The conquerors of Delhi, wishing to prevent for ever the imperial city from becoming a stronghold for rebels, proposed to destroy at once all the fortifications. The Calcutta government, on receiving news of the final capture, telegraphed to General Wilson to the following effect: ‘The governor-general in council desires that you will at once proceed to demolish the defences of Delhi. You will spare places of worship, tombs, and all ancient buildings of interest. You will blow up, or otherwise destroy all fortifications; and you will so far destroy the walls and gates of the city as to make them useless for defence. As you will not be able to do this completely with the force at present available at Delhi, you will select the points at which the work may be commenced with the best effect, and operate there.’ After General Wilson had retired, and General Penny had assumed command at Delhi, information reached Sir John Lawrence at Lahore of the intended demolition. He evidently did not approve of the plan in its totality, and suggested delay even in commencing it, until further orders could be received from Calcutta. He thus telegraphed to Delhi on the 21st of October: ‘I do not think any danger could arise from delay. If the fortifications be dismantled, I would suggest that it be done as was the case at Lahore; we filled in the ditches by cutting down the glacis, lowered the walls, and dismantled the covering-works in front of the gates and bastions. A wall of ten or twelve feet high could do no harm, and would be very useful for police purposes. Delhi, without any walls, would be exposed to constant depredations from the Meeras, Goojurs, and other predatory races. Even such a partial demolition will cost several lacs of rupees and take a long time; at Lahore it cost two lacs, and occupied upwards of two years.’

One subject connected with the capture of Delhi was curiously illustrative of the state of the public mind as exhibited during the autumn of 1857. Anything less than a sanguinary retaliation for the atrocities committed by the natives in India was in many quarters regarded almost as a treasonable shrinking from justice. Kill, kill, kill all—was the injunction implied, if not expressed. Among the British residents in India this desire for blood was so strong, that it distempered the judgment of persons otherwise amiable and generous. Instead of acting on the principle that it is better for a few guilty to escape than for one innocent man to be punished, the doctrine extensively taught at that time reversed this rule of conduct. It is of course not difficult to account for this. The feelings of those who, a few short months before, had been peacefully engaged in the usual Anglo-Indian mode of life, were suddenly rent by a terrible calamity. Husbands, brothers, sons—wives, sisters, daughters—were not only put to death unjustly, but the black deed was accompanied by brutalities that struck horror into the hearts of all survivors. It was not at such a time that men could judge calmly. The subject is mentioned here because it points to one of the difficulties, almost without parallel in intensity, that pressed upon the nobleman whose fate it was to govern India at such a time. Every proclamation or dispatch, issued by Viscount Canning, which contained instructions to the Company’s officers tending to leniency towards any of the dark skins, was misquoted, misrepresented, violently condemned, and attributed to what in bitter scorn was called the ‘clemency of Canning.’ It required great moral courage, at such a time, to form a definite plan of action, and to maintain it in spite of clamour. Differences of opinion on these difficult matters of state policy are of course reasonable enough; the point is mentioned here only in its historical relation to an almost frenzied state of public opinion at a particular time.

Colonel Burn, Military Governor of Delhi.

The treatment of the King of Delhi was one of the subjects connected with this state of feeling. When taken a prisoner, the dethroned monarch was not shot. ‘Why is this?’ it was asked. Because Captain Hodson promised the king his life if he would surrender quietly. For a long time this gallant officer was an object of violent abuse for this line of conduct. ‘Why did Hodson dare to do this?’ was the inquiry. It was not until evidence clear and decisive had been afforded, of General Wilson’s sanction having been given to this proceeding, that the subject fell into its proper place as one open to fair and temperate discussion. Again, letters written anonymously at Delhi appeared in the Calcutta newspapers, announcing that the ex-royal family were treated with the most obsequious deference; and the ‘clemency’ was again contrasted with the ‘righteous demand for blood.’ So much of this as was untrue gradually fell out of repute; and then the simple fact became known that the king was to be tried as a traitor, but was not to be treated as a felon until found guilty. Mrs Hodson, wife to the officer who effected the capture, paid a visit to the royal captives, which she described in a highly interesting letter to an English relation, afterwards made public; whatever else it shewed, it afforded no indication that the aged profligate was treated with a degree of luxurious attention offensive to the European residents of the place.[[114]]

For all else, Delhi furnished nothing calling for special notice during the six weeks following the siege.

Of two columns, despatched from Delhi to pursue and punish the rebels after the siege, that under Colonel Greathed has already been noticed. A second, under Brigadier Showers, was engaged throughout October, mostly west and northwest of Delhi. Some of the petty rajahs between the Jumna and the Sutlej were in an embarrassing position; they would have drawn down on their heads eventual defeat by the British if they joined the rebels; while they were in immediate danger from the enmity of marauders and mutineers if they remained faithful to the British. To their credit be it said, most of them remained true to their treaties; they assisted the British in a time of trouble to the extent of their means. Especially was this the case in relation to the Rajahs of Jheend and Putialah, without whose friendly aid it would have scarcely been possible for Sir John Lawrence to send reinforcements from the Punjaub to General Wilson at Delhi. An exception was afforded by the Rajah of Jhujjur, whose treacherous conduct earned for him a severe defeat by Brigadier Showers about the middle of October. That officer was, later in the month, actively engaged in defeating and punishing rebels at Sonah, Bullubgurh, and other places.

Of the country north and northeast of Delhi, little need be said. Rohilcund was almost wholly in the hands of the rebels during September and October. In the districts of Bareilly, Boodayoun, Mooradabad, Shahjehanpoor, and Bijnour, the English might be reckoned by tens—so fierce had been the tempest which had swept them away. Happily Nynee Tal still remained a refuge for many non-combatants, who could not yet be safely removed to Calcutta or Bombay. Khan Bahadoor Khan—a notorious offender whose name has more than once been mentioned in these pages, and who, after being a well-paid deputy-collector in the Company’s service, shewed his gratitude by committing great atrocities as self-elected Nawab of Bareilly—planned an attack on Nynee Tal about the middle of September. He sent a force of 800 men, under his nephew, Nizam Ullie Khan. Major Ramsey, however, speedily mustered 300 Goorkhas, and about 50 miscellaneous volunteers and troopers; this force, sallying forth from Nynee Tal on the 18th, encountered the Bareilly rebels at Huldwanee, near the foot of the hills, and gave so effective a defeat to them as to prevent any repetition of the attack for a very long time.

All around the district of Meerut the movements of the rebels were sensibly checked by the fact that that important military station still remained in the hands of the British. After the first day of outbreak (10th of May), Meerut was provisioned and intrenched in such a way as to render it safe from all attacks, especially as the garrison had a good store of artillery; and as small bands of trusty troops could occasionally be spared for temporary expeditions, the mutineers were kept from any very near approach to Meerut itself. The chief annoyance was from the Goojurs and other predatory tribes, who sought to reap a golden harvest from the social anarchy around them.

Happily, the extreme northwest remained nearly at peace. The Punjaub, under the firm control of Sir John Lawrence, although occasionally disturbed by temporary acts of lawlessness, was in general tranquil. A few English troops ascended from Kurachee by way of the Indus and Moultan; and a few native regiments came from Bombay and Sinde; but the Sikhs and Mussulmans of the Punjaub itself were found to be for the most part reliable, under the able hands of Cotton and Edwardes. In Sinde a similar state of affairs was exhibited: a few isolated acts of rebellion, sufficient to set the authorities on the alert without seriously disquieting them. On one occasion a company of native artillery was disarmed at Hydrabad, on suspicion of being tainted with disloyalty. On another occasion the 21st native infantry was disarmed at Kurachee, because twenty or thirty of the men displayed bad symptoms. And on another, a few men of the 16th native infantry were detected in an attempt to excite their companions to mutiny. All these instances tended to shew, that if Sinde had been nearer to Hindostan or Oude, the Bengal portion of the army there stationed would in all probability have revolted; but being in a remote region, and among a people who had few sympathies with Brahmin sepoys, the incendiarism died out for lack of fuel.