail—a building some two miles distant from the cantonment, and guarded entirely by native burkundazes.

Meanwhile the native troops returned to their lines, furious with pent-up indignation. There can be no doubt that on that afternoon they matured their plans for a rise; messengers were dispatched to Delhi, to inform the regiments there of the projected move, and to warn them to be ready to receive them on the 11th or 12th. They resolved to rise on the evening of the following day (Sunday), whilst the Europeans should be in church, to release their imprisoned comrades, fire the station, and to slaughter every man, woman, or child, pertaining to the Christian community. The originators of this plan were the men of the 3d Cavalry; but they found the men of the 20th Regiment as eager as themselves to join in any insurrection. Not so, however, with the 11th Native Infantry. This regiment had but recently arrived in the station, and whether sufficient opportunity had not been afforded for corrupting them, or for some other unexplained reason, they hung back, and expressed a decided disinclination to join in any attack on their officers. They did not, however, betray the secret.

All this time the authorities were unsuspicious: the havildars made the morning report to their officers; the men of the European Regiment attended morning service as usual, and there was no sign of the coming storm. The day passed away as Sundays generally pass in India, and not even the sergeants, who live in the native lines, had noticed anything to call for report, or even for remark. Evening church-time was approaching: the 60th Rifles were turning out with their side-arms to proceed thither; officers, too, were dressing either for church or for an evening ride. Sepoys! restrain your impatience for half-an-hour longer, and Meerut is your own. Providentially they cannot restrain it. Suddenly the alarm of fire is given; then there is loud shouting, as if the Sepoys were turning out to quench the flames. But, then, that volley of musketry, followed by another and another! those discordant yells! that clattering of cavalry! the bugle sound of the alarm! It is not fire only that has caused this direful outcry—it is mutiny!—insurrection!—THE BENGAL ARMY HAS REVOLTED!

It was nearing five o'clock on that memorable afternoon when, at a given signal, the 3rd Light Cavalry and the 20th Native Infantry rushed out of their lines, armed and furious. A detachment of the former regiment at once galloped in the direction of the jail. On reaching it, its gates were opened to them without resistance, and they at once liberated all its inmates, including their imprisoned comrades: a native smith was at hand to strike off their irons. These men, infuriated by their disgrace, ran with all possible speed to their lines, armed themselves, and mounted; they then rushed to the scene of action, yelling fearfully, and denouncing death to every European. Meanwhile the remaining portion of the 3rd Cavalry and the 20th Native Infantry had proceeded to the lines of the 11th with all possible speed. Thither also the officers of that regiment, alarmed by the shouting and noise, had gone before them. They found Col. Finnis haranguing his men, and endeavouring to keep them firm to their colours. The men were wavering when the 20th arrived. The men of this regiment, whose hands were already red with the blood of several of their own officers, seeing this hesitation and its cause, at once fired at Col. Finnis. The first shot took effect on his horse only, but almost immediately afterwards he was riddled with balls. All discipline, all better feelings, now vanished. It is true that the Sepoys of the 11th permitted their officers to escape with their lives; but having done this, the greater portion of them followed the example of the 20th. And now ensued a scene of disorder, rapine, and murder which pen cannot describe. Every house and building near the lines, except the hospital, had been fired; and the smoking and blazing barracks and houses, the yells of the mutineers, and the shouts and shrieks of the multitude gathered there, numbers of whom fell from the shots of the mutineers, made on that dark night a scene than which one cannot be imagined more horrible.^[2] Officers galloping about, carrying orders to the European troops, were fired at, not only by the mutineers, but by the native guards placed over the public buildings for security. Ladies driving in their carriages, gentlemen in their buggies, who had left their houses unsuspicious of evil, were assaulted, and if not murdered, treated with a brutality to which death would have been a relief. Not only the Sepoys, but the released jail-birds, fifteen hundred in number—the population also, that "vile rabble" which is always available for plunder or murder, had joined the movement, and spread terror and desolation all around them. Nor were houses or public offices safe places of refuge from these assaults. Most of the houses in Meerut—all of those in the military lines—are thatched with straw, and easily inflammable: the plan of the insurgents was to set fire to the roof, and to murder the frightened residents as they quitted the burning dwelling. Many met their deaths in this way; more, providentially, escaped: yet not one of those in the latter category owed their safety to the mercy of their assailants. In some instances outrages were perpetrated which the pen refuses to record. These men, whom we had pampered for a century, who had always professed the utmost devotion to us, seemed suddenly converted into demons. Nor was this a solitary example; other stations were destined to witness atrocities fouler, more brutal, and more treacherous than even those of Meerut.

Meanwhile unaccountable delay occurred in turning out the European troops, and night had set in before the Carabineers arrived on the parade-ground of the 11th Native Infantry. They found there the 60th Rifles and Artillery waiting for them. Their arrival was the signal for a move against the rebels. They found, however, that by this time their work of destruction within the station had been completed, and that they had betaken themselves to the Delhi road. Thither they followed them. The night, however, was too dark, and the movements of the insurgents too uncertain, to permit our troops to act with vigour. A portion of the rebels were, it is true, found in a wood, and shots were exchanged between them and the 60th Rifles. The Artillery, too, fired upon and dispersed them; but it was considered that nothing more effective could be done; that fifteen hundred jail-birds, maddened with the taste of blood, were at large, and might still inflict incalculable damage on the station; and that, at such a crisis, the presence of the troops was absolutely required there. These, at least, are all the reasons that can be imagined (for none have hitherto been assigned) for the languid pursuit of that evening. One fact is clear, that the rebels were not followed up with any vigour, and that, after seeing them clear of the station, the troops returned to the scene of the outbreak of the mutiny, and there bivouacked. The night was spent "in taking precautions against attack, and in measures preliminary to strengthening the place, so as to secure it, if the troops should be compelled to leave it."^[3]

The horrors of that fearful night could scarcely have been surpassed. The rebels, it is true, had been driven away, but the liberated prisoners and the rabble continued their fearful work. It is true that European sentries were posted, with all possible celerity, in the different parts of Meerut; and the constant fire of their rifles showed that their presence was necessary. Still, in spite of all precautions, foul deeds were even then perpetrated. To every one it was a night of agonising suspense. Husbands had missed their wives, and wives their husbands; infants had been separated from their mothers, and mothers from their children. Many passed the night, depending entirely on the fidelity of their native servants; and it is gratifying to state that, in more than one instance, that fidelity was proof. To this source Mr. Greathed, the commissioner, and his wife, owed their safety. Their house—a flat-roofed one, fortunately—was one of the first attacked by the Sepoys. On the first alarm they fled to the roof; thither, on the least intimation from the servants, the Sepoys would have followed them: but these persisted in the story that they had left the house; and the mutineers, after searching every room, at last believed them and went away. The courageous action of the ayah, or female servant, in the service of Captain and Mrs. Macdonald of the 20th Regiment, must here be recorded. She had heard the alarm, and had perceived the blood-stained mutineers advancing towards her master's house. Unable to save him or her mistress, she seized their two children, and concealing them as well as possible, carried them to a place of safety. They never saw their parents again. Subsequent experience has shown that the "brave and loyal Sepoy" does not disdain treating children of one and two years of age with the most cruel barbarity.

How that night passed with those poor sufferers, they alone can tell. The day at length dawned, and the sun shone on dismantled Meerut. Their worst sufferings were over; the houseless were sheltered, and order was in some degree restored. Thenceforth they were safe from further attack, and could watch the progress of the avalanche by which they had been almost overwhelmed.

As soon as it was ascertained that the mutineers had taken the road to Delhi, only forty miles distant from Meerut, messengers were despatched to intimate the fact to Brigadier Graves, commanding at that station. The situation of this officer was full of peril. Besides the officers and sergeants of the native corps, he had not a single European under his command. The garrison consisted of the 38th, 54th, and 74th Regiments, Native Infantry, and a battery of Native Artillery. The men of these regiments had hitherto shown no symptoms of disaffection; but the 38th was the corps which had so successfully defied Lord Dalhousie in 1852, and the men of it had ever since been impressed with the idea that the Government was afraid of them. The British rule in India seemed to be staked on their fidelity, and Brigadier Graves must have felt that the issue would at least be doubtful. But he was not the man to give way to despair under any circumstances; and he at once resolved to make the most of the means at his disposal.

The approach to Delhi from Meerut is defended by the little river Hindun, which is traversed by a small bridge. On receiving intimation of the movements of the rebels, the Brigadier's first idea was to cut away the bridge and defend the river. But there were two objections to this plan. The first was, that at the season of the year, the height of the hot weather, the river was easily fordable, and his position on the other bank might be turned. The second, that in case of their attempting that manœuvre, he would be compelled to fight (even if his men continued stanch) with the rebels on his front and flank, and the most disaffected city in India, the residence of the descendant of the Mogul, in his rear. This plan, therefore, was abandoned almost as soon as conceived, and he determined to content himself with defending the city and cantonments as best he could. As this might endanger the lives of the non-military residents, intimation was conveyed to them to repair to the Flagstaff Tower, a round building of solid brickwork, well capable of defence, and at some distance from the city. In many instances that intimation never reached those for whom it was intended, by some it was received too late, but by none was it wilfully disregarded.

Meanwhile the regiments were ordered out, the guns loaded, and every possible preparation made. The Brigadier harangued the troops in a manly style; told them that now was the opportunity to show their fidelity to the Company to whom they had sworn fidelity, and by whom they had never been deceived. His brief, pithy address, was received with cheers. The 54th, especially, seemed eager to exterminate the mutineers, and loudly demanded to be led against them.^[4] The Brigadier, responding to their seeming enthusiasm, put himself at their head, and led them out of the Cashmere Gate to meet the rebels, whose near approach had been announced. As they marched out in gallant order, to all appearance proud and confident, a tumultuous array appeared advancing from the Hindun. In front, and in full uniform, with medals on their breasts gained in fighting for British supremacy, confidence in their manner, and fury in their gestures, galloped on about two hundred and fifty troopers of the 3rd Calvary: behind them, at no great distance, and almost running in their efforts to reach the golden minarets of Delhi, appeared a vast mass of Infantry, their red coats soiled with dust, and their bayonets glittering in the sun. No hesitation was visible in all that advancing mass; they came on, as if confident of the result. Now the Cavalry approach nearer and nearer! At this headlong pace they will soon be on the bayonets of the 54th. These latter are ordered to fire; the fate of India hangs on their reply. They do fire, but alas! into the air; not one saddle is emptied by that vain discharge. And now the Cavalry are amongst them; they fraternise with them; they leave the officers to their fate; and these are remorselessly cut down wherever they can be found!

It was too true, indeed! The bold and confident bearing of the rebels was thus accounted for; the Delhi troops, too, had been corrupted. In shouting to be led against the mutineers, they had acted a part which to Asiatics is familiar from their youth, but which Englishmen accustomed to them all their lives have never been able to comprehend. All was now over with Delhi. The enraged troopers, accompanied by the greater part of the 54th, the other arrivals from Meerut, and gaining fresh recruits at every step from the 38th and 74th, dashed into the city, shooting in their progress all the Europeans they met with. Many of them pointed to the marks left by the manacles on their legs, as if to justify their atrocities. Not a Christian whom they could lay hold of was spared, and on the women death was the smallest of the barbarities inflicted. The Governor-General's agent, Mr. Simon Frazer, and Captain Douglas commanding the palace guards of the titular King of Delhi, were cut down in the very precincts of the palace. Mr. Jennings, the chaplain, and his daughter, were seized when making their way to the king for his protection. They were brought before the monarch—a man the descendant of the house of Timour, born our pensioner and ever treated by the English Government with marked liberality. "What shall we do with them?" inquired the enraged troopers of the king. "What you like; I give them to you!" was the reply. This man and the King of Oudh were at the bottom of the conspiracy: it was thus that the former repaid British generosity.

Meanwhile Brigadier Graves, rallying a few men who had remained faithful, retreated to the Flagstaff Tower. Here he found a vast assemblage of ladies and gentlemen—all, in fact, who had received or who had been able to comply with his intimation. Here also were stationed a company of the 38th and two guns; and so great was the strength of the tower that it was imagined that these men, if they remained faithful, might hold it against the enemy. But when the Brigadier addressed them, it became evident that their hearts were with the rebels, and that they only waited an opportunity to join them.

A remarkable occurrence, a feat of gallant devotion, unsurpassed in any age or country, brought the matter quickly to a crisis.

The Delhi magazine, situated in the very heart of the city, contained at this time immense stores of ammunition;^[5] it was in charge of Lieut. Willoughby, a young Artillery officer. Of him, as the writer had the pleasure of a slight acquaintance with him, he may be allowed to say a few words. He was a young man of modest unpretending worth; his mother, if I may be pardoned for mentioning her, (for she still lives), is a lady possessing very superior accomplishments, a refined taste, and a generous disposition. All these young Willoughby had inherited. Those who met him in society might pronounce him shy and reserved, for so he appeared to strangers; to appreciate him, it was necessary that he should be known intimately; and by those to whom that gratification was extended, his generous sentiments and steadfast principles were rated at their real value. There was nothing showy about him, all was sterling gold. He sought on every occasion the path of duty, and he followed it careless of the consequences. I am fully sensible of the feebleness of my pen when endeavouring to render homage to his merits; the deed I am about to chronicle speaks for itself, and will, I am certain, ensure for him at least the enthusiastic recollection of his countrymen to never-ending time.

Young Willoughby, in common with others, had heard of the approach of the rebels, of the insurrection of the troops sent out to check them, and of their rush upon the city. In the heart of the city was the magazine, and that building contained stores which would enable their possessors to arm all the extent of the wall of Delhi against an enemy. This consideration decided him; his duty was clear—that magazine should not fall into the hands of the rebels. The consequences to himself he little recked; they would most likely be fatal. There was, it is true, a subterranean passage, of which he might avail himself; but even there the effects of an explosion would probably be felt. He was convinced, that after the first desire for blood was glutted, there would be a rush to secure the stores in the magazine; there he could await the insurgents, and there should they find their doom.

It turned out as he predicted: on they came, red with gore, infuriated with slaughter: in the meanwhile he had laid the train and stood ready to fire it. Not for an instant did his coolness desert him; not for a second, when he placed in the balance his own life against theirs, did he hesitate; he thought only of the consequences to the rebels and to his countrymen hereafter. Gradually the place was filling, and yet the portfire was not applied. Now, now it is full—they are struggling for admittance, it will contain no more; and now he stoops, the steady hand is applied, the slow-match burns,—a few seconds, then a puff of white smoke,—an immense cloud of red dust—an explosion—and the bodies of two thousand^[6] rebels are hurled into the air!

And he! where was he, the gallant author of the deed? Scorched, maimed, bruised, almost insensible, he still had life. How he escaped, how he afterwards got away, I cannot tell; but I read in the paper of this morning (1st July) that he had died of his injuries at Meerut. Let us hope that his death,—the death of one so young,—so gallant, so devoted to his country, will be still more terribly avenged. Will it be so? I cannot say. The proclamation of Mr. John Colvin, the Lieutenant-Governor of the North-west Provinces, offering pardon to these villains, is yet unrepealed!

To those assembled at the Flagstaff Tower this explosion could have but one meaning: it plainly told, or seemed to tell, that the rebels had penetrated into the heart of the city, and would be upon them before long: it had, at all events, the effect of deciding the movements of the company of the 38th. The men, previously hesitating, now became actually hostile, and, taking possession of two guns which had been sent up to increase the defences of that position, they prepared to point them against the tower. It was now evident that nothing more could be effected: the troops, almost to a man, had revolted; the jail-birds, as at Meerut, had been released; the Delhi population, composed principally of ignorant and bigoted Mahomedans, were up in arms: this intelligence would shortly be conveyed to the surrounding inhabitants, who were chiefly Googiers, a race of savage marauders, and by them escape would be cut off. Not an instant was to be lost. Brigadier Graves perceived this, and advised every one to escape as best he could: his own conscience was clear: he had done his duty, and now that the inevitable hour of departure had arrived, he remained, the last to leave the ancient capital of the Mogul. Some on foot, others crowded in carriages, a few riding, the remnants of the Europeans left Delhi: their fate has yet to be related: some who were for six weeks afterwards despaired of have since turned up living; their adventures have to be told: the great proportion of them, we know, met with all but insurmountable difficulties and dangers, and the escapes of many remind one of the supernatural. Up to the date of writing but few authentic accounts have been received, but sufficient is known to make us long for the time when the story of each individual's adventures can be published.

Meanwhile the rebels reigned supreme in Delhi. Undismayed by the loss incurred at the magazine, perhaps thereby rendered more furious, they ruthlessly pursued every Christian. The officers' bungalows were all entered and searched: they were not, in a single instance, pillaged by the Sepoys: they significantly remarked that they wanted only life. Their deeds, too, have yet to be recorded and revenged. Language cannot describe the bitter animosity or the savage cruelty evinced by those who, up to a recent period, had been the chief pillar of British supremacy!

It will be sufficient to add, that from the first moment the King of Delhi showed sympathy with the revolters: the Europeans, who fled to him for refuge, he handed over to their tender mercies: their several regiments he called after the names of his sons; he proclaimed himself Emperor of India; and, after the first few days of disorder he appointed Lall Khan, a subahdar of the 3d Cavalry, commander-in-chief of his army. He threw for a great stake, and has more than once been within an ace of winning it.

To show how the revolt at Meerut gave the signal for a general rise over India; how successively the troops at Ferozpore, at Benares, at Allahabad, and at Cawnpore, in the provinces of Oudh and Rohilcund, rose against us, and for a time achieved success; how the atrocities of Meerut and Delhi were surpassed by those of Oudh and Allahabad, will be my task on a future occasion. I shall then be able to prove, if indeed proof be required, (for I hope and believe that the people of England will have already judged and decided), how, up to the very last moment, the members of the Government, true to their principle of "India for the Civil Service," refused to open their eyes to the magnitude of the danger, and endeavoured as much as possible to conceal its extent from Lord Canning; how, in pursuance of this policy, they rudely declined to take precautions against a rising of the troops at Barrackpore, until an accident disclosed a plan which was to have been executed on the following day for murdering every European; how, in spite of their miserable policy, Calcutta has three times been providentially preserved when on the very brink apparently of destruction; how, notwithstanding their assumed blindness to the public danger, the principal civil servants of Government took most extensive precautions for their own security. I shall also show how precisely the same policy was pursued in the North-west provinces; how Mr. John Colvin, when the massacres of Meerut and Delhi were fresh in the recollection of all, offered free pardon to the rebels on the sole condition of their laying down their arms; how, up to this hour, no official proclamation has been published disavowing that act; how by its operation many mutineers, laden with plunder and red with the blood of our countrymen, have found their way to their homes.

I shall then ask if the people of England will permit this policy to be further carried out; whether they will allow India still to remain an appanage of the Civil Service? This noble country has been under the rule of that service for a century: the present insurrection is the inevitable result of that domination. They have had no root in the land; their interests have not been the interests of the people of India. We have lately seen how, in many parts of the country, the Indigo planters, men like Mr. Venables, Mr, Saunders, Mr. Chapman, have actually not only held their own factories, but have rescued the magistrates and others from the insurgents: in some instances the Commissioners have been compelled to invest them with magisterial powers. Whence was their authority derived? In what lay the secret of their immunity from outrage? The answer is plain: they are owners of the soil; their interests are the same as those of the population. These, then, are the men who ought to be made magistrates, in place of unfledged boys, ignorant of the people and imperfectly acquainted with the language of the country.

The last act of the Government has, as much as any other, exposed the "courage and capacity" of our civil administrators. So long as there was real danger they pretended to ignore it; but no sooner had the crisis passed away, than, looking back at it, appalled at its magnitude, they fell into a panic. They determined on a vigorous demonstration, one which should strike terror into the hearts of all. The question was, Whom they should attack? The rebels, unfortunately, were beyond their reach; Barrackpore was quiet. But a demonstration was necessary. They could not attack the national enemy, so they resolved to assault the declared antagonists of the principle, "India for the Civil Service;" and in pursuance of this plan, they actually persuaded Lord Canning to go down to the Legislative Council, suspend all the standing orders, and in the course of forty minutes to abolish the freedom of the Press!!!

Take the present members of the Government of India, the Members of Council, and the Secretaries; try their powers, analyse their abilities, and with the single exception of Mr. Edmonstone, there is not one of them whose capacity can be rated higher than that of an average lawyer's clerk; had their lot not been cast in "the pleasant places" of an exclusive service, few of them would have been able to earn an independent livelihood!

It is easy, therefore, to imagine why they should have been jealous of a Press which did not recognise their pretensions to an exclusive possession of intellect, but that such men should have subordinated Lord Canning to their views appertains to the marvellous. Lord Ellenborough would have used them to his own purposes; they have moulded Lord Canning to theirs!

With terrible anxiety do the independent Europeans wait the decision of the people of England regarding the future government of India. It is a most momentous question, fraught with all-important results for good or evil, not only to the independent Europeans, but to the millions of native inhabitants! For the good of all, it is essential that the exclusive Civil Service should be abolished!

I cannot, however, conclude this part of my narrative without paying the homage which is due to those civil and military servants who have in every respect deserved well of their country. Sir Henry Lawrence at Lucknow, and his brother Sir John Lawrence in the Punjab, have, in this crisis, not only nobly sustained their great reputation, but have risen to a height in public estimation beyond which it is impossible to ascend. Sir Henry especially has, with the smallest means at his disposal, effected the greatest marvels. With five hundred Europeans he has held the most disaffected city in Asia, and kept at bay the inhabitants of a province larger than England! Sir Hugh Massey Wheeler, at Cawnpore, has successfully defended a barrack containing two hundred Europeans against thousands of natives thirsting for their blood. Messrs. Gubbins and Lind, and Colonel Neil, at Benares, have done all that men could do in their circumstances. I mention the names of these illustrious men in this place, not with the vain hope of doing them justice here, but to show that my pen is not entirely dipped in gall—that I wish to speak impartially of all, irrespective of the service to which they belong.

At a future and not very distant occasion I hope to produce a fully detailed narrative of their deeds.

One word on the subject of Army Reform. That subject is now under the consideration of the Government of India, but as their plans must be primarily submitted to the Court of Directors and the Board of Control, they will doubtless be subjected to alteration according to the expressed sentiments of the people of England. I will only say on this occasion, that the Brahmins have proved that they cannot be trusted with arms: the Mahomedans, too, have shown that they cherish in their hearts the proselyting doctrines of their religion, and that us Christians they will ever detest, and take advantage of every opportunity of destroying Europeans.

We shall therefore be compelled to adopt an entirely new system; of this, one necessary feature must be a large increase to the purely European force: this is indispensable. Then the whole of the Bengal Army—at least the regiments which have not mutinied—should be disbanded, and re-organised on a new footing: the rank of native officer should be abolished; promotion by merit directed; the pension establishment, which has failed in its purpose, should be done away with.

Those Regiments which, few in number, have not mutinied or been disarmed, might be allowed to retain their arms; their numbers be reduced to 800 men, and they should always be quartered with Europeans. The practice of living in lines should be forbidden, but barracks similar to those of the European troops should be provided. To each company, in lieu of native officers, who have proved themselves either mutinous or incompetent, two steady European non-commissioned officers should be attached. They should live in the barracks with the men, though separated from them, and should keep the keys of the bells of arms.

Supposing twenty more European regiments to be added to Bengal, there might be twenty native regiments of the nature I describe. Not a Brahmin should be admitted; they should be composed chiefly of low-caste Hindoos and Sikhs. The Goorkhas should remain as they are, unmixed.

The men of the regiments thus re-formed should never be sent on escort duty; they should remain cantoned with Europeans, and should be constantly brigaded and exercised with them.

To carry on other duties, mere police duties, such as escorting treasure and commissariat stores, other regiments should be raised, under the denomination of Police Corps. To these fire-arms should not be entrusted. A short sword and an iron-bound club should be their weapons; they should be paid at a lower rate than the others, and should not be allowed to rank as soldiers.

As a preliminary measure it will be necessary, merciless as it may sound to English ears, to hunt down every mutineer. India will not be secure so long as a single man remains alive. Since I commenced this page, details have been received of the merciless slaughter of upwards of an hundred unarmed ladies—women and children flying for a place of refuge. These are our sisters and your sisters, people of England! And ought their murderers to be spared, perhaps pensioned? Yet, canvass Calcutta at this moment—inquire from civilians, merchants, and military men, and the all but universal answer will arise, that at the hands of our Government—a Government comprehending such men as Messrs. Dorin, J. P. Grant, Beadon, and Birch, there will be the same shrinking from severe punishment, the same paltering with mutineers, the same truckling to rebels, by which their measures, up to the present moment, have been fatally marked.

Dii avertant omen!

END OF PART I.

1. I am indebted to the talented correspondent of the Calcutta Englishman for the graphic account of this morning's proceedings.
2. Correspondent Bengal Hurkaru.
3. Correspondent Bengal Hurkaru.
4. Private account.
5. The official account of the blowing of the Delhi magazine differs somewhat from that given above, which was necessarily compiled from accounts written by people who were in another part of the station when the event happened. It is given in this edition in an Appendix.
6. The numbers are variously stated from 1500 to 3000.