Although the military operations conducted by Sir Hugh Rose and his heroic companions, bearing relation to the reconquest of Gwalior, and the re-establishment of Scindia on his Mahratta throne, were the most interesting events in India during the month of June, the other provinces also witnessed struggles and contests which equally need to be chronicled; seeing that they all contributed towards the one great and earnestly desired result—the pacification of the Anglo-Indian empire. Terrible, it is true, were the labours of the gallant men who fought and marched against the rebels under the scorching heat of an Indian sun—heat which was that year excessive, even for India itself; but such labours were necessary, and were borne with a degree of cheerfulness which commands our admiration for the sterling qualities of British troops. Sir Colin Campbell yearned to place his brave men under shade and at rest, until such time as the rains should have cooled down the summer’s fiery temperature; he did so to such an extent as was practicable; but this extent was not great. June, as we shall see, was a month of much fighting in the regions adjacent to the Ganges, the Jumna, the Chumbul, and the Sone.
Calcutta saw nothing of the governor-general during many months. He took up his abode at Allahabad; filling the offices not only of governor-general of the whole of India, but special governor of some of those disturbed regions which had at one time been called the Northwest Provinces, and at another the Central Provinces. This he had done in order that he might be in more easy communication with the commander-in-chief, and in more prompt receipt of intelligence from the various stations and camps in Oude, Behar, Rohilcund, the Doab, Bundelcund, Central India, and Rajpootana. How the weight of responsibility pressed on one who had to govern at such a time and in such a climate, few were aware; he worked on, early and late, thinking only how best he could act as the Queen’s viceroy for India. Calcutta had not much more to do with Lord Canning’s proceedings at that period, than the other presidential cities; for he had his staff of government employés with him at Allahabad.
Bengal was nearly at peace in June; few troubles disturbed the equable flow of commerce and industry. One slight transaction of an opposite kind may, however, be briefly noticed. A body of sailors sent from Calcutta had an opportunity of bringing some rebels to an account, and defeating them in the wonted style. A naval brigade, under Captain Moore, was stationed in the district of Singbhoom, southwest of Calcutta, near the frontier between the Bengal and Madras presidencies. The district comprised the four petty states of Singbhoom, Colehan, Surakella, and Khursawa, each of which had its rajah or chieftain. The only town of any note in the district was Chyebassa; and here was the Company’s civil station. The Rajah of Singbhoom, at the period now under notice, was endeavouring, like many other rajahs, to strengthen himself by throwing off British supremacy. It happened, on the 9th of the month, when the brigade was encamped at Chuckerderpore, but when some of the officers had gone to Chyebassa, that the camp was suddenly attacked by the rajah’s motley retinue of Koles, a half-savage tribe armed with battle-axes, bows and arrows, spears, and matchlocks. They invested the camp on all sides, and made a very fierce attack. The seamen poured in a few shells among them, which threw them into much disorder. After this a party of thirty went out, and committed much havoc among them in a hand-to-hand contest. Captain Moncrieff then rode in from Chyebassa, with a cavalry escort, and at once engaged with the rebels. After five hours’ skirmishing, the mid-day sun exhausted alike Europeans and Koles; and nothing further occurred till the morning of the 10th. The rebels were so numerous that the brigade could only attack them on one side at once; and thus it was not until the arrival of a hundred Ramgurh troops and fifty Sikhs, at noon on the 11th, that the rajah and his Koles gave way—retreating to the jungles of Porahaut.
In other parts of Bengal there were petty chieftains of like character, who were quite willing to set up as kings on their own account—regardless of treaties existing between them and the Company, and actuated solely by the temptations afforded during a period of disorder. But the conditions were not favourable to them. The meek and cowardly Bengalees did not imitate the Hindustanis of the Doab and Oude; the hill-tribes were too few in number to be formidable; and the steady arrival of British troops at Calcutta strengthened the hands of the authorities in all the surrounding regions. Arrangements were gradually made for increasing the number of European troops at Calcutta, Dacca, Barrackpore, Berhampore, Hazarebagh, Jessore, and one or two other stations—so as to place the whole of Bengal more immediately under the eye of the military authorities.
These defensive measures extended as far north as Darjeeling—one of those healthy and temperate Hill-stations which have so often been adverted to in former chapters as important sanitaria for the English in India. Simla, Landour, Kussowlie, Subathoo, Mussouree, Dugshai, Almora, and Nynee Tal, are all of this character; and to these may be added Darjeeling. A patch of hill-country, containing about three hundred square miles, and formerly belonging to the Rajah of Sikim, was obtained by the Company a few years ago, and Darjeeling established near its centre. The Himalayas bound it on the north, Nepaul on the west, Bhotan on the east, and two of the Bengal districts on the south. The hills and valleys are beautiful, and the climate healthy. Darjeeling is more particularly mentioned in this place, because, about the date to which this chapter refers, public attention was called to a project for establishing a settlement called Hope Town, on the slopes of a hill near Darjeeling. This settlement was to be for independent emigrants, colonists, or settlers, from the plains, or even from Europe; who, it was hoped, might be tempted to that region by a fertile soil and a magnificent climate, and thus gradually introduce English farming at the base of the Himalayas. A company or society purchased or leased about fourteen thousand acres of hill-land, in Darjeeling district, but not in immediate contiguity to Darjeeling town. It was announced that the locality contained clay for bricks, rubble for masonry, lime for mortar, timber for carpentry and for fuel, and all the essential requisites for building; water was abundant, from the mountain streams and springs; while peaceful natives in the neighbouring plains would be eager to obtain employment as artisans and labourers. The elevation of the land, varying from three to six thousand feet, offered much facility of choice. As the government had commenced a road from Darjeeling and Hope Town to Caragola Ghât on the Ganges, there would be good markets for hill produce in many parts of Bengal—perhaps in Calcutta itself. When the project of this Hope Town settlement was first formed in 1856, it was intended that the projectors should grant leases of small plots for farms or dwellings, for a fixed number of years, and at a rental so small as to attract settlers; while at the same time this rental should so far exceed what the speculators paid to the government as to enable them to construct a road, and build a school-room, church, library, and other component elements for a town. This, it may be observed, was only one among several colonising projects brought before public notice in India. The land containing many magnificent tracts, and the climate presenting many varieties of temperature, it has often been urged that that noble country presents advantages for settlement which ought no longer to be overlooked. So long as the East India Company’s power existed, any colonising schemes would necessarily prove almost abortive; but now that British India owns no other ruler than the sovereign of England, there may in future years be an opening offered for the thorough examination and testing of this important question, that its merits and demerits may be fairly compared. Some of the advocates of colonisation have painted imaginary pictures so glowing as to represent India as the true Dorado or Golden Land of the widely spreading British empire; some of the opponents of colonisation, on the other hand, have asserted that British farmers could not live in India if they would, and would not if they could:—the future will strike out a practicable mean between these two extremes.
The controversy concerning Indian heat, in reference to the wants and constitutions of English settlers, bore very closely on the subject of colonisation, and on the difference between the hilly districts and the plains. In military matters, however, and in reference to the struggle actually going on, all admitted that the summer of 1858 had been more than usually fierce in its heat. A correspondent of one of the journals said: ‘As if to try the endurance of Englishmen to the utmost, the season has been such as has not been known since 1833. Those who know Bengal will understand it when I say that on the 15th inst. one clergyman in Calcutta buried forty-eight Englishmen, chiefly sailors. In one ship the captain, chief-mate, and twenty-six men, had all apoplexy at once. Nine men from Fort-William were buried one morning from the same cause. Her Majesty’s 19th, at Barrackpore, who are nearly all under cover, and who are most carefully looked after, have 200 men unfit for duty from immense boils. All over the country paragraph after paragraph announces the deaths of so many men at such a place from apoplexy.’ The same writer mentions the case of a colonel who, just arrived with his regiment at Calcutta, and, unfamiliar with an Indian climate, marched off his men with their stocks on: in an hour afterwards he and his instructor in rifle-practice were both dead from apoplexy.
Before quitting Calcutta, it may be well to mention that the month of June was marked by an honourable and energetic movement for recording the services and cherishing the memory of Mr Venables, one of those civil servants of the Company who displayed an undaunted spirit, and considerable military talent, in times of great trial. It will be remembered that, after many months of active service, both civil and military, Mr Venables was wounded at Azimghur on the 15th of April;[[180]] from the effects of this wound he soon afterwards sank—dying as he had lived, a frank and gallant man. A committee was formed in Calcutta to found, by individual subscriptions, some sort of memorial worthy of the man. Viscount Canning took an early opportunity of joining in this manifestation; and in a letter to the committee he spoke of Mr Venables in the following terms: ‘It will be a satisfaction to me to join in this good work, not only on account of the admiration which I feel for the high qualities which Mr Venables devoted to the public service, his intrepidity in the field, his energy and calm temper in upholding the civil authority, and his thoroughly just appreciation of the people and circumstances with which he had to deal; but also, and especially, on account of circumstances attending the last service which Mr Venables rendered to his country. After the capture of Lucknow, where he was attached to Brigadier General Franks’ column, Mr Venables came to Allahabad. He was broken in health and spirits, anxious for rest, and looking forward eagerly to his return to England, for which his preparations were made. At that time the appearance of affairs near Azimghur was threatening; and I asked Mr Venables to forego his departure from India, and return to that district, with which he was intimately acquainted—there to assist in preserving order until danger should have passed away. He at once consented cheerfully; and that consent cost him his life. I am certain that the Court of Directors, who are fully informed of all particulars of Mr Venables’s great services and untimely death, will be eager to mark, in such manner as shall seem best to them, their appreciation of the character of this brave, self-denying English gentleman; and I am truly glad to have an opportunity of joining with his fellow-countrymen in India in testifying the sincere respect which I feel for his memory.’
Beyond the limits of Bengal, one of the many interesting questions that pressed upon public attention bore relation to Nepaul and Jung Bahadoor. That gay, gorgeous, shrewd, and unscrupulous chieftain had gone back to his own country somewhat dissatisfied with his share in the Oude campaign, or with the advantages accruing from it. Queen Victoria had made him a Grand Cross of the Bath—a gentle knight ‘sans peur et sans reproche,’ according to the original meaning of that honourable distinction; but there were those who believed he would have better welcomed some more substantial recognition of his services, such as a fair slice out of the territory of Oude. Some doubted his fidelity to the British cause, and among these were several of the leaders among the rebels. There came to light a most remarkable correspondence, shewing in what way Jung Bahadoor was tempted to swerve from his allegiance, and in what way he resisted the temptation. Several letters were made public—by what agency does not clearly appear—addressed by the Begum of Oude and her adherents to the Nepaulese chieftain. About the period to which this chapter relates, the rebel party at Lucknow disseminated rumours to the effect that Jung Bahadoor, after his return to Nepaul, had been written to by the Begum, and that he had undertaken to throw in his lot with the ‘patriots’ of Oude. That the attempt was made is clear enough; but the nature of the response, so far as the published correspondence revealed it, certainly does not seem to implicate him. One letter, apparently written about the end of May, was signed by Mahomed Surfraz Ali, who designated himself ambassador of the King of Oude. It began by expressing astonishment that Nepaul should have aided the infidel British, after having in former days been in friendly alliance with Oude. ‘The chiefs of every tribe,’ it said, ‘should fight for their religion as long as they live.’ Considering that the Oude royal family were Mohammedans, and the Nepaulese Hindoos, the ambassador had some difficulty in so framing his letter as to prove that Jung Bahadoor ought to aid them rather than the English; and indeed his logic was somewhat lame. The ambassador stated that he was then writing at Toolseepore, whither he had been sent by the powerful Moulvie Ahmedoolah Shah, on the part of the King of Oude, to act as accredited agent or ambassador with the Nepaul authorities. He proceeded to state that seven letters, in the Persian language, had been written by Mahomed Khan Bahadoor, viceroy of Oude, to as many of the chief personages in Oude—among others, to Jung Bahadoor himself; and that two letters, in the Hindee language, had been written under the seal of the King of Oude, one addressed to the King of Nepaul, and one to Jung Bahadoor. Mahomed Surfraz Ali added: ‘Neither I nor the servants of our government are acquainted with your titles, or those of your authorities, so we cannot address you properly. I am in hopes that you will send me word how we should address you; and pray forgive any mistakes or omissions in this letter.’ He begged the favour of a letter, with the chieftain’s seal attached, for presentation to the court of Oude. The letters purporting to be written by or for ‘Ramzan Ali Khan Mirza Birjiz Kudr Bahadoor,’ King of Oude, assumed quite a regal style, and almost claimed the alliance of the Nepaul Maharajah as a right. The royal letter-writer made short work of the causes of the mutiny: ‘The British some time ago attempted to interfere with the faith of both the Hindoos and the Mohammedans, by preparing cartridges with cows’ grease for the Hindoos, and that of pigs’ for the Mohammedans, and ordering them to bite them with their teeth. The sepoys refused, and were ordered by the British to be blown away from guns on the parade-ground. This is the cause of the war breaking out, and probably you are acquainted with it. But I am ignorant as to how they managed to get your troops, which they brought down here, and began to commit every sort of violence, and to pull down temples, mosques, imaumbarahs, and sacred places. You are well aware of the treachery of the British; and it is proper you should preserve the standard of religion, and make the tree of friendship between you and me fresh.’ The real correspondents, in this exchange of letters, were the Begum of Oude and Jung Bahadoor. The astute chieftain wrote a reply, couched in such terms as to suggest a probability that the British resident at Khatmandoo was at his elbow. One of his high-flown paragraphs ran thus: ‘Since the star of faith and integrity, sincerity in words as well as in acts, and wisdom and comprehension, of the British, are shining as bright as the sun in every quarter of the globe, be assured that my government will never disunite itself from the friendship of the exalted British government, or be instigated to join with any monarch against it, be he as high as heaven. What grounds can we have for connecting ourselves with the Hindoos and Mohammedans of Hindostan?’ And he ended with this bit of advice: ‘As you have sent me a friendly letter, let me persuade you, that if any person, Hindoo or Mohammedan, who has not murdered a British lady or child, goes immediately to Mr Montgomery, the chief-commissioner of Lucknow, and surrenders his arms, and makes submission, he will be permitted to retain his honour, and his crime will be pardoned. If you still be inclined to make war on the British, no rajah or king in the world will give you an asylum; and death will be the end of it.’ This reply, supposing it to be a spontaneous expression of the real sentiments of Jung Bahadoor, would have possessed very high value; but a large deduction must probably be made both from the spontaneity and the sincerity.
It may perhaps be well to notice that the royal house of Oude was at discord with itself in those days, and that the king’s name was used ‘as a tower of strength’ by intriguers who cared little for rightful ownership. The real king—that is, the ex-king—was at Calcutta, a prisoner and a half-idiot, with depravity enough to enjoy plots, but not brains to execute them. The legitimate son and heir, so to speak, was in Europe, where he had lately buried his grandmother the dowager-queen of Oude, and was spending his father’s money at a very rapid rate. The regal personages at Lucknow were the Begum and her son. The Begum was one of the king’s many ladies; and her son was a weak-headed youth of thirteen years old—‘illegitimate,’ according to the assertions of the ‘legitimate’ son at that time in Europe. The exiled king and his two sons were, in reference to these machinations at Lucknow, mere tools or pretences; the real mover was the clever and ambitious Begum. In Nepaul, likewise, the real power was possessed, not by the maharajah, or sovereign, but by his all-controlling, king-making subject, Jung Bahadoor.