John Nicholson, the Lion of the Punjaub

by R. E. Cholmeley

"One by one dropped through into the narrow street below."

But though safety for a time had been gained, the chances of ultimate escape seemed hopeless. The houses were filled to overflowing with sepoy soldiers and camp followers, men, women, and children, and when by and by the large guns of the fortress were trained upon them the slaughter was very great. The British officers, it is stated, expected nothing less than death. They even began to burn the regimental colours to prevent them falling into the enemy's hands.

In this extremity the Afghan leaders made fresh proposals of honourable treatment on surrender, and Colonel Palmer at last consented to yield. How Nicholson regarded this move was very clear. In his anger at the base treachery he had witnessed he would have fought to the last gasp ere trusting again to the word of an Afghan. When the command came to surrender he refused to obey, and it is recorded that he "drove the enemy thrice back beyond the walls at the point of the bayonet, before he would listen to the order given him to make his company lay down their arms." Then, with bitter tears, he gave up his sword, and allowed himself to be made prisoner.

Of the five months' captivity at Ghuzni, from March to August 1842, we learn most from Lieutenant Crawford's narrative. From the first the prisoners were treated miserably. The British officers—ten in number—were confined in a small room "only 18 feet by 13," and for several weeks deprived of any change of clothing. What possessions they had were taken from them by their guards; watches, money, and jewellery, and even their pocket-knives, thus being lost to them.

Only one officer succeeded in retaining a cherished trinket, and this was Nicholson himself. Captain Trotter, who records the incident,[1] quotes from a letter sent by Nicholson to his mother in which the writer says, "I managed to preserve the little locket with your hair in it … and I was allowed to keep it, because, when ordered to give it up, I lost my temper and threw it at the soldier's head, which was certainly a thoughtless and head-endangering act. However, he seemed to like it, for he gave strict orders that the locket was not to be taken from me."

The severities of the confinement increased when in April news came of the death of Shah Soojah at the hands of an assassin, and the little prison in the citadel became almost a second "Black Hole of Calcutta." The one window was shut and darkened, making the air of the room unbearable. To add to the horror of the situation, Colonel Palmer was now cruelly tortured before his comrades' eyes, one of his feet being twisted by means of a tent peg and rope. This was done in the hope that he or some one of his fellow-captives would reveal the hiding-place of a phantom "four lakhs of rupees," which the Afghans declared the British had buried in the vicinity.

But in June came a change for the better. The prisoners were now allowed to sleep out in the open courtyard in the postins, or rough sheepskin coats, supplied them. Two months later they learned that they were to be sent to Cabul, where Dost Mahomed's son, Akbar Khan, was keeping captive Lady Sale, Mrs. Sturt, George Lawrence, Vincent Eyre, and other Europeans. The exchange was a welcome one. Slung in camel panniers, they were jolted along the rough country roads for three days, arriving in the Afghan capital on the 22nd of August, when they were generously dined by the chief and his head men.

The quarters in which the party were now housed, together with Lady Sale and the other survivors of the Cabul massacre, were a paradise compared to their former lodging. They had a beautiful garden to walk in, servants to wait upon them, and an abundant supply of food. Their satisfaction, however, was shortlived. In a few days the prisoners were hurried off to Bamian, in the hill country to the north-west, and thence to Kulum. The reason for this move was apparent. Generals Pollock and Nott had already commenced their victorious advance upon Cabul, and Akbar Khan resolved to keep his captives as hostages for his own safety.

To Nicholson and his companions it looked as if their fate was sealed, but a ray of hope dawned for them. The Afghan officer in charge of their escort showed himself ready to consider the offer of a bribe. A bond was eventually drawn up ensuring him a handsome recompense for his services did he lead them to safety, and in the middle of September they found themselves once more free.

Late one afternoon the rescue party sent to their aid by General Pollock met them toiling along the dusty road on the other side of the Hindu Kush mountains. Within a few hours they were safe inside the British lines.

Nicholson duly marched with the main army to Cabul, and had the satisfaction of seeing the Afghan capital suffer the punishment it justly merited. On the way home, however, he experienced the first great loss in his life. His youngest brother, Alexander, who had but recently joined the Company's service, was killed in the desultory fighting outside the city, and to Nicholson fell the sad duty of identifying the boy's body as it was found, stripped and mutilated, by the roadside.

[1] Life of John Nicholson.

CHAPTER III.

ONE OF LAWRENCE'S LIEUTENANTS.

The three years that John Nicholson had spent in India had left their mark upon him. The stripling had grown to man's stature. He was now full six feet in height, black-haired and dark of eye, and with a grave manner which the exciting experiences he had passed through had intensified. Many people found the young officer too cold and austere for their liking, but the haughty demeanour which characterised him in reality covered a warm and sympathetic nature, of which those who were admitted into his intimacy were fully aware. By this time he had made several notable friends, including Major George Lawrence (brother of the future Lord Lawrence), and a subaltern in the 16th Native Infantry, named Neville Chamberlain, who was to make a great name for himself in the stirring days to come.

To such as had followed his career Nicholson had come through his baptism of fire with flying colours. He had shown himself possessed of high courage, and had won admiration as much for his fortitude in captivity as for his bravery in action. So far, indeed, the life of a soldier had suited him; he was now to see the other side of the shield and experience the peaceful but monotonous existence in cantonments at Meerut and Moradabad.

In this distasteful period of inaction, he applied himself diligently to the study of native languages, and was able to report to his mother ere long that he had passed the interpreter's examination. What also eased the irksomeness of his situation was his appointment as adjutant of his regiment. The new duties that fell to his lot gave him plenty of employment.

But the reign of peace was destined to be short. In the autumn of 1845 came the first signs of a great rising among the Sikhs, whose territory was divided from the British by the river Sutlej. This warlike nation had reached the height of their power under the famous Ranjit Singh. After his death no fit successor was found to rule in his place, and the turbulent soldiery quickly found an excuse to rebel against the British Government which held them in check by the troops massed upon the frontiers.

War was declared in November. In the following month occurred the battles of Moodkee and Ferozeshah, in which General Sir Hugh Gough was victorious over the Sikh army. At these fierce engagements Nicholson was present as a commissariat officer, and not, to his regret, as a combatant. Some weeks later followed the victories of Aliwal and Sobraon, which resulted in the youthful Prince Dhuleep Singh, the avowed head of the Sikhs, making his submission, and gave the British a foothold in the Punjaub.

By one clause of the treaty which was concluded, the province of Cashmere was ceded to us, but shortly afterwards it was made over to the Maharajah Gholab Singh of Jummu for the sum of one million sterling. At the request of the Maharajah, the Government now selected two officers to assist the new ruler in keeping his subjects in order, their choice falling on Captain Broome of the Bengal Artillery and Lieutenant Nicholson. The latter owed this step to Henry Lawrence, to whom he had been already introduced and upon whom he had made a distinct impression. Colonel Lawrence himself had succeeded Major George Broadfoot,[1] the distinguished political agent for the Punjaub, and was installed as British Resident at Lahore.

The ostensible reason for the appointment of Broome and Nicholson was the need for drilling and disciplining the Cashmere army, but they soon found that their presence was required by the Maharajah simply to show that he had the support of the British. It was highly desirable that a display of such friendship should be made, for the Sikh inhabitants did not take at all kindly to their new chief. After a stay at Jummu Gholab Singh set out for Cashmere, accompanied by Broome and Nicholson and a small body of his own troops. Before many days had elapsed he was hastening back to his capital with such of his soldiers who could escape from the insurgents, while the two British officers just managed to avoid capture in the mountain passes, and join him later at Jummu.

The Sikh insurrection, however, had a brief life. A few months later Nicholson was again in Cashmere with a definite appointment in the North-West Frontier Agency. He was marked out by Lawrence as one of the men whom he could rely upon to help in the work of keeping peace in the Punjaub. Of the other lieutenants of Lawrence—Herbert Edwardes, Abbott, Reynell Taylor, Becher, and the rest—mention will be made in due course. Never was master better served than was the British Resident by these young and able officers.

To the wise way in which they carried out his policy of conciliation we owe it that the vast district of the Punjaub not only remained quiet at the outbreak of the Mutiny, but itself furnished us with native troops who had a great share in quelling the rebellion.

From Cashmere Nicholson was in time transferred to Lahore to act as Assistant to Colonel Henry Lawrence. This was a pleasing promotion, and held out hopes of even more important posts in the future. On the way down to the old Sikh capital he had the satisfaction of meeting his younger brother Charles, who had followed him into the service and arrived in India some months previously. Another brother, Alexander, as has been noted, had been killed in action in the fighting round Cabul in 1842, and a third—William—was to meet with a sadder fate. He was found dead in circumstances that gave rise to a suspicion of foul play.

Now began for Nicholson that useful training in administrative work which gained him such repute a few years later. Within three weeks of his arrival at Lahore he was despatched on a mission to Umritsur, with instructions to survey and report generally on the district. This done, he proceeded to the Sind Sagur Doab country, where he was stationed as political officer in command. To cultivate the acquaintance of the two Nazims, or ruling chiefs, the Sirdars Chuttur Singh and Lall Singh, and support their authority, at the same time that he protected the people from oppression, was Nicholson's charge from Lawrence, and he applied himself to the difficult task with zeal and enthusiasm.

"Avoid as far as possible any military movement during the next three months," wrote Lawrence; "but, should serious disturbance arise, act energetically." By peaceful methods, if possible, did he wish to bring the Punjaub under subjection. Still, if the

". . . new-caught, sullen peoples,
Half-devil and half-child,"

were rebellious and needed chastening, the hand that smote them was to smite heavily.

Very soon after Nicholson reached his new district the occasion arose for him to assert his power. Captain Abbott, then acting as Boundary Commissioner, was having trouble with the chiefs of Simulkund. These worthies had committed some dastardly outrages in the neighbourhood, and refused point-blank to appear at his court to answer for their misdeeds. In response to the other's summons, Nicholson led a small force to Simulkund, where he acted in conjunction with Abbott. The result of these prompt measures was to make the Simulkund rebels abandon their position without firing a shot.

This was a peaceful termination to an overt act of rebellion. The next piece of lawlessness that called for punishment was of a more serious nature, and gave Nicholson more opportunity to display his mastery. Although the country round Rawal Pindi was apparently tranquil, the natives were, as a matter of fact, only waiting for a convenient moment to shake off the yoke. Pathans, Rajputs, Jats, Gujars, and men of other tribes, alike resented the check laid upon their raiding and cattle-lifting, while the rough soldiery especially lamented the lost opportunities for plundering.

Before the winter of 1847-48 had come to an end there was a violent outbreak in Mooltan. In that district the Moolraj treacherously murdered some white officers and proclaimed a "holy war" against the British.

The revolt soon began to spread. Tribe after tribe helped to fan the fires of rebellion into a blaze, until at last Sirdar Chuttur Singh, whom everybody had thought to be tamed, threw off his allegiance and raised his wild Hazara followers. To Nicholson news speedily came that Chuttur Singh meant to seize the fort at Attock, an important hill station. Although suffering from fever, he declared to Lawrence his readiness to start at once for the fort and occupy it before the rebel chief could forestall them.

"I will start to-night," said Nicholson. "The fever is nothing, and shall not hinder me."

Lawrence having consented to his departure, he set off some hours later with a body of Peshawur Horse and Mohammedan levies, and by dint of hard riding reached the fort in the nick of time. The garrison were on the point of closing the gates against him. Leaping from his horse, and striding boldly among them, Nicholson ordered the Sikh soldiers to arrest their leaders. For a moment they wavered, and the young officer's life hung in the balance. But no one dared fire the shot which would have turned the scale for mutiny.

"Seize those men!" commanded Nicholson fiercely, as he pointed out the ringleaders. And, impressed by his resolute bearing, as he towered above them with grim determination written on his face, the soldiers did as he ordered, whereupon he placed the prisoners in fetters and made arrangements for the security of the fort.

It was a daring and characteristic piece of work, made all the more noteworthy by the fact that Nicholson was almost alone when he leapt thus upon the mutineers. In his fiery impatience he had outdistanced his escort of sixty horsemen, only a handful of these being able to keep up with him to the end. The infantry, he noted in his report, did not arrive until midnight.

Such a swift blow at their plans as this was not without its lesson to the Sikhs, and the name of "Nikalseyn" from that time began to assume a terrible significance in their minds.

[1] Killed at the battle of Ferozeshah.

CHAPTER IV.

THE SECOND SIKH WAR.

The capture of Attock effected, there still remained much to be done in the immediate neighbourhood. Chuttur Singh's Hazara forces were moving about with the intention of joining the main army under another Sikh leader, Shere Singh. With his newly raised troop of 700 levies Nicholson dashed hither and thither, striking heavy blows at the scattered portions of the enemy whom he encountered and damping the ardour of other tribesmen who had thoughts of swelling the numbers of the rebels.

Hasan Abdal received one of these sudden and unexpected visits. Here a body of Sikh horse had mutinied and expelled their commander from the fort. Nicholson promptly paraded the garrison, placing the ringleaders under arrest, as he had done at Attock. In this instance, however, he thought it better policy to show some leniency. When the Sikhs begged hard for forgiveness he granted it, wishing to show that he was "not entirely without confidence in them."

Almost immediately after this incident he learned that a Sikh regiment of some strength, with two guns, was at Rawal Pindi on its way to meet Chuttur Singh's army. By a quick march he intercepted the rebels at a place called Jani-ka-sang, near the Margalla Pass. The mutineers had taken up a strong position within the walls of a cemetery, and if it came to a fight in the open the advantage lay entirely on their side.

Nicholson made up his mind quickly as to his course of action. Concealing his men in a piece of jungle, he called out the colonel of the disaffected regiment and gave him half an hour in which to decide whether he would surrender or be attacked. What Nicholson would have actually done had the Sikh commander remained obdurate is a question; possibly he would have risked a dash across the open ground in front of the cemetery walls and taken the chance of his men facing the rebels' fire or turning tail. But he was spared such a crucial test. Before the half-hour was up the Sikh colonel reappeared to announce that he and his men regretted their disobedience, and were ready to place themselves at his service.

Once more Nicholson's reputation for fearlessness had won him a bloodless victory. Having read them a severe lecture, he dismissed the mutineers with no further punishment, and sent them off to Rawal Pindi.

From now on Nicholson was busy scouring the country round Hasan Abdal, reducing Chuttur Singh's chances of increasing his army as far as was possible. Wherever mutiny reared its head, there was the young lieutenant with his troop of irregulars ready to crush it at once with a stern hand. There was no temporising with him. He held much the same views at this time as some years later when, in reply to a lengthy despatch from Sir Henry Lawrence calling upon him for a report of the courts-martial he was holding and punishments he was inflicting, he wrote on the other side of the document in large letters: "The punishment of mutiny is death."

By September 1848 Chuttur Singh, with several regular regiments and nearly a score of field-pieces, was making a determined forward movement. There was also another but smaller force in the field led by a son of the Sikh chief. When Nicholson learned that the latter body was endeavouring to join the main army he made a bold attempt to cut it off, and started off post-haste for the Margalla Pass. At this spot, through which he knew the rebel troops would be compelled to march, was a formidable tower situated high up on the hillside. To gain entrance to this it was necessary to clamber up to an opening in the outer wall some ten feet from the ground, but Nicholson was not daunted by this. It was most essential that the tower should be carried by storm and its position held by his men.

Accordingly he led his troops to the assault in a mad rush that carried the Pathans to the base of the tower before they could realise what a foolhardy undertaking they were engaged upon. The rest of his men very cowardly lagged behind. Then, no ladder being procurable, he set to work to break down the wall, while from above the defenders rained down a storm of stones upon them. One of these missiles hit Nicholson in the face and knocked him over, but the wound was luckily not a severe one.

In the end he was forced to fall back with his handful of men, the tower being practically impregnable and a large body of Sikhs having been observed marching to the relief of the garrison. But the vigour of his attack had its moral effect. The Sikh soldiers, fearing that the assault would be renewed next day, and that Nicholson would take some terrible revenge upon them for their resistance, quietly stole away under cover of the darkness, leaving him master of the situation!

It was somewhere about this time that the famous sect of Sikhs arose which honoured Nicholson by elevating him to the rank of a deity. A certain Hindu devotee in Hazara gave out that he had discovered in "Nikalseyn" the incarnation of the Brahman god, and he soon gathered about him a little company of enthusiastic fellow-worshippers. To their hero's annoyance, the "Nikalseyns," as they styled themselves, indulged in open adoration, even prostrating themselves at his feet. In vain did he threaten them with condign punishment, and at last actually resort to flogging. The devotees admired him all the more for his severity, and sang his praises still louder.

"After the last whipping," says Sir Herbert Edwardes in a character sketch of the hero, "Nicholson released them, on the condition that they would transfer their adoration to John Becher (Abbott's successor at Hazara), but, arrived at their monastery, they once more resumed the worship of the relentless Nikalseyn."

In his reminiscences of India[1] Mr. R. G. Wilberforce states that the Sikhs declared they would raise a Taj to Nicholson, beside which the famous Golden Taj at Umritsur should be as nought, did he but openly profess their religion.

"During the time that Nicholson was with the column," he continues, writing of the days before the march to Delhi, "it was a common sight of an evening to see the Sikhs come into camp in order that they might see him. They used to be admitted into his tent in bodies of about a dozen at a time. Once in the presence, they seated themselves on the ground and fixed their eyes upon the object of their adoration, who all the while went on steadfastly with whatever work he was engaged in, never even lifting his eyes to the faces of his mute worshippers."