Let the reader figure to himself this army scattered about the country in military posts, from the eastern provinces on the Irrawaddy to spurs of the mountains beyond the Indus on the north-western boundary. Here they are gathered in brigades of two or three regiments of all arms; there stands a solitary regiment of infantry or cavalry; in another place a squadron or a company. From Fort William in Calcutta, up the valley of the Ganges, and beyond it across the Punjab to Peshawur, ran a chain of military stations; throwing out detachments to the right and left, on one side towards the Himalayas and Nepaul, on the other over the jungles of Central India and Rajpootana, until the outposts touched those of Madras in Nagpore and the Deccan, and those of Bombay in the valley of the Nerbudda. In each of the stations there are the native lines with open parades in front, and the detached quarters of the European community; long rows of thatched dwellings, and cottages standing in gardens or "compounds." In some there are no European troops; indeed, so few are the Europeans in this vast region, that their presence is the exception and not the rule. For instance, the great fort and magazine of Allahabad, at the junction of the Ganges and Jumna, is in the hands of native troops. The fortified city of Delhi, with its two magazines, is entirely occupied by native infantry. In the whole of Oude there is only one European regiment, the 32nd, at Lucknow. At Cawnpore, a very important station, there are no Europeans. Mooltan, the key of the valley of the Indus, is, in like manner, almost destitute of Europeans. In other stations there are one or two European regiments or parts of regiments. Thus, at the great station of Dinapore there was the 10th Foot; at Agra, the 3rd Bengal Fusiliers; at Meerut, a whole European brigade of all arms, 6th Dragoon Guards, 60th Rifles, and artillery; at Lahore, the 81st Foot and some artillery; and at or near Peshawur the 27th, 70th, and 87th Foot. In the hill stations of the North-West and in the Punjab the European element was stronger than elsewhere, for there were fourteen regiments, including two of horse, scattered about in that quarter. There were thus about 12,000 Europeans north and west of Delhi, but there were upwards of 40,000 Hindostanees, and beside these several thousand Sikhs and Punjabees. Between the Jumna and the Nerbudda there was not a single European regiment. British India altogether was six regiments short of her complement of European troops; but four of these were in Persia making war on the Shah, and with them were Generals Outram and Havelock. Such was the state of affairs at the end of 1856, when India stood on the threshold of an awful calamity and knew it not. The country seemed to be profoundly tranquil, but there were 5,000 fewer British soldiers than was usual to secure or defend the sway of their race.
OUTBREAK OF THE INDIAN MUTINY: HIGH CASTE V. LOW CASTE. (See p. [185].)
Government had determined to arm the Sepoys with the Minié rifle. It followed, as a matter of course, that Schools for Instruction in Musketry were established. With the old musket instruction was of little avail, for Brown Bess could not be relied on to shoot straight for a distance of a hundred and fifty yards. Therefore, at various points men from several regiments of the native army met to be taught how to load and fire the new rifle. This weapon was loaded with a greased cartridge. It was usual in those days to bite the cartridge, in order to pour out the powder. At Dumdum, near Calcutta, there was an arsenal, and here these cartridges were made up, chiefly by native servants. Early in January one of these men asked a Sepoy of the 2nd Grenadiers for a draught of water from his lotah, or brass drinking-pot. The high-caste native was astonished at the insolence of the man, for he was low caste; and if the lips of the latter touched the pot, it would be defiled. He refused with disdain. The low-caste man was one of those who made up the cartridges, and he retorted with a sneer that the Sepoy need not be so particular about his caste; for the new cartridges were greased with bullock's fat, and every Sepoy would lose caste when he bit off the end. The Sepoy spread the tale abroad among his comrades. The Hindoos were told that the grease was the grease of the sacred cow, and the Moslem soldiers were informed that it was the fat of the unclean swine; and finally, to meet the case of both, the story ran that the grease was a compound of the fat of pigs and cows. This story has been received as authentic. Whether it be true or not in detail, it illustrates the feeling that the new cartridges, with their unctuous ends and ill odour, had aroused in the native mind. Here, then, was a plot to deprive the whole army of its caste, striking high and low alike, and with its caste of its religion! The fatal story flew on the wings of the wind from cantonment to cantonment from station to station. In a few weeks the native army was ready to rise and slay.
At first, indeed, the men at Dumdum appeared to be perfectly reasonable. Called on at parade to state complaints, they objected to the cartridge, and suggested the use of wax and oil. The Government ordered an investigation, and in the meantime changed the drill, so that in future the end of a cartridge was to be torn not bitten off. General Hearsey, an experienced soldier, well known to all the Sepoys, harangued his division at Barrackpore, showing them how impossible it was that they could be made Christians by the mere biting of cartridges. But all was of no avail. A native lieutenant informed the authorities that the Barrackpore brigade was preparing to mutiny. General Hearsey wrote to Calcutta, saying, "We have at Barrackpore been dwelling upon a mine ready for explosion." He admitted that the native officers were of no use, being afraid of their men, and he suggested that a European regiment should be sent up to the station.
At this time, the middle of February, another singular sign was observed. A native policeman entered a village of Oude, carrying two chupatties, or cakes. He ordered his fellow official there to make ten more, and give two to each of the five nearest village policemen, with the same instructions. In a few hours the whole country was astir with watchmen flying about with these cakes. This proceeding was and remains a mystery. One officer who saw a watchman run in with his cakes, asked what it meant. He was told that when the malik, or chief, required a service from his people, he sent round these cakes to prepare them for the execution of his orders. "And what is the order now?" inquired the officer. And the answer, with a smile, was, "We don't know yet." Whatever may have been the reason for this flight of cakes, there it stands in the forefront of calamity, and is regarded as one of its signs. "How little was it thought," writes Mr. Cave Browne, "that therein was really hidden an Eastern symbol of portentous meaning! Five centuries before (1368), the Chinese had, by a somewhat similar plan, organised and carried out a conspiracy by means of which their dynasty of Mongol invaders was overthrown." This is a far-fetched illustration. No doubt, the chupatty mystery had a meaning, though it may never have been clearly ascertained.
From Barrackpore a detachment of the 34th Native Infantry went to Berhampore, once a great and important station, 120 miles north of Calcutta. Here were quartered the 19th Native Infantry, the 11th Irregulars, and two guns. The 19th feasted their comrades, and these in return told the story of the cartridges with great additions. John Company had sent Lord Canning to convert India to Christianity, and he had been ordered to begin by destroying the caste of the whole army! The men of the 19th heard, and forthwith believed. They made no inquiries of the English officers. What were the "stranger gentlemen" to them? How could their words in such a matter affect what their brethren had told them? On the day after the detachment had come in, Colonel Mitchell, commanding at the station, ordered a parade for the following morning. The men were to meet for exercise with blank cartridge, and it was served out. These cartridges were not new, and had inadvertently been made of two kinds of paper, whereupon the Sepoys imagined that one sort must be the greased cartridges fatal to their caste. So the men refused to take them. Not ripe at the moment for mutiny, they yielded when threatened with a court-martial. But the same night their passions got the better of them, and they rose and seized their arms. Aroused by the noise and confusion, Colonel Mitchell ordered out the cavalry and the guns. But the night was dark. Torches were necessary. The ground was broken. Neither guns nor horsemen, it is said, could be used. Colonel Mitchell doubted whether he could depend on his native troopers and native gunners. He therefore harangued the mutineers, explained the groundlessness of their fears, and begged them to give up their arms. The Sepoys, still unready for revolt, made a counter-proposition. They would give up their arms if the Colonel would withdraw his cavalry and guns. He complied, and with this transaction the tumult ended. Here, then, was decided mutiny. It broke out with a running accompaniment of fires in different places, the work of wilful men bent on spreading the contagion of alarm and treason.
On learning what had happened at Berhampore, the Government in Calcutta called up the 84th Queen's Regiment from Burmah, and ordered the 19th Native Infantry to march to Barrackpore to be disbanded. As they were marching down, an emissary from the 34th met them with a proposal that, when within a march of the station, the 19th should murder their officers, while the 34th did the same; but the 19th refused, and marched quietly into the cantonment. Here they found the 84th, a wing of the 53rd Foot, two troops of horse artillery, and the Governor-General's body-guard of picked Sepoy troopers. Two days before they were disbanded, a Sepoy of the 34th, Mangul Pandy by name, endeavoured to rouse his regiment. In the presence of the guard, who stood by, he wounded Adjutant Baugh. While those were in deadly strife, the British sergeant-major dashed in; but he was cut down, and the native lieutenant and guard took part in the fray, striking the Europeans. A Mahometan, however, was faithful, and, with the assistance of General Hearsey and other officers Baugh was rescued and Mangul Pandy seized. Riding up to the mutinous guard, with a loaded pistol in one hand, and ordering them back, Hearsey threatened to shoot the first man who disobeyed him, and on this they returned to their posts. Mangul Pandy and the native lieutenant were hanged in due course, and the Mahometan and sergeant-major were rewarded; but for these acts, such was the style of management that prevailed in Bengal, General Hearsey was reprimanded! Otherwise the regiment was unpunished. On the 31st of March—a long delay caused by the fact that there was absolutely no regiment that could be trusted with the disarmament until the return of the 84th Foot from Burmah—the 19th were deprived of their arms, paid up all their arrears, solemnly lectured in the presence of the whole force at the station, European and native, disbanded, marched out of the station, and sent to their homes. The 19th were really not so much in fault as appeared, for they offered, if pardoned, to serve in China or anywhere; but Government held it necessary to make an example. For now the fires in cantonments were more rife than ever all up the valley of the Ganges, the midnight meetings of the Sepoys more numerous, and the excitement of the whole army was fast rising to a climax.
These symptoms of mutiny were manifest in Oude and in the North-West. General Anson, the Commander-in-Chief, was on his way to comfortable quarters in the hills. He was altogether unfitted for the deadly conflict impending. He did not understand its gravity, and if he had caught a glimpse of the facts, he would have been unable to deal with them. In the middle of March, with the 36th Native Infantry for escort, he went to Umballa. Two non-commissioned officers of this regiment were at the rifle school. They went out to meet their comrades, and were by them repulsed as outcasts—men who had touched greased cartridges and were defiled. In fact, these natives had not touched greased cartridges, for there were none in the school. But that made no difference to the infatuated 36th. The Sepoys pretended that the rifle with its cartridge was "a Government missionary to convert the whole army to Christianity." By this time the whole army had become aware of its strength, and was in communication from Calcutta to Peshawur. General Anson inspected the depôt, and suspended the musketry practice of the Sepoys until further orders. He ordered an inquiry, and when all the symptoms were disclosed to him, he actually censured the Sepoys who had made known the fact that they had been repulsed and treated as outcasts by their corps! He next forced the Sepoys, not yet ripe for revolt, to use the cartridge. They did so, but at night they burnt a number of Government buildings. A Sikh now reported the existence of a conspiracy which was to break out in the beginning of May, either at Delhi, Umballa, or Meerut. But General Anson would not believe the information. He was already nestled snugly in the hills, playing whist. And so the month passed away, lighted at its close by blazing cantonments, and marked by the most flagrant signs of universal military disaffection. In addition to this the agents of the King of Delhi and the Shah of Persia and the Moslem priests were at work, preaching a religious war by stealth, while the Hindoo pundits openly prophesied that the reign of the English had lasted its appointed time, and that it was now coming to an end.
The month of May came. It was the height of the hot season. There is little doubt that the Sepoys, who had seen that their European masters feared the sun, had calculated on its enervating effects. The storm was gathering to a head. The strife was going on sullenly at Meerut as well as at Umballa. At Lucknow, also, it was in progress. On the first days of May the 7th Oude Irregular Infantry refused to touch cartridges, which, they admitted, were in every respect such as they had been accustomed to. The men were in absolute, but passive mutiny. On the 3rd of May, threatening to kill the European officers, they seized their arms and the magazine; but a force of cavalry and artillery arriving, the mutineers were panic-stricken and gave up their arms. It was then discovered that the 7th Oude and the 48th Native Infantry were actually conspiring. Thus face to face with danger, Sir Henry Lawrence, Commissioner in Oude, began to make preparations that enabled him to cope effectually with the crisis. He had already struck down promptly the first mutinous regiment. He was destined to save the power of Britain in Oude, and to sacrifice his life in so doing.