Cawnpore

by George Otto Trevelyan

With July arrived Brigadier-General Havelock, who, after having employed a week in collecting his resources, moved northwards from Allahabad with six cannon and a thousand English soldiers. That was not a joyous expedition. The hearts of all were occupied with forebodings of evil which they dared not shape into words: and the face of creation seemed to reflect the universal gloom. As in that fantastic canvas of old Dürer, whereon the knight is journeying towards an unknown goal in unhallowed company, so to the fancy of those who were not incapable of vivid emotion even inanimate and irrational nature partook that shade of the future that was on every soul. They waded in a sea of slush, knee-deep now, and now breast high, while the flood of tropical rain beat down from overhead. As far to right and left as eye could pierce extended one vast morass: and the desolate scene was enlivened by no human sound. Nothing was heard save the melancholy croaking of the cicalas, mingled with an under hum of countless insects. The air was heavy with the offensive odour of neem-trees. There were no indications that the column was traversing an inhabited country, except the bodies which hung by twos and threes from branch and signpost, and the gaunt swine who by the roadside were holding their loathsome carnival. After three days of steady toil through the mud and the water Havelock was made aware that the enemy were ahead, and that Renaud was advancing unsupported into the teeth of an overwhelming force. Then our troops hastened forward, and made one march of five leagues and another of eight beneath a blazing sun; (for at this point the weather cleared, and they lost the protection of the clouds;) until they caught up the Major and his detachment, and finally halted in a state of entire prostration five miles from the town of Futtehpore, where Jwala Pershad was encamped with all his chivalry.

It was early morning. Our weary people were enjoying their "little breakfast" of tea, that pleasantest of Indian meals, when the rebel vanguard came pouring down the causeway. Havelock, who wished earnestly to give his harassed soldiers rest, resolved to wait until this ebullition should expend itself. But the affair grew serious; and he had soon no choice but to accept the challenge and draw up his army. In front were the guns, protected by a hundred skirmishers armed with that Enfield rifle which, then a rarity, is now a familiar object to every other household in Great Britain. The Fusileers and the Seventy-eighth Highlanders struggled through the swamps on the right. The Sixty-fourth Regiment went forward in the centre; and the Eighty-fourth on the left, supported by a battalion of Punjabees. The cavalry moved along some firm ground which lay on the extreme flank.

Never was there such a battle. "I might say," writes the General, "that in ten minutes the action was decided, for in that short space of time the spirit of the enemy was utterly subdued. The rifle fire, reaching them at an unexpected distance, filled them with dismay; and, when Captain Maude was enabled to push his guns to point-blank range, his surprisingly accurate fire demolished their little remaining confidence. In a moment three guns were abandoned to us on the chaussée, and the force advanced steadily, driving the enemy before it on every point. Their guns continued to fall into our hands; and then in succession they were driven from the garden enclosures; from a strong barricade on the road; from the town wall; into and through, out of and beyond the town. Their fire scarcely reached us. Ours, for four hours, allowed them no repose."

In fact it was a mere rout: a memorable triumph of outraged civilization. The Second Cavalry made a flourish which for a while checked our onset: but the troopers of that redoubted corps soon had had enough of English lead, and felt no appetite for a taste of English steel. Accustomed to deal with feebler adversaries, they were spoilt for fighting with grown men. By noon nothing was to be seen of the mutineers within six miles of Futtehpore save their dead, their accoutrements, and their whole park of artillery. Flying in irretrievable disorder they spread everywhere that the Sahibs had come back in strange guise; some draped like women, to remind them what manner of wrong they were sworn to requite; others, conspicuous by tall blue caps, who hit their mark without being seen to fire. Our list of killed and wounded contained not one British name: though a dozen or so of Sowars, Jemmadars, and Russeldars made it as incomprehensible to a home reader as an Indian bulletin should ever be. But the bloodless day was not costless: for twelve of our privates were slain outright by the sun. Our irregular horsemen, who recognised some comrades in the hostile ranks, had flatly refused to charge, and were consequently dismounted and disarmed: a precaution that diminished our cavalry to a score of volunteers.

When the Nana learned how his soldiers had conducted themselves he flew into a violent passion, which could be relieved only by vicarious letting of blood. After attending at the execution of eight ill-fated couriers, who had been intercepted from time to time with English despatches in and about their persons, he felt sufficiently composed to face the emergency. Determined to reserve his own sacred self for the supreme venture, he sent into the field a Patroclus in the person of Bala Rao, whose stake in the cause was indeed no light one. Every available mutineer was equipped and marched down the road, and the captured pieces were replaced from the magazine. On the morrow the Peishwa's brother followed his reinforcements, and took up a position round a hamlet named Aoung, twenty-two miles south of Cawnpore. He found the rebel mind in high perturbation. The gossip of the camp-fires ran mainly on the disagreeable sensations produced by strangulation; and the disquisitions of certain among the sepoys who had witnessed that operation were so circumstantial and picturesque that many who had come best off in the partition of the spoil doffed the remains of their uniforms, and stole away with their riches to the seclusion of their native villages. The behaviour of those who remained proved that the army had rather gained than lost in efficiency by the withdrawal of such as had nothing to acquire and something to enjoy.

Their valour was soon to be tested. At nine in the morning of the fifteenth up came the English; Maude and his battery leading the way; with the Fusileers and the sharpshooters of the Sixty-fourth close at his heels. Shrapnel shells and conical bullets quickly cleared away everything from our front, and strewed the highway with corpses, weapons, and abandoned tents and waggons. The Second Cavalry caught sight of our baggage, which had been left beneath a grove in the care of a slender guard, and fancied that they discerned an occasion for distinguishing themselves after their own fashion. But they were lamentably disappointed. The regiment had to bustle back with empty pockets and not a few empty saddles, and thenceforward was contented to rest on the renown of previous exploits.

Bala Rao withdrew his troops behind a stream which crossed the road a league in rear of the contested village. The water was too deep to be forded. The bridge was strongly fortified, and defended by two twenty-four pounders. Our force proceeded to the attack after a slight tiffin, and a short siesta for all whose nerves were firm enough to allow them a snatch of sleep between two of the rounds in a fight for such a prize. Maude raked the hostile cannon, which stood in a salient bend of the river: while the Fusileers advanced in skirmishing order, enraged at the fall of gallant Major Renaud, whose thigh had been broken early in the day. After plying their rifles with deadly effect, they suddenly closed up, and flung themselves headlong on the bridge. Bala Rao, to whom cannot be charged the cowardice which a popular maxim associates with cruelty, had purposed to maintain his post to the last: but on this occasion he had not to do with a front-rank of seated ladies and children, and a rear-rank of gentlemen whose hands were strapped behind their backs. With set teeth, and flashing eyes, and firelocks tightly clenched, pelted by grape and musketry, our people converged at a run upon the narrow passage. When they came near enough to afford the enemy an opportunity of observing on their countenances that expression which the Sahibs always wear when they do not mean to turn back, the rebel array broke and fled. The fugitives took with them their general, who carried off in his shoulder a lump of Government lead, to which he was most heartily welcome; but did not find time for the removal of their artillery. There passed into our hands four guns; which cannot be said to have been dearly purchased at six casualties a-piece.

Wounded as he was, Bala Rao brought to Cawnpore the tidings of his own defeat. He went straight to the quarters of his brother, which were soon crowded with the leading rebels, who came to hear what had happened, and to impart their apprehensions and suggestions. The deliberations of this improvised council were at first confused and desultory. Some were for retiring to Bithoor; some for uniting their forces with the mutineers of Futtehgur. At length, by a slender majority of voices, it was decided to make one more stand south of Cawnpore.

When this resolution had been adopted, Teeka Singh asked whether the Nana had made up his mind as to what should be done with the prisoners; and hinted that, in case things went ill, it might be awkward for some then present should the Sahibs find such a mass of evidence ready to their hands; nay more, that the chances of a reverse would be considerably lessened if the captives were once put out of the way. The British were approaching solely for the purpose of releasing their compatriots, and would not risk another battle for the satisfaction of burying them. They would be only too glad of an excuse to avoid meeting the Peishwa in the field. Dhoondoo Punth was not hard to convince on such a point. Whenever bloodshed was in question, he showed himself the least impracticable of men. In the present instance he would never have required prompting, but for the importunity of the royal widows, his step-mothers by adoption, who had sent him word that they would throw themselves and their children from the upper windows of the palace if he again murdered any of their sex. As a pledge that this was no vain parade of philanthropy they had abstained from food and drink for many hours together. In order to anticipate their remonstrances, directions were given to set about the work forthwith. In fact, for every reason, 'twas well that it should be done quickly. The assembly broke up; but all who could spare the time stayed for at least the commencement of such a representation as none could hope to behold twice in a lifetime.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, or between that and five, some of the Nana's people went across to the house of bondage, and bade the Englishmen who were there to come forth. Forth they came;—the three persons from Futtehgur, and the merchant and his son;—accompanied by the biggest of the children, a youth of fourteen, who, poor boy, was glad perhaps to take this opportunity of classing himself with his elders. Some ladies pressed out to watch the course which the party took, but were pushed back by the sentries. The gentlemen inquired whither they were going, and were answered that the Peishwa had sent for them on some concern of his own. But all around was a deep throng of spectators, the foremost rows seated on the ground, so that those behind might see: while an outer circle occupied, as it were, reserved places on the wall of the enclosure. There, beneath a spreading lime-tree, lounged Dhoondoo Punth, the gold lace of his turban glittering in the sunshine. There were Jwala Pershad; and Tantia Topee; and Azimoolah, the ladies' man; and Bala Rao, the twinges of whose shoulder-blade heightened his avidity for the coming show. When this concourse was noticed by our countrymen, their lips moved as if in prayer. At the gate which led into the road they were stopped by a squad of sepoys, and shot dead. Their bodies were thrown on to the grass which bordered the highway, and became the sport of the rabble; who, doubtless, pointed to them in turn, and said: "That Sahib is the Governor of Bengal; and this is the Governor of Madras; and this is the Governor of Bombay." Such was the joke which during that twelvemonth went the round of Northern India.