Chapattis, Farmans, and Rumors2
Sir Syed Ahmad Khan (1817–1898), who authored this first selection in 1858 during the final stages of the revolt, was born into a family of noble Mughal courtiers in Delhi. His father was political advisor to the Emperor Akbar II and Syed Ahmad Khan was educated for a similar career. However, after his father’s death and the Company’s demotion of the Mughal ruler, Syed Ahmad Khan broke with tradition, joining the EIC’s civil service as a court clerk (sherishtadar) at Agra. By the time of the rebellion, he was posted at Bijnor as the taluq’s chief assessment officer. His family suffered heavy losses in the revolt, but although Syed Ahmad Khan detested the insurgents, he would—as we will see—blame the rebellion on British incompetence and insensitivity. Here, he dismisses common perceptions about the uprising.
As regards the Rebellion of 1857 . . . for a long period, many grievances had been rankling in the hearts of the people. In course of time, a vast store of explosive material had been collected. It wanted but the application of a match to light it, and that match was applied by the Mutinous Army.
{94} In the course of the year 1856 . . . [chapattis]3 were passed from hand to hand in many districts. Cholera happened . . . to be raging in Hindustan. Some have imagined that these [chapattis] were used as a kind of Talisman to keep off the Cholera, the superstitious [Hindustanis] being in the habit of using such talismans. The fact is that even at the present day we do not know what caused the distribution of those [chapattis]. We may be very sure, however, that they could never have been used with the object of spreading a conspiracy. We have, in Hindustan . . . a custom of passing messages from tongue to tongue in this way: but with these [chapattis] . . . no such message passed. . . . The manner in which the rebellion spread, first here, then there, now breaking out in this place, and now in that, is alone good proof that there existed no widespread conspiracy.
Nor is there . . . reason for thinking that the rebels in Hindustan received . . . aid from Russia or . . . Persia. . . . [Hindustanis] have no conception of the views of Russia, and it is not probable that they would league themselves with her. Nor can I think that they would . . . receive any help from Persia. . . .
The proclamation found in the tent of a Persian Prince is no proof of a secret understanding with Hindustan. It was . . . written with the view of . . . encouraging the Persians. The Mutinies are spoken of in order to keep up the spirit of the Persian Soldiers. There is nothing whatever to imply the existence of an understanding with the Mutineers.4
I see nothing strange in the . . . ex-King of Delhi having written a farman5 to the Persians. Such an imbecile was the ex-King that had one assured him that the angels of Heaven were his slaves, he would have . . . caused half a dozen farmans to be prepared immediately. The ex-King had a fixed idea that he could transform himself into a fly or gnat, and . . . convey himself to other countries, and learn what was going on there. Seriously, he firmly believed that he possessed this power of transformation. He was in the habit of asking his courtiers in [darbar] if it were not so, and his courtiers were not the men to undeceive him. Is there anything wonderful in . . . such a dotard writing a farman to any person . . . ? Surely not: But it is perfectly {95} incredible that such a farman should have formed the basis of any league. [. . .]
Nor do I believe that the annexation of [Awadh] was the cause of this rebellion. . . . [A]ll agreed in thinking that the . . . East India Company had acted in defiance of its treaties, and in contempt of the word which it had pledged. The people of [Awadh] felt . . . much as other men have felt whose countries have been annexed by the East India Company. [. . .] But . . . the men who would be most irritated and dismayed . . . were the noblemen, and . . . princes of Hindustan. These all saw that such a policy must lead to the overthrow of their own independence and confiscation of their . . . lands. Nevertheless we find that . . . not one of the great landed princes . . . espoused the rebel cause. The mutineers were for the most part men who had nothing to lose, the governed not the governing class. [. . .]
It must be remembered that the men who . . . raised so loud the cry of “Jihad!” were vagabonds and ill-conditioned men. They were wine-drinkers and men who spent their time in debauchery and dissipation. They were men floating without profession or occupation on the surface of society. Can such fellows as these be called leaders of a religious war? It was very little that they thought about religion. Their only object was to plunder Government Treasuries and . . . steal Government property. To be faithless to one’s salt is to disregard the first principles of our religion. To slaughter innocents, especially women, children, and old men, would be accounted abominable. Can it possibly be imagined, then, that this outbreak was . . . a religious war?
So too there never existed a previous understanding between the rebel army and the ex-King. [. . .] No one looked upon the King as sovereign or as consecrate, men used to flatter him to his face, and laugh at him behind his back. The people clung to him with no feeling of loyalty, but with a view to take their own advantage. Very likely privates and [subedars] in some of the regiments were in communication with him. This however does not prove that there was any general understanding between him and the mutineers. [. . .] It was impolitic and unwise of Government to keep up the semblance of a King at Delhi. [. . .] The King of Delhi was a spark from a furnace which, wafted by the wind, eventually set all Hindustan in a blaze.
{96} DOCUMENT 2
Mysterious Chapattis6
Main-ud-Din was a Muslim police official in Delhi on the eve of the rebellion. Like Syed Ahmad Khan, he too came from an Ashraf family long associated with the Mughals. As we will see, Main-ud-Din stayed at his post during the revolt and worked with the rebels; he later fled and went into hiding, having the following account, written in Urdu, sent to his former British supervisor Sir Charles Theophilus Metcalfe only after his death in Hyderabad in 1885. Main-ud-Din’s memoir, translated and published by Metcalfe, is one of the chief Indian sources for the rebellion.
In . . . February [1857] another signal was given by the . . . distribution of [chapattis] (flat unleavened cakes), an ominous sign. At the time I was “Thanadar” (Head Police Officer) of the [Paharganj] Police Station just outside the city of Delhi. Early one morning the village watchman of Indraput came and reported that the watchman of [Sarai Farrukh Khan] had brought him a [chapatti] (which he showed me) and had instructed him to cook five similar [chapattis], and send them to the five nearest villages . . . with orders that each village chowkidar was to make five similar ones for distribution. Each [chapatti] was to be made of barley and wheat flour, about the size of the palm of a man’s hand, and was to weigh two tolahs. I was astonished, yet I felt that the statement of the watchman was true, that there was importance in an event which undoubtedly created a feeling of great alarm . . . throughout Hindustan. No extraordinary incident occurred until it was rumoured that on February 26 the 19th Regiment . . . at [Berhampur] had refused to take cartridges served out to them, and that the 34th Regiment had behaved in a similar manner, and that seven companies of that regiment had been dismissed. When I heard this I suspected it was the beginning of a time of trouble. Information of the behaviour of the different regiments was widely circulated by the Press, in a native newspaper published at [Ambala]. Suspecting some significance in all this I deputed men at once to visit the whole of {97} my . . . jurisdiction, and, after ascertaining whether [chapattis] had already reached other villages, to forbid their circulation.
My younger brother, Mirza Mahommed Hossein Khan, was Thanadar of the police jurisdiction of Buddapur, about sixteen miles from Delhi. The same day that I received information about the circulation of [chapattis] in [Paharganj] I heard from my brother, by a mounted messenger, that [chapattis] were passing from village to village throughout his jurisdiction. . . . I wrote to him at once to use all his influence to prevent the circulation, and immediately sent word to the authorities.
“A Harvest of Revolt.”7
John William Kaye (1814–1876), author of this selection, was educated at the EIC military academy of Addiscombe and served in the Bengal Artillery from 1832 until 1841, when he married, resigned from the army, and took a job with a Calcutta-based newspaper, the Bengal Harkaru. In 1856, he joined the Bengal Civil Service, and upon the establishment of Crown rule in 1858, was appointed Secretary to the Secret and Political Department of the newly created India Office. Kaye was a prolific writer of articles, military and missionary history, and novels. Relocating to London, Kaye commenced the work quoted here, A History of the Sepoy War in India, the first volume of which appeared in 1864. Meticulously researched, using private and public British records available at the time, the work contains reflections like the one below, in which Kaye gives his creative writing skills and imagination free rein. Even so, this is an important passage, in which Kaye constructs the worldview and motivations of the sepoy rebels as the British imagined them.
As a soldier, [the sepoy] had . . . deteriorated, but he was not to be regarded only as a soldier. He was . . . representative . . . the embodiment of feelings and opinions shared by . . . his countrymen, and circumstances might one day render him their exponent. He had . . . opportunities of becoming {98} acquainted with . . . events and public opinion. He mixed in cantonments, or on the . . . march, with men of different classes and . . . countries; he corresponded with friends at a distance; he heard . . . the gossip of the Bazaars, and . . . read, or heard others read, the strange mixture of truth and falsehood . . . in the Native newspapers. He knew . . . the measures of the British Government, sometimes even . . . its intentions, and he interpreted their meanings, as men are wont to do, who, credulous and suspicious, see insidious designs and covert dangers in the most beneficent acts. He had not the faculty to conceive that the English were . . . originating great changes for the good of the people; our theories of government were beyond his understanding, and as he had ceased to take counsel with his English officer, he was given over to strange delusions, and believed the most dangerous lies.
[. . .] If the political and social revolutions did not affect him, they affected others . . . more astute, more designing, who put upon everything . . . we did the gloss best calculated to debauch the Sepoy’s mind, and . . . prepare him, at a given signal, for an outburst of sudden madness. Childish . . . in his faith, there was nothing easier than to make him believe all kinds . . . of fictions . . . in violent contradiction. . . . He was as ready to believe that the extension of our territory would throw him out of employment, as that it would inflict . . . double work. He did not choose between these extremes; he accepted both, and took the one or the other, as the humour pleased him. There were never wanting men to feed his imagination with the kind of aliment which pleased it best, and reason never came to his aid to purge him of the results of this gross feeding.
. . . [V]arious were the ingenious fictions woven with the purpose of upsetting the minds and uprooting the fidelity of the Sepoy. But diverse as they were . . . there was a . . . unity about them, for they . . . persuade[d] him that our measures were directed to one common end, the destruction of Caste, and the . . . introduction of Christianity. . . . If we annexed a province, it was to facilitate . . . proselytizing . . . and . . . increase the number of our converts. Our resumption operations were . . . for . . . destroying all the religious endowments of the country. Our legislative enactments were all tending to . . . the subversion of [Hinduism] and [Muhammadanism]. Our educational measures were . . . direct assaults upon the religions of the country. Our penal system . . . disguised a monstrous attempt to annihilate caste, by compelling men of all denominations to feed together in gaols. In the Lines of every regiment there were men eager to tell lies . . . to the Sepoy, mingled with assurances that the {99} time was coming when the [farangis] would be destroyed . . . when a new empire would be established, and a new military system . . . under which the high rank and . . . higher pay monopolized by the English would be transferred to the people of the country. We know so little of what is stirring in the depths of Indian society; we dwell so much apart from the people; we see so little of them, except in full dress and on their best behaviour, that perilous intrigues and desperate plots might be woven, under the very shadow of our bungalows, without our perceiving any symptoms of danger. But still less can we discern that quiet undercurrent of hostility which is continually flowing . . . without any immediate or definite object, and which . . . would baffle all our efforts to trace it to its source. But it does not the less exist because we are ignorant of the form which it assumes, or the fount from which it springs. The men, whose business it was to corrupt the minds of our Sepoys, were, perhaps, the agents of . . . old princely houses, which we had destroyed, or members of old baronial families . . . we had brought to poverty and disgrace. They were, perhaps, the emissaries of Brahminical Societies, whose precepts we were turning into folly, and whose power we were setting at naught. They were, perhaps, mere visionaries and enthusiasts, moved . . . by their own imaginations to proclaim the coming of some new prophet or some fresh avatar of the Deity, and the consequent downfall of Christian supremacy in the East. But whatsoever the nature of their mission, and whatsoever the guise they assumed, whether they appeared in the Lines as . . . travelers, as journeying hawkers, as religious mendicants, or as wandering puppet-showmen, the seed of sedition which they scattered struck root in a soil well prepared to receive it, and waited only for the ripening sun of circumstance to develop a harvest of revolt.
“Are We Conquerors . . . or Are We Not?”8
Australian-born John Lang came to India as a young attorney, and he soon found Indian clients, among them Lakshmi Bai, {100} the dispossessed Rani of Jhansi, to whom he provided legal services. In this passage, he has joined a sepoy battalion, marching to Agra, and upon sighting the Taj Mahal across the Yamuna River, a British lieutenant tells him why he thinks old Mughal monuments should be torn down.
“Yes; that is the Taj, the tomb of a woman, the wife of the Emperor Shah Jahan. The pure white marble . . . was brought from Ajmere. For . . . twenty-five years, twenty-five thousand men were employed . . . on that edifice. I am afraid to say how many millions it cost. The [Marathas] carried away the huge silver gates and made them into rupees. [. . .] The original idea was to build a . . . tomb on this side of the river for the Emperor himself. . . . A very pretty idea, was it not? Lord William Bentinck was for pulling the Taj down and selling the marble, or using it for building purposes.”
“Impossible!”
“Not at all. [Bentinck] thought it . . . impolitic to allow these gorgeous edifices to stand—these monuments of folly, extravagance, and superstition, which . . . [led] the natives to draw . . . comparisons between the simple and economical structures of the British and these stupendous . . . erections of the [Mughal] Emperors. And most assuredly our bungalows, churches, and other buildings do present a . . . beggarly appearance alongside these masses of polished marble and red stone. It looks as though we had no confidence in our hold of the country, and . . . would not go to any expense worth speaking of. Look at our court-houses in the civil lines, as that part of Agra is called—a parcel of paltry brick and mortar pigeon-holes, not to be compared with the tenements that . . . menial servants of the Emperors inhabited. Look at the Government House, the Metcalfe Testimonial, and other paltry European edifices.”
“Surely,” said I, “you would preserve rather than deface or destroy these magnificent works of art—these wonders of the world?”
“Works of art and wonders of the world they doubtless are; but . . . I would pull down every one of them, and convert the material into useful buildings—barracks—splendid barracks for our British and native troops; hospitals, worthy of being called hospitals; court-houses, churches, magazines, and so forth.”
“But what barbarians the natives would think us!”
{101} “What does that signify? Are we the conquerors of the country, or are we not? As to what they would think of us, they can’t think much worse of us than they do already. Do we not eat swine’s flesh? And do not English ladies dance (the natives call it ‘jumping about’), and with men who are not their husbands? Barbarians! Why, the very dress we wear renders us barbarians in their sight.”
An Indian Official’s Critique of the Raj9
Here, Syed Ahmad Khan discusses what he believes to be the key causes of the rebellion of 1857—namely, the profound lack of intercultural knowledge among both Indians and the British, and government policies proceeding from this lack of basic understanding.
The men who have ruled India should never have forgotten that they were here . . . [as] foreigners, that they differed from its natives in religion, in customs, in habits of life and of thought. The security of a Government . . . is founded on its knowledge of the character of the governed, as well on its careful observance of their rights and privileges. Look back at . . . History . . . and you will . . . be struck with the differences and distinctions that have existed between the manners, the opinions, and the customs of the various races of men: differences which have been acquired by no written rule, or prescribed by any printed form. They are in every instance the inheritance of the peculiar race. It is to these differences . . . that the laws must be adapted, for they cannot be adapted to the laws. In their . . . observance lies the welfare and security of Government. From the beginning of things, to disregard these had been to disregard the nature of man, and the neglect of them has . . . been the cause of universal discontent. Can we forget the confusion that ensued on the acceptance of the [Diwani of Bengal] by the British Government . . . a confusion brought about by the ignorance {102} then prevailing? [. . .] Who, on the contrary, does not remember the prosperity of Bengal . . . under Warren Hastings? I attribute it to the knowledge of its peculiarities and the acquaintance with the Vernacular which obtained in those days.
To form a Parliament from the natives of India is . . . out of the question. It is not only impossible, but useless. There is no reason however why the natives of this country should be excluded from the Legislative Council, and here it is that you come upon the one great root of all this evil. Here is the origin of all the troubles that have befallen Hindustan. From causes connected with this matter sprang all the evil that has lately happened.
I do not say that Government has made no attempt to acquaint itself with the characteristics and economy of the country. I am well aware that serious efforts have been made. The Regulations of Government, the Circulars of the Board of Revenue, and Mr. Thomason’s Directions to Revenue Officers are sufficient proof of this.10 But I do say that Government has not succeeded in acquainting itself with the daily habits, the modes of thought and of life, the likes, and dislikes, and the prejudices of the people. Our Government never knew what troubles each succeeding sun might bring with it to its subjects, or what sorrow might fall upon them with the night. Yet day by day troubles and anxieties were increasing upon them. Secret causes of complaint were rankling in their breasts. Little by little a cloud was gathering strength, which finally burst over us in all its violence.
[. . .] Government could never know the inadvisability of the laws and regulations . . . it passed. It could never hear . . . the voice of the people on such a subject. The people had no means of protesting against what they might feel to be a foolish measure, or of giving public expression to their own wishes. But the greatest mischief lay in this: that the people misunderstood the views and the intentions of Government. They misapprehended every act, and whatever law was passed was misconstrued by men who had no share in the framing of it, and hence no means of judging of its spirit. At length the [Hindustanis] fell into the habit of thinking that all the laws were passed . . . to degrade and ruin them, and to deprive them and their fellows of their religion. Such acts as were repugnant to native customs and character, whether in themselves good or bad, increased this suspicion. At last came the time when all men looked upon the English Government as {103} slow poison. . . . They learned to think that if today they escaped from the hands of Government, tomorrow they would fall into them; or that even if they escaped on the morrow, the third day would see their ruin. There was no man to reason with them, no one to point out . . . the absurdity of such ideas. When the Governors and the governed occupy relatively such a position as this, what hope is there of loyalty or of goodwill? Granted that the intentions of Government were excellent, there was no man who could convince the people of it; no one was at hand to correct the errors . . . they had adopted. And why? Because there was not one of their own . . . among the members of the Legislative Council. Had there been, these evils that have happened . . . would have been averted. The more one thinks the matter over, the more one is convinced that here we have the one great cause which was the origin of all smaller causes. . . .
[. . .]
I do not wish to enter here into the question as to how the ignorant and uneducated natives of Hindustan could . . . share in the deliberations of the Legislative Council: or . . . how they should be selected to form an assembly like the English Parliament. These are knotty points. All I wish to prove here is that such a step is not only advisable, but absolutely necessary, and that the disturbances are due to the neglect of such a measure. [. . .]
This mistake of the Government then made itself felt in every matter connected with Hindustan. All causes of rebellion, however various, can be traced to this one. And if we look at these various causes separately and distinctly, we shall I think find that they may be classed under five heads.
1. Ignorance on the part of the people: by which I mean misapprehension of the intentions of Government.
2. The passing of such laws and regulations and forms of procedure as jarred with the established customs and practice of Hindustan, and the introduction of such as were in themselves objectionable.
3. Ignorance on the part of the Government of the condition of the people; of their modes of thought and of life; and of the grievances through which their hearts were becoming estranged.
4. The neglect on the part of our rulers of such points as were essential to the good Government of Hindustan.
5. The bad management and disaffection of the army.
{104} DOCUMENT 6
“The Fat of Pigs and Cows.”11
In this selection, Lt. J. A. Wright, commanding the Rifle Instruction Depot at Dum-Dum, sends in the first official report regarding sepoy concern about the Enfield cartridges, dated January 22, 1857.
I have the honour to report, for the information of Major Bontein, commanding the Depot, that there appears to be a very unpleasant feeling . . . among the native soldiers who are here for instruction, regarding the grease used in preparing the cartridges, some evil disposed persons having spread a report that it consists of a mixture of the fat of pigs and cows.
. . . [B]elief in this report has been strengthened by the behaviour of a khalasi attached to the magazine, who, I am told, asked a sepoy of the 2nd Regiment, Native (Grenadier) Infantry, to supply him with water from his lota; the sepoy refused, observing he was not aware of what caste the man was. The khalasi immediately rejoined—“You will soon lose your caste, as ere long you will have to bite cartridges covered with the fat of pigs and cows”—or words to that effect.
Some of the depot men, in conversing with me on the subject last night, said that the report has spread throughout India, and when they go to their homes their friends will refuse to eat with them. I assured them (believing it to be the case) that the grease used is composed of mutton fat and wax; to which they replied—“It may be so, but our friends will not believe it; let us obtain the ingredients from the [bazaar] and make it up ourselves; we shall then know what is used, and be able to assure our fellow-soldiers and others that there is nothing in it prohibited by our caste.”
In conclusion, I . . . respectfully beg to represent that by adopting the measure suggested by the men . . . misunderstanding regarding the religious prejudices of the natives . . . will be prevented.
The sepoys’ objection is clarified somewhat in this semiofficial letter from Col. A. Abbott, inspector general of Ordinance and {105} Magazines, to Maj. W. Mayhew, deputy adjutant general of the Army, January 27, 1857.
I hear that an objection has been made by the sepoys to [using] the cartridges made for Enfield rifles agreeably to the instructions sent from home [i.e., Britain], because one end of each cartridge (that which contains the ball) is greasy.
It is . . . necessary that grease should be used, and the composition . . . is said to be unfit for cartridges. It was of [coconut] oil and beeswax. The present grease is tallow. I think that a committee had better decide what grease shall be employed. In the meantime practice cartridges may be issued to sepoys without grease, and the men may see that grease of unobjectionable quality is applied.
The wax and oil would . . . answer well enough if used immediately, though it dries up if the cartridges are kept long in store.
The day after the above letter was written, Major General James Hearsey, commanding the Presidency Division, sent the following report to the deputy adjutant general from the division HQ at Barrackpur.
. . . [A]n ill-feeling is said to subsist in the minds of the sepoys . . . at [Barrackpur]. A report has been spread by some designing persons, most likely Brahmins or agents of the religious Hindu party in Calcutta, (I believe it is called the [Dharma Sabha]), that . . . the sepoys are to be forced to embrace the Christian faith.
On this report was grafted, as an overt act to cause them to lose caste, the distributing amongst them of ball cartridges for the new Enfield rifle that had the paper forming them greased with the fat of cows and pigs.
[. . .]
[T]he circumstance of a sergeant’s bungalow being burnt down at [Raniganj], supposed to have been caused by an incendiary, (a wing of the 2nd Regiment . . . from this station, being now there), and also three . . . fires having occurred at this station within the last four days—one, the electric telegraph bungalow, and since then two bungalows that were unoccupied . . . as also Ensign F. E. A. Chamier, 34th Regiment . . . having taken a lighted arrow from the thatch of his own bungalow—has confirmed in my mind that this incendiarism is caused by ill-affected men, who wish . . . to make known or spread a spirit of {106} discontent, and induce the sepoys to believe they are all labouring under some grievance, which they have not the manliness to make known to their officers.
[. . .]
Brigadier Grant directed commanding officers of regiments at this station the day before yesterday to parade their corps, and ask them if they had any grievance. . . . Three . . . officers have reported their men to be . . . satisfied, and Col. S. G. Wheler, Commanding the 34th Regiment . . . assured them the rumour . . . was false, and the native officers and men said they were satisfied . . . but one native officer respectfully asked if any orders had been received regarding the Enfield rifle cartridges. This [Wheler] could not answer, as the letter permitting the ghee or other material to be used for that purpose by the men only arrived this morning.12 I have . . . directed its contents to be made known to every regiment in the cantonment, and a copy to be sent to . . . Dum-Dum, for Major Bontein’s information.
An Inquiry into the Enfield Cartridge13
On the morning of February 6, 1857, a court of inquiry convened in the mess hall of the 34th NI at Barrackpur to investigate the sepoys’ fears regarding the Enfield cartridge. The following are excerpts from the court transcripts made that day.
1st Witness—Byjonath Pandey, sepoy, 5th Company, 2nd Regiment, Native (Grenadier) Infantry, appears in Court, and . . . voluntarily states as follows:
Q. Were you on parade on the evening of the 4th instant, when the new cartridges . . . were shown to the men of the regiment?
A. I was.
{107} Q. Did you make any objection to the materials of which those cartridges were composed?
A. I felt some suspicion in regard to the paper, if it might not affect my caste.
Q. What reason have you to suppose that there is anything in the paper which would injure your caste?
A. Because it is a new description of paper . . . which I have not seen before.
Q. Have you ever seen or heard from anyone that the paper is composed of anything which is objectionable to your caste?
A. I heard a report that there was some fat in the paper; it was a [bazaar] report.
Q. Are these the cartridges and paper which you examined on the parade? (The paper and cartridges being shown to the witness.)
A. Yes.
Q. The Court from a careful examination of the papers of which the cartridges are made up are unable to detect anything beyond the appearance of ordinary paper. Examine the paper again carefully in the light, and endeavour to explain to the Court what you see objectionable in it.
A. My suspicion of the paper proceeds from its being stiff and like cloth in the mode of tearing it; it seems to us different from the old paper in use amongst us.
2nd Witness—Chand Khan, sepoy, 7th Company, 2nd Regiment. . . .
Q. Do you object to the paper of which the new cartridges are made, now lying before the Court; and if so, on what grounds?
A. I have no objection to the bullet or powder, it is only the paper which I have doubts about, which appears to be tough; and in burning it, it smells as if there was grease in it.
Q. Were you present when a piece of the paper was burnt, and when?
A. On the evening of the 4th instant a piece of the cartridge paper was dipped in water and afterwards burnt; when burning it made a fizzing noise and smelt as if there was grease in it.
{108} Q. Who were present when this . . . took place?
A. Two or three were present; I do not recollect what their names are.
[A piece of cartridge paper is burnt in court by the witness.]
Q. Are you still of the opinion that there is any smell of grease in it?
A. No, there is not.
Q. Have you now any objection to use these cartridges with paper of that description?
A. I object to this paper being used, as everyone is dissatisfied with it on account of its being glazed, shining like wax-cloth.
[. . .]
7th Witness—Jemadar Ram Singh, 9th Company, 2nd Regiment. . . .
Q. Have you any objection to the use of the cartridges now lying before you?
A. A report got about, which I think came from the magazine khalasis in Calcutta, that there was some grease in the paper; on this account, I have some suspicions about it.
Q. How can this suspicion be removed from your mind?
A. I cannot remove it.
8th Witness—Jemadar Wuzeer Khan, 7th Company, 2nd Regiment. . . .
Q. Have you any objection to the use of the cartridges lying upon the table?
A. I have no objection to it; it appears to be new.
Q. Would you have any objection to use it in the way that the old cartridges are used?
A. I should have some objection in consequence of the suspicion which exists generally in the cantonment.
{109} DOCUMENT 8
A Loyalist Sepoy’s Insights14
Shortly after the rebellion began, Subedar Sheikh Hidayat Ali of the Bengal Sikh Police Battalion—and a former sepoy—wrote the following regarding the causes of the rising in Urdu. The text was translated and forwarded to the European press by Capt. T. Rattray, his British commander.
. . . [T]he first symptoms of disaffection to the British . . . on the part of the Sepoys . . . [was] shown . . . when an army from [Hindustan] was ordered to [Kabul]. When this army crossed the Indus to Attock the Sepoys became discontented, grumbling, and angry. . . .
One of the customs of the [Hindus] is never to eat or cook their food until they have bathed and gone through other forms of their religion. When . . . the army reached Afghanistan, the [Hindus] left off bathing and the performance of other acts which their . . . religion demanded on account of the extreme cold, to which they were unaccustomed.
Whatever they purchased in the bazaar for their daily food they were compelled to take from the hands of [Muslims], because, in the [Kabul] country all the [banias] . . . are of the [Muhammadan] faith. . . . [T]o receive their bread from the hands of [Muhammadans caused the Hindu sepoys to fancy] they had lost their caste, and had been forced to become [Muslims]. . . .
When the winter set in . . . [Hindustani] Sepoys suffered . . . from the snow and cold. The . . . officers, pitying their condition, gave . . . each man a . . . jacket made of sheepskin, the wool worn inwards. The Sepoys . . . pretended to be . . . pleased . . . but . . . in their hearts were much displeased, because no [Hindu], except of the lowest caste, likes to touch the skin of a dead animal. Fearing to object, they consented to wear them. They thought and talked openly among themselves, “We must not show our anger and discontent . . . because if we do we shall never be able to return to [Hindustan], and we cannot live in this country.” [. . .] Don’t let any English gentleman think that the above is not true, because they were not acquainted with it at the time. A native of [Hindustan] seldom opens {110} his mind to his officer—he only says what he thinks would please his officer. The Sepoys reserve their real opinion until they return to their lines and . . . their comrades.
[. . .] I was then a private [in the 8th NI]. I visited nearly all the regiments that had returned from [Kabul], having many friends and acquaintances in them. The sepoys of all the regiments were displeased at having been sent to [Kabul], and said . . . that by going . . . they had become outcastes. . . . The [Muslims] . . . were displeased because . . . the British . . . had forced them to fight against people of their own creed, which was forbidden in the [Qur’an]. For saying this a [subedar] of the 27th Native Infantry was shot. . . . The [Muslims] . . . boasted among themselves how they . . . evaded the English order by never taking aim when they fired.
[After reviewing a series of sepoy protests regarding service conditions in Afghanistan and Sind—and the military authorities’ harsh responses to each “mutiny,” Sheikh Hidayat Ali discussed the batta crisis of 1850 during the occupation of Punjab.]
. . . [T]he British went to war with the Sikhs, and annexed the Punjab. . . . On the annexation the native army occupied the country, and the sepoys received double batta as long as they remained in the Punjab, but the British Government never openly proclaimed how long batta would be granted. From avarice and love of money the Sepoys liked serving in the Punjab. When the regiments in the Punjab had served a certain time they were relieved by other regiments from [Hindustan]. The relieving regiments were not allowed double batta, but drew what they would have drawn in their own provinces.
This was looked upon as a great grievance. For this reason the 66th at [Amritsar] mutinied and were disbanded, and in my . . . opinion was very properly treated; for if an army is faithless to its salt . . . of what good is it? [. . .] The 32nd and 22nd Native Infantry also showed symptoms of mutiny, but they were hushed up. [. . .]
Many commanding officers to my knowledge reported their regiments “all right” when they knew that there were discontent and bad feeling in the ranks, and . . . for the sake of the name of their . . . regiments concealed the real state of . . . [their troops] until . . . the Sepoys took to murdering their officers.
[. . .]
When the Government . . . issued the proclamation of the annexation [of Awadh] . . . the King of [Awadh] . . . issued a proclamation that on {111} no account should any of his subjects resist the British . . . and that when the British troops entered his territory all assistance in the shape of provisions should be afforded. The [sardars] of [Awadh] and the army of the King obeyed his order. The people of [Hindustan] likewise said, “The country of [Awadh] belongs to the King, and, whether he has done well or ill as regards his own Government, he has not injured or broken faith with the English in any way; if the British Government dethrones a king who has . . . been so faithful . . . what dependent Nawab or Rajah is safe?” For the abovementioned reasons every [sardar] who had anything to lose began to fear and suspect the British . . . but they felt . . . helpless, having no army with which to resist. . . .
The feeling of the people of [Awadh] became known to me . . . [when I] arrived at [Kanpur] on the 14th March 1856. On that day the Nawab of [Awadh] also reached [Kanpur] on the way to Calcutta. I remained at [Kanpur] six days, and had frequent interviews with the King’s [vakils], courtiers, and servants. No one but his own people ever saw the King. The principal people of [Kanpur], and many of the native officers and Sepoys from the regiment stationed at [Kanpur], had interviews with the [vakils] and servants of the King. They were all of the opinion that the Government had acted unjustly in annexing . . . [Awadh]. . . .
The [vakil], or minister, of the [Bithur] chief (the Nana Sahib) . . . was present, and said how displeased and angry his master was with the British for annexing [Awadh].
The [sarai] in which I had taken up my . . . abode became so full with the King’s people and their visitors that I was compelled to leave it. I went and lived with [Sheikh Rahim], a subadar of the 2nd Company of the 1st Native Infantry. I learnt from this officer that the Sepoys of his regiment were all indignant at the King of [Awadh] being dispossessed . . . and talked openly among themselves as to the little faith that could be placed in the English. . . .
The “Mangal Pandey” Incident15
Here we have Major General James Hearsey’s report to Maj. Birch, secretary to the Military Department, presenting the {112} division commander’s version of Mangal Pandey’s “mutiny” and capture at Barrackpur. The report is dated April 9, 1857, after the sepoy’s execution.
At 5:10 PM, of the 29th of March . . . one of the orderlies on duty at my quarters, a sepoy of the 34th Regiment . . . ran to the portico of my house to inform me that all the sepoys of the brigade were turning out on their parades, and men were running in that direction from all quarters of the cantonment. I . . . ordered my horse to be saddled, and put on my uniform, directing my son to load my revolvers and place them in the holsters of my saddle. Whilst this was being done, I . . . wrote two short notes, one addressed to Colonel Reed, Commanding Her Majesty’s 84th Foot, at Chinsurah, the other to Colonel Amsinck, Commanding Dum-Dum, to the purport that on receipt of these notes, they were instantly to move . . . the troops at their posts to [Barrackpur]. . . .
[After explaining that his plan, in the event of a mass mutiny, was to order the European officers and troops to withdraw to the governor general’s summer house and defend that position until relieved, Hearsey continued his narrative.]
I had just sealed these notes . . . when Lieutenant and Adjutant Powell of the 43rd Regiment . . . arrived . . . on horseback, with his hands and . . . clothes partly covered with blood, and . . . informed me that Lieutenant and Adjutant Baugh, 34th Regiment . . . had been fired upon on the parade of the 34th Regiment . . . and his horse had been shot, and that . . . Baugh had been cut down, as well as . . . Sergeant-Major J. T. Hewson of that corps, by a sepoy.
[After learning more details from a staff officer, Hearsey sent orders to Col. Wheler to shoot “the madman” who had run amok in the sepoy lines. He then mounted his horse and galloped to the 34th NI parade ground, accompanied by his sons—both Bengal Army officers—and preceded by a few staff officers.]
I saw the whole front of the bells-of-arms crowded with sepoys in their undress and unarmed, the native officers of the 43rd Regiment . . . with them, and endeavouring to keep them in order. The men of the 34th Regiment . . . had also turned out unarmed to the right and rear of the quarter-guard.
{113} . . . [Mangal Pandey] . . . was pacing up and down about eighty or ninety paces in front of the quarter-guard . . . calling out to the men of the brigade to join him to defend and die for their religion and . . . caste. “ . . . [T]he Europeans had arrived” (he alluded to a small party of fifty men of Her Majesty’s 53rd Foot, then at the Flagstaff Ghat . . . who were landing from the steamer that had arrived there from Calcutta). He called aloud to them—“You have incited me to do this, and now you [bahenchods] . . . you will not join me.”16
On seeing this man, I immediately rode to the quarter-guard . . . and saw the jamadar, [Ishwari Pandey], and about ten or twelve men had turned out, and were standing before the . . . [guardhouse].
My two sons and Major Ross accompanied me. I heard an officer shout out to me—“His . . . musket is loaded.” I replied—“Damn his musket.”
I ordered the jamadar and his guard to follow me. The jamadar said . . . “He is loaded . . . and he will shoot us.” I again (shaking my revolver, and pointing it partly towards him) sharply repeated the order. The jamadar looked askance at me and replied, “The men of the guard are putting caps on the nipples.” I said in a commanding tone, “Be quick and follow me,” and rode out in front towards the mutineer. The guard followed, my aide-de-camp on horseback close to the jamadar armed with his revolvers, my other son also close to the native officer similarly armed, Major Ross in rear of myself. As we approached the mutineer we quickened our pace. My son, Captain J. Hearsey, called to me—“Father, he is taking aim at you, look out sharp. . . .” I replied—“If I fall, John, rush upon him, and put him to death.” Immediately after . . . [Mangal Pandey] fired his musket, the whistle of the bullet was heard by the guard, for all but three men of it bent down . . . to avoid being struck. . . . It appeared the mutineer had suddenly altered his mind . . . seeing there was no chance of escape. . . . He turned his musket muzzle towards his own breast hurriedly, touching the trigger with his toe. The muzzle must have swerved, for the bullet made a deep graze, ripping up the muscles of the chest, shoulder, and neck, and he fell prostrate; we were on him at once. [. . .] His regimental jacket and clothes were on fire and smoking. I bid the jamadar and [a] sepoy to put the fire out, which they did. I then (thinking the mutineer was dying, for he was shivering and convulsed) directed Brigadier Grant (who had come up on foot) to form a court of inquest from the officers assembled there. Dr. Hutchinson being present, it was soon ascertained that the wound, {114} though severe, was superficial, and the man was conveyed to the hospital of the 34th Regiment . . . for medical treatment. He was handcuffed, and a guard placed over him. Before I quitted to go to my quarters, I rode amongst the sepoys of the 43rd Regiment, and reassured them that no person should . . . interfere with their religion and caste . . . whilst I commanded them. I then went . . . amongst the crowd of sepoys of the 34th Regiment . . . and also reassured them [but told] them they had not done their duty in allowing . . . [Mangal Pandey] to behave in the murderous manner he had done. They answered in one voice—“He is mad, he has taken bhang . . . to excess.” I replied—“Could you not have seized him, and if he resisted have shot him or maimed him?” [. . .] They said—“He had loaded his musket.” “What,” I replied, “are you afraid of a loaded musket[?]” They were silent. I bid them go quietly to their lines, and they did so, immediately obeying my orders.
Dalhousie and Nana Sahib17
On December 11, 1839, the Maratha Peshwa, Bajirao II, recognized Dhondu Pant Nana (Nana Sahib) as his heir, but noted that should he “beget a son of my own body,” then that son would inherit the gaddi, or throne-cushion of the peshwas, the Maharaja’s authority, wealth, estates, and so on. A will was drafted and witnessed, in 1841, informing the British government of this decision. In reality, Bajirao II lived in exile at Bithur on the banks of the Ganges, near Kanpur, ruling over a tiny estate. As far as the Company was concerned, the peshwa was their pensioner and prisoner. Eventually, Bajirao II died on January 28, 1851. In this selection, Lord Dalhousie replies to Nana Sahib’s request that he be recognized as his father’s heir.
Minute by the Most Noble the Governor-General of India
15th September 1851
{115} The Acting Commissioner18 urges that some portion of the annual pension of 8 [lakhs] formerly paid to the [peshwa] should be continued to his heirs.
The Lieutenant Governor [of the North-Western Provinces] does not concur in this recommendation.
I consider that the suggestion of the Acting Commissioner is uncalled for and unreasonable.
For thirty-three years the [peshwa] received an annual clear stipend of Rs. [800,000] besides the proceeds of his [jagir]. In that time he received the enormous sum of more than two Millions and a half Sterling.19 He had no charges to maintain, he has left no sons of his own; and has bequeathed property to the amount of twenty-eight [lakhs] to his family.
Those who remain have no claim whatever on the consideration of the British Government. They have no claim on its charity because the income left to them is amply sufficient for them. If it were not ample, the [peshwa] out of his vast revenues ought to have made it so; and the probability is, that the property left is in reality much larger than it is avowed to be. Wherefore under any circumstances the family have no claim upon the Government; and I will by no means consent to any portion of the public revenues being conferred upon it. I request that this determination of the Government of India be explicitly declared to the family without delay.
The Annexation of Awadh20
Main-ud-Din, the police official at Delhi, shows us how the annexation of Awadh was perceived by people living there, and how it was connected with the mutinies at Berhampur and Barrackpur.
. . . [H]owever the English may regard themselves, they are regarded by the natives as trespassers, and this feeling was intensified on the {116} annexation of . . . [Awadh]. Thence first arose dissatisfaction among the native troops, most of whom were natives of that province. [. . .]
The English are familiar with the views of English writers on the causes of the mutiny of the Indian Army. These views differ in some respects from those held by natives, who trace the outbreak to a different source.
When Amjad Ali Shah Padshah, King of Lucknow, died in 1847, he was succeeded by [Wajid Ali Shah], who devoted himself to the organization of the [Awadhi] Army. [. . .]
This activity of the King created suspicion. The British Resident inquired the cause of his exertions in creating an army, and suggested to him that if he required forces . . . he should employ British troops, to be paid out of the revenues of [Awadh]. The courtiers . . . advised him not to raise suspicion. . . . The King, discouraged . . . replied that he would employ himself in future with some other occupation. . . . Henceforward he began to neglect the affairs of the State, and took pleasure in debauchery. The former Minister . . . was removed . . . and Ali Tuki Khan, a man of good family . . . appointed to succeed him. The King married the niece of his new Minister, and then his daughter. He left the management of all the affairs of State to Ali Tuki Khan.
[In due course, one of Wajid Ali’s favorites, Raja Darshan Singh, built up a large personal estate near Faizabad by abusing his position as chakladar, or royal revenue collector. When his sons seized a masjid and its waqf lands at Hanumanjari, near Faizabad, forbidding the azaan (or call to prayer) to be sounded there, communal (i.e., Hindu-Muslim) rioting ensued. The rioting escalated, and Wajid Ali’s troops eventually became involved, as did the so-called “Maulvi of Faizabad,” whose followers eventually attacked the troops sent from Lucknow to restore order. This supposedly convinced the British of the need to annex Awadh immediately.]
On the 17th of February, 1856, the British annexed [Awadh]. They little anticipated the result. Thousands of men in the service of the King were thereby thrown out of employment. . . . The worse the administration had been, the greater was the multitude of soldiers, courtiers, police, and landholders who had fattened on it.
Those who had petitioned the English for redress were the poor and the oppressed. But the oppressors saw in British rule their own suppression. [Awadh] was the birthplace of the [Purbiya] race, and these feelings {117} of dissatisfaction affected the whole [Purbiya] race in the service of the British Government. To the native mind the act of annexation was one of gross injustice, and provoked a universal desire for resistance.
The King and all those connected with him, although bowing to the hand of fate, became henceforward the bitter enemies of the English. At this time there were . . . at Lucknow two regiments, the 19th and 34th [Native Infantry]. . . . They had frequent consultations . . . on the injustice of the step which had been taken, and on the resistance which should be offered. . . . It so happened that at the time of the annual change of regiments in 185721 one of these two regiments was sent to [Berhampur], the other to Barrackpur. Both these regiments were full of bitterness toward the English . . . and from them letters were written to other [Purbiya] regiments. The 34th took the lead. These letters reminded every regiment of the ancient dynasties of Hindustan; pointed out that the annexation of [Awadh] had been followed by the disbandment of the [Awadh] army, for the second time since the connection of the English with [Awadh]; and showed that their place was being filled by the enlistment of Punjabis and Sikhs, and the formation of a Punjab army. The very bread had been torn out of the mouths of men who knew no other profession than that of the sword. The letters went on to say that further annexations might be expected, with little or no use for the native army. Thus was it pressed upon the Sepoys that they must rebel to reseat the ancient kings on their thrones, and drive the trespassers away. The welfare of the soldier caste required this; the honour of the chiefs was at stake. . . .
The 3rd Light Cavalry’s Protest22
On April 24, 1857, Col. George Munro Carmichael-Smyth, commanding the 3rd LC at Meerut, near Delhi, wrote the following report of how his attempt to persuade his unit’s skirmishing troop to adopt the new method of loading their carbines backfired. The {118} new method had been devised at Dum-Dum, and was supposedly based on sepoys’ actual practice.
. . . [Y]esterday I ordered a parade to take place this morning . . . [to show] the men the new mode by which they might load their carbines without biting their cartridges, and late in the evening I received information from the havildar-major that the men of the 1st Troop would not receive their cartridges (which were the same that they had always used), and my adjutant received a letter from Captain Craigie . . . which is enclosed.
This morning I explained to the men my reason for ordering the parade, and I first ordered the havildar-major to show them the new way of loading, which he did, and fired off his carbine. I then ordered the cartridges to be served out, but, with the exception of the men noted in the margin [of this report] they all refused to receive them, saying they would get a bad name . . . but that if all the regiments would take their cartridges, they would do so. I explained to them that they were not new cartridges . . . and once more called on them to receive the cartridges, saying—“You see the havildar-major has used one”; but . . . they . . . still refused; after which I ordered the adjutant to dismiss the men, as they were too large a party to send to the guard.23 The party consisted of 90 men.
Here is Capt. Henry C. Craigie’s note to the Adjutant of the 3rd LC, alluded to in Col. Carmichael-Smyth’s report.
Go at once to Smyth and tell him that the men of my troop have requested in a body that the skirmishing tomorrow morning may be countermanded, as there is a commotion throughout the native troops about cartridges, and that the regiment will become [badnam]24 if they fire any cartridges. I understand that in all six troops a report of the same kind is being made. This is a most serious matter, and we may have the whole regiment in mutiny in half an hour if this be not attended to. Pray don’t lose a moment, but go to Smyth at once.
We have none of the objectionable cartridges, but the men say that if they fire any kind of cartridge at present they lay themselves open to {119} the imputation from their comrades and from other regiments of having fired the objectionable ones.
Mutiny at Meerut, May 10, 185725
The court martial of the eighty-five “mutineers” of the 3rd LC led to the spectacle of a punishment parade, in which the men were sentenced before being manacled and chained together in front of the entire Meerut garrison. A bloody mutiny followed on Sunday, May 10. Here, Major General William H. Hewitt, commanding the Meerut Division, reports the disaster to Col. C. Chester, adjutant general, then at Simla.
I regret . . . to report that the Native troops at Meerut broke out yesterday evening in open mutiny. About 6:30 PM, the 20th Regiment . . . turned out with arms. They were reasoned with by their officers, when they reluctantly returned to their lines, but immediately after they rushed out again and began to fire. The 11th Regiment . . . had turned out with their officers, who had perfect control over them, inasmuch as they persuaded them not to touch their arms till Colonel Finnis had reasoned with the mutineers, in doing which he was I regret to say, shot dead. After which act, the 20th Regiment . . . fired into the 11th Regiment . . . who then desired their officers to leave them, and apparently joined the mutineers. The 3rd Regiment, Light Cavalry, at the commencement mounted a party . . . [which] galloped down to the jail to rescue the 85 men of the corps who were sentenced by the Native General Court-martial, in which they succeeded, and at the same time liberated all the other prisoners, about 1,200 in number. The mutineers then fired nearly all the bungalows in rear of the centre lines south of the [nallah],26 including {120} Mr. Greathed’s, the Commissioner’s, and mine, together with the Government cattle-yard and commissariat officer’s house and office. In this they were assisted by the population of the [cantonment] bazaar, the city, and the neighbouring villages. Every European man, woman, and child fallen in with them was ruthlessly murdered. . . .
As soon as the alarm was given, the Artillery, Carabineers, and 60th Rifles27 were got under arms, but by the time we reached the Native infantry parade ground it was too dark to act with efficiency in that direction, consequently the troops were retired to the north of the [nallah], so as to cover the barracks and officers’ lines of the Artillery, Carabineers, and 60th Rifles, which were, with the exception of one house, preserved. . . . At break of day the force was divided—one half left on guard, and the other taken to reconnoitre and patrol the Native lines. [. . .] I am led to think the outbreak was not premeditated, but the result of a rumour that a party was parading to seize their arms, which was strengthened by the fact that the 60th Rifles [paraded] . . . for evening church service.
A Spy’s Account of the Rising at Delhi28
At Agra, William Muir was placed in charge of the Intelligence Department of the North-Western Provinces. From this outpost, in the midst of rebel-held territory, he operated a ring of Indian spies who infiltrated the rebel camps and sent in a steady stream of reports. These informants gave the British a clearer understanding of the difficulties faced by the insurgents—problems that could be exploited in order to put down the revolt. The following is an account of rebel activities at Delhi by Kashi Prasad, a {121} former vakil who had become a saltpeter trader at Agra, and was trapped in Delhi, where he had gone to recover from an illness.
. . . [Delhi] was perfectly quiet and unconscious of the coming commotion till nine o’clock on Monday the 11th May. We knew that there had been discontent and burning of bungalows at [Ambala], but we had no conception that any outbreak would take place at Meerut. Rode out on horseback as usual in the morning—all was as usual.
[. . .]
I heard that the [rebel] Cavalry had . . . crossed the bridge [over the Yamuna] and plundered the Toll-box there. Then they came to the Palace, and demanded admission to the King, who hastily summoned the [qiladar], Captain Douglas.29 Captain Douglas sent to say he was undressed, but the King desired him to come quickly as he was, so he went. Meanwhile, the Cavalry men were warned off from the apartment where the King was—it being private—but they didn’t mind the remonstrance of the Guards, and forced their way in.
The Cavalry on their arrival opposite the Palace first killed Chimman [Lal], the Christian Sub-Assistant Surgeon. Then they met four gentlemen in buggies, and shot them; one of their own number (Narain Singh) being killed. Mr. Fraser at that moment arrived at the gate, went in, tried to shut the gate, but from the crowd . . . could not succeed. He reached the stairs, but was killed there after defending himself with his pistol. . . . He had called on the King to bring out his guns.30
Douglas was upstairs. He called [Ahsanullah Khan Hakim] to take care of the ladies; and he placed them in a position of safety. They were all killed.
Then the whole City was in an uproar—shops closed, fighting, etc.
About noon the Rebels put the King on the throne, and . . . led Mirza [Mughal], his son, through the City to restore confidence.
The King told the Rebels he was a . . . Pensioner, couldn’t help them . . . or pay them. They replied that he was not to mind; they didn’t want pay, etc.
{122} When the tumult was first heard the Officers ordered out the Regiments, but when they were drawn up some of the rebel Cavalry appeared. The Regiments were . . . [ordered] to fire on them. They fired, but high. An officer fired a pistol at a Cavalry man, but was killed in the scuffle. Then the Regiments told their Officers to go. All who went away got off; those who made any opposition were seized or killed.31
The Officers at the Main Guard were said to be blown from guns by the troops.
About 4 p.m. the Magazine was blown up. Five or six hundred men were killed or wounded. At night the bungalows were burnt.
Bahadur Shah, Reluctant Rebel King?32
Here, Munshi Jiwan Lal, a courtier at the Red Fort and an eyewitness to the insurgents’ seizure of Delhi, describes how Bahadur Shah II struggled to assert his new authority at the head of a restless rebel army. As the following document attests, the meeting of Mughal court culture with the sepoys’ earthy peasant manners was jarring for those accustomed to royal protocol.
On this morning ([May] 12th) the whole body of native officers of the regiments that had arrived yesterday concerted together and demanded an audience with the King. It was granted; the native officers presented [nazars] (tribute money) and described themselves as faithful soldiers awaiting his orders. Hakim Ahsanullah Khan33 . . . warned the King that no dependence could be placed on them, and expressed the fear that as soon as a sufficient number of them had been gathered together there would be a general plunder of the city. Later in the day Hakim Ahsanullah took {123} counsel with . . . the leading men of the city. [. . .] Their former connection with the [Muhammadan] power was appealed to, and they were desired to form an executive council for the purpose of maintaining order . . . and providing food for the soldiery. Hassan Ali absolutely refused. . . . The council broke up without any definite decision, beyond arranging for supplies of food for the soldiers to prevent their plundering. [. . .] [Muhammad] Mir Nawab, son of Tafagul Hussein, Pleader of the Civil Court, was appointed Governor of the City. All trade in the city ceased entirely, for every shop that was open was cleared of its contents. Nawab Hamud Ali Khan was this day accused of concealing Europeans. . . . The Nawab was then dragged to the Palace, and only released under orders from the King’s Wazir; the soldiery only consenting to his release on the condition that his house . . . be . . . searched, and that he should be dealt with as they pleased, should a single European be found concealed there. Letters were despatched to the rajas of Patiala, Jajjar, Bulugarh, Bahadurgarh, and Ellore34 to march at once upon Delhi with all their forces to join the King’s army, and to repel any attack on the city by the English. All this afternoon the Palace was thronged by a turbulent mob of soldiers, calling out that all the grain-shops were closed and the King’s loyal servants were starving. The soldiers demanded of the King that he . . . pass through the city accompanied by his Army, and . . . allay the fears of the citizens and order the people to resume their ordinary occupations. The King yielded, and, mounted on an elephant, passed in procession through the streets. He did personally order the shops to be reopened, and some were opened and again closed; but the shopkeepers generally were deaf to his orders. When the King returned to the Palace, he found the courtyard of the [Diwan-i-Khas]35 crowded with troopers and their horses. They assailed him with loud cries, complaining that the men of the regiment[s] which had mutinied at Delhi had possessed themselves of the treasure from the Delhi collectorate, intending to keep it, and had refused to share it with the Meerut mutineers. The King . . . distracted and bewildered in the conflicting counsels, ordered the Princes, who had been appointed to the command of the troops, to send every mutineer out of the city, locating regiments in separate places, and leaving only one regiment in the Palace for the defence of the city. . . . [. . .] The King pointed out to some of the {124} [subedars] present that the [Diwan-i-Khas] had hitherto been an enclosure sacred to Royalty alone, and had never before been forcibly entered by armed men. [. . .] From house to house the unwilling King was distracted by cries and petitions—now from the servants of Europeans who had been murdered, now from the shopkeepers whose shops had been plundered, now from the higher classes whose houses had been broken into—all looked to the King for immediate redress. Appeals were made to him to repress the plunder and rapine now common throughout the city.
The King, in a Persian rubakari, beautiful with flowing language, called on all the [subedars] to remember that such a state of things was . . . unbecoming in the reign of a [Muhammadan] king who was a bright light in the histories of the world, and at whose feet all other kings . . . waited on bended knee. . . . Towards evening, a number of his native regimental officers came and again represented the difficulty . . . in getting rations. Forgetful of the lofty tone of the morning’s order, and of the high-toned phraseology expressive of the King’s dignity, they addressed him . . . “I say, you King! I say, you old fellow!”. . . .36 “Listen!” cried one, catching him by the hand. “Listen to me,” said another, touching the old King’s beard. Angered at their behaviour, yet unable to prevent their insolence, he found relief . . . in bewailing before his servants his misfortunes and his fate. . . . Throughout this eventful day he was distraught, perplexed, and cowed at finding himself in a position which made him the mere puppet of those who had formerly been only too glad humbly to obey his orders, but who now, taking advantage of the spirit of insubordination which was rife in all classes . . . in this day of ruin and riot, were not ashamed to mock and humiliate him.
Sir Henry Lawrence in Awadh37
At the same time as the mutiny at Meerut, and the rebel seizure of Delhi, the garrison at Lucknow was also brought to the brink of open insurrection. British official Martin Gubbins describes how {125} the situation in Awadh began to deteriorate, and how Sir Henry Lawrence, the newly appointed chief commissioner, sought to placate the sepoy garrison at Lucknow even as he used clear threats of violence to uphold the Company’s power.
In . . . April 1857, uneasiness . . . began to be felt . . . at Lucknow respecting the . . . native soldiery quartered . . . [there]. During the preceding months the newspapers had made known the general repugnance felt by the sepoys to the use of the new cartridges. We had heard of the mutiny of the 19th Regt . . . at [Berhampur], and its disbandment at [Barrackpur]. The feeling of the disbanded soldiers was anything but friendly; and, as many of them resided in [Awadh], no good effect was expected . . . from their return to the Province. [. . .] We were aware that the feeling of the native troops at Ambala was far from good. At that station a school of musketry had been formed, where . . . sepoys were to be taught the use of the Enfield rifle cartridge. Detachments from a large number of regiments were there collected, including those . . . at Lucknow. And from the officers so detached . . . accounts . . . reached us of the disaffection of the soldiery, particularly of the 60th N.I. [. . .]
Towards the close of March, Sir Henry Lawrence arrived at Lucknow . . . [as] Chief Commissioner; and the influence of his kind and conciliatory demeanour towards the native community was soon felt. [. . .] Affable, and easily approached . . . sympathizing with all who had lost consideration, or the means of respectable maintenance by the British annexation . . . he was eminently calculated to soothe the public mind. The native gentry hastened to wait upon him; all returned from the interview satisfied and hopeful. [. . .]
[In early April, however, a European surgeon attached to the 48th NI used a bottle of medicine intended for the sepoys, touching his lips to the spout. Col. Palmer managed to calm down his troops, but the surgeon’s bungalow was later burned down.]
[I]t . . . [soon] became known that the regiment was disaffected. Some of the native officers were reported by the police to be intriguing with one [Rukn-ud-Daula] and [Mustafa Ali], relatives of the ex-King . . . residing in the city. It was believed that they had proposed that some member of the Royal Family of [Awadh] should place himself at their head. . . . Captain Adolphus Orr, commanding one of the regiments of military {126} police, reported that an attempt had been made by some sepoys of the 48th to tamper with a native guard of his regiment. Despite all these reports . . . the officers of the [48th] . . . maintained . . . unshaken confidence in the fidelity of their men. . . .
Seeing the state of things, Sir Henry Lawrence vigorously applied himself to concentrate his military resources. The faulty and imperfect arrangement of these . . . had struck him on his first arrival, and must be here described.
The headquarters of the Chief Commissioner were at the Residency . . . in the city, close to the river [Gomati] . . . a quarter of a mile from the iron bridge. About the Residency were . . . clustered several substantial buildings . . . which formed the residences and contained the offices of the judicial and financial commissioners, the civil surgeon, and others. Here also were the Treasury, the Hospital, and Thuggee Department Gaol.38 . . . Native Infantry, weekly relieved from the cantonments, guarded the Residency and Treasury. The sepoys occupied a curved line of buildings outside the principal gate leading to the Residency, [and] . . . others close to the Treasury, [called the] . . . “Baillie Guard”. . . . About a mile and a half to the eastward was . . . the only European infantry . . . in the Province—H.M.’s 32nd Regt., the depot and many women belonging to which were at [Kanpur]. The men occupied a cruciform building called the “Chowpeyrah Istubul.” . . . The officers were scattered about the neighbourhood.39
[. . .]
Three miles from the Residency . . . north of the [Gomati], was the old British . . . cantonment. . . . Here, the officers resided in . . . thatched bungalows, each surrounded by . . . [a] “compound,” while the native troops occupied rows of low thatched huts fronting their . . . parades. Between the native lines and the parade ground stood the bells of arms, each containing the arms of one company; one building, larger than the rest, on the right of the bells of arms, being the regimental magazine. [. . .]
{127} On the 7th of May mutiny first appeared in . . . the 7th [Oudh Irregular] Infantry, stationed at Musa Bagh. Captain Graydon, the Commandant, had gone on sick leave to the hills, and the regiment was temporarily commanded by Lieutenant J. T. Watson. The recruits of this regiment refused to use their cartridges. . . .
[. . .]
All attempts to restore the regiment to obedience having failed, Sir Henry Lawrence resolved to employ force . . . to disarm them. This was . . . necessary, for the mutineers . . . [had sought] the aid . . . of the 48th N.I. in cantonments. . . . [T]hey addressed a missive to . . . one of the [subedars of that regiment]. It was stated in the [Hindi] letter that they had taken this step from religious considerations, and they called on the 48th as their ‘elders’ or ‘superiors’ to support them. Fortunately, no one was found immediately who could read the note; and it fell into the hands of the young sepoy who was writer40 in the office of the Adjutant, Lieutenant Smith. Perceiving its seditious import, he told the [subedar] that it could not be read aloud, and then both . . . deliver[ed] it up to the adjutant and commanding officer. [. . .] Accordingly, Sir Henry Lawrence ordered the European Infantry and guns, two regiments of N.I., and the 7th Light Cavalry, with Gall’s Horse,41 to march upon the mutineers. The orders were issued late on Sunday, the 10th of May. . . . [. . .]
We42 found . . . [the sepoys] drawn up by a bright moonlight in line. The guns . . . and . . . European Infantry were so disposed as to be able to turn their fire upon the regular native regiments should they fail in their duty. Sir Henry Lawrence with his staff occupied the space between the guns and the mutineers. Some . . . delay occurred while the last-arrived corps . . . [moved] into . . . place, during which . . . one of the artillery [sergeants] lighted a port fire.43 [. . .] [N]ot many moments elapsed . . . before [the mutinous sepoys] were . . . running. Gaps . . . appeared . . . in the line, and then the great mass of the regiment broke and fled. About 120 men stood still. A squadron of the 7th Light Cavalry galloped off to intercept the fugitives. Sir Henry rode up to the men that remained, and bade {128} them lay down on the ground with their muskets and accoutrements. The order was at once obeyed: the men laid down their pieces and took off their cross-belts, with subdued exclamations of, “[Jai Kompani ki, Jai Kompani Bahadur ki.”44 They were then told to go to their lines. . . . [. . .]
Having thus vigorously put down the first overt act of mutiny, Sir Henry applied himself to conciliate the native soldiery. . . . Instructions were addressed to the civil officers to give precedence of hearing to those cases in which a sepoy was a party, and the Chief Commissioner himself . . . visited the native lines and hospitals, and conversed familiarly with the men.
Behind the Rebel Lines at Delhi45
This selection continues William Muir’s interpretation of Kashi Prasad’s account of the revolt at Delhi, offering insight into how the insurgents tried to keep order in the city even as they struggled with British forces sent to recapture the old Mughal capital.
When tidings came of an English force being at [Ghaziabad], troops went out from Delhi to oppose them. The second time46 they were accompanied by Abu Bakr, the King’s son, Captain of the Cavalry.
They were completely beaten, and Delhi was . . . in such a fright that if the Europeans had . . . [attacked] . . . it could not have offered any resistance.
After that the Europeans came to the heights outside Delhi, and there was fighting every two or three days. Then the shells began to fall thick in the City, and the distress . . . [was] indescribable. . . .
The Delhi troops are ordinarily . . . [camped] from . . . [Purana Qila] towards [Ballabgarh] to the City; and from the Delhi to the Ajmere Gate[s]. The wounded were at first put in our Dispensary, then in any {129} large house they came across—for any such purpose they turn the occupants . . . out.
The Meerut and Delhi troops are in the Fort and Palace. There is no room for any others there.
[. . .]
The Sepoys have a great jealousy of any one who is suspected of in any way assisting the English.
[. . .]
Only a small part of Delhi is actively disaffected to the English. But it is now full of bad and reckless characters who have flocked to it from without.
[Bakht] Khan is now the leader; he was in the Artillery. Was originally in Delhi. Transferred some time ago to Bareilly, and came back in command of the mutinous troops.
[. . .]
Three days before the [Bakr Eid] Festival, [Bakht] Khan went to the King and told him it would be advisable to prohibit the [Muslims] from killing cows. He produced a [fatwa]. Proclamation was made accordingly. {130} The Sepoys were, besides, engaged in fighting on the [Eid] and for two days before, and were wearied out, so the Festival passed off quietly.
Fig. 5. The 1st Bengal Fusiliers Marching to Delhi, 1857. Original: George F. Atkinson, Campaign in India, 1857–1858 (published 1859). National Army Museum (London), Image No. 19526.
Six butchers were arrested—they were carrying a . . . funeral bier to the burial-ground. It was examined, and butcher’s meat found in it, which it was supposed they were taking to [the British] camp. The Sepoys killed five, and one fled. It was after this that cow-killing was prohibited.
Two [bhistis] were killed for being on the road to [the British] camp with their [mussicks] filled with sugar.
[. . .]
I have no doubt . . . that the original real desire of the King was as generally rumoured in the City, and as he is said to have plainly told the Rebels, that he wished to have nothing to do with them. This was his feeling at first; but it is impossible to say whether ambition and desire of regaining a position of real power for his Family may not have led to a change, and a real siding with the Rebels afterwards.
The King keeps the Shahzadas strictly in order. [Mirza] Abu Bakr went, in connection with some female intrigue, to a house, and plundered the adjoining residence of the [Qazi’s] son, [Abdul Haq]. On this being reported to the King he directed the [Kotwal] to apprehend and forward to him any of his sons who committed acts of violence, and to punish himself any of the [Mughal household] similarly apprehended. He reduced Abu Bakr from his command.
The money brought in by the Regiments and given to the King was expended three weeks ago. The King kept it separate, and devoted it solely to their use and the purchase of ammunition. The King touched none of this for his own use; he borrowed for himself from the City bankers. At first the Regiments used to give a portion of their plundered treasure to the King as [‘nazerana (tribute)’]. The remainder was kept each by the Regiment which brought it.
Since the Bareilly Regiments came no money has been given to the King. The Bareilly men paid themselves six months’ pay, and kept the rest for themselves. Their example has been followed by all subsequent arrivals.
They make up Gunpowder, having at the manufactory enough materials at a time for . . . three or four days at the works. It is probably only this amount that was lately blown up. The main stores of materials are in the Fort.
[. . .]
{131} [Kashi Prasad] says he . . . had frequent opportunities of conversing with the Sepoys and others. He never could get from them any other cause of discontent than the [kartus] (cartridges). Nor could he hear of any correspondence between the Rebels and the King.
Preparing for the Worst at Lucknow47
Adelaide Case, author of this selection, was the wife of the commander of HM 32nd Foot, the British regiment stationed at Lucknow. By May 25, as the rebellion spread, most of the city’s European residents had withdrawn into the foreigners’ enclave around the Residency.
Yesterday morning . . . I was awoke about three o’clock by Mrs. Inglis coming into our room, and telling us that we must immediately get up; as, in consequence of Sir Henry Lawrence having received unfavourable accounts of the state of things at [Kanpur], it was deemed . . . safer for us ladies to go into the city Residency. We were all to start as soon as possible, so I roused up Caroline, and we dressed as hastily as we could, leaving our few things to be packed up by my good ayah,48 who, with the rest of the servants, was to follow in the course of the day. As soon as we were dressed, William came over from the camp, and, as usual, on seeing him and hearing the cheerful sound of his voice, I was inspired with renewed courage. He could only remain with us a few minutes, as he did not like to be away from camp. Mrs. Inglis and the children started about half an hour before we did. We drove into the city in our little carriage; everything appeared quiet. We reached the city Residency in safety . . . and found Mrs. Inglis already located at Mr. Gubbins’s. We drove to his house first, and found Mrs. Gubbins, who kindly offered to do anything for us that she could, but told us that her house was already full, and that Mrs. Inglis’s room was too small to take us both in. She {132} would most kindly have done so, had it been possible. We therefore went over to the Residency . . . where we met Mrs. Ogilvie, whom we had . . . met . . . at dinner at Sir Henry’s. She said that there were no rooms to spare in the Residency upstairs, and on going below, we found it still more crowded. Two ladies and seven children were squeezed into a very small room, having some tea, and every moment fresh arrivals drove up, in search of rooms also. While we were deliberating what we had better do, Mrs. Ogilvie sent word to us to come up again, and . . . offered us one of her own rooms, which was so filled with boxes, books, and papers, that it seemed almost impossible to turn around in it. At the same time she told us . . . not [to] mind the bearer passing through the room at all hours of the day for the iced water used in the house, and for all his candles and lamps; but of course we did not refuse her kind offer, considering ourselves fortunate in obtaining the smallest corner. [. . .]
Friday [May] 29th. Everything still remains quiet. Caroline and I join the Ogilvies’ party at dinner. We see Mrs. Inglis every day, and she and I think of nothing but our happy evening’s drive into cantonments, where we spend the only delightful hour during the twenty-four. She drives her buggy, and takes me with her. People say we are very foolish to persist in going to the camp in the present state of things; but so long as our husbands do not forbid our going out, we shall continue to do so, for I think we would both risk almost any danger for the sake of that one happy hour, which always appears so very short! Oh, how loth we always feel to return to the Residency again! How we linger before we turn our steps toward the city, till Colonel Inglis or William insists, for the sake of safety, that we will not delay.
Monday, June 1st. On Saturday last, the 30th, Mrs. Inglis, as usual, came and asked me if I was ready to drive into camp. Of course, I was. So off we started about half-past five o’clock. The day having been hot, we enjoyed our drive exceedingly, and, as usual, found William and Colonel Inglis sitting on the [shamiana] ready for us.49 We remained with them a short time, and on coming away Colonel Inglis said he would drive Mrs. Inglis part of the way home, and William drove me; but they could not go far with us, of course. When they left us, and we found it [beginning] to get rather late, and towards dusk, we felt uncomfortable, especially as we passed the Iron Bridge, a place always very much crowded. We fancied the people we saw looked fierce and sullen. Mrs. Inglis drove a fast {133} trotting horse, neither of us spoke, but she urged him on. I cannot express how thankful we felt when we drew up at the door of the Residency, and alighted in safety. [. . .]
Just as we were all retiring for the night, guns were heard in the direction of the cantonments. All the gentlemen . . . armed themselves and disappeared, leaving us very anxious. . . . [G]oing out into the verandah, we distinctly saw the firing, and saw one bungalow after another set on fire, and blazing away with tremendous fury. The stillness in the city was . . . remarkable; not a sound was heard. The sight of the burning bungalows was awful, and we could do nothing but watch the flames with beating hearts, and listen tremblingly to the booming . . . cannon.
[. . .]
The usual messenger from camp brought me . . . a letter from dearest William. He told me that the sepoys had mutinied . . . and attempted to get hold of their officers, but failed. They then set fire to the bungalows and plundered them. Lieutenant Grant, 71st Native Infantry, was betrayed and cruelly murdered, receiving many wounds. Cornet Raleigh, a young officer who had only joined his regiment three days before, was cut to pieces by the cavalry, and Brigadier Hanscombe was shot dead as he went up to harangue the native regiment. [. . .] Three of our poor servants were killed, and William’s and Colonel Inglis’s tents were riddled to shreds.
The Fears of the People50
Syed Ahmad Khan, in the following selection, explains why so many people in Hindustan believed the British were plotting to destroy their religion and seize their property.
. . . I do not wish it to be understood that the views of Government were in reality such as have been imputed to them. I only wish to say that they were misconstrued by the people, and that this misconstruction hurried {134} on the rebellion. Had there been a native of Hindustan in the Legislative Council, the people would never have fallen into such errors.
Interference in matters of religion. There is not the smallest doubt that all men whether ignorant or well-informed, whether high or low, felt . . . that the English Government was bent on interfering with their religion, and with their old established customs. They believed that Government intended to force . . . [Christianity] and foreign customs upon Hindu and Mussulman alike. This was the chief among the secondary causes of the rebellion. It was believed by everyone that Government was slowly but surely developing its plans. Every step it was thought was . . . taken with the most extreme caution. [. . .] Men never thought that our Government would openly compel them to change their religion. The idea was that indirect steps would be taken, such as doing away with the study of Arabic and [Sanskrit], and reducing the people to ignorance and poverty. In this way, it was supposed, the people would be deprived of a knowledge of the principles of their own faith. . . .
[. . .]
In the first days of British rule in Hindustan, there used to be less talk . . . on the subject of religion. [. . .] It has been commonly believed that Government appointed Missionaries and maintained them at its own cost. It has been supposed that . . . the officers of Government throughout the country . . . [gave] large sums to these Missionaries . . . covering their expenses. . . . Many covenanted officers, and . . . Military men have been . . . talking to their subordinates about religion; some of them would bid their servants come to their houses, and listen to the . . . Missionaries, and thus it happened that in the course of time no man felt sure that his creed would last. . . .
The Missionaries moreover . . . took to printing and circulating . . . tracts. . . . Men of different faith were spoken of in those tracts in a most offensive and irritating way. In Hindustan these things . . . [are] managed . . . differently. Every man in this country . . . explains his views in his own Mosque, or . . . house. If anyone wishes to listen . . . he can go to the Mosque or house. . . . But the Missionaries’ plan was exactly the opposite. They used to attend places of public resort, markets for instance, and fairs where men of different creeds were gathered together, and used to begin preaching there. It was only from fear of the authorities that no one bid them be off about their business. In some districts the Missionaries were actually attended by Policemen. . . . And then the Missionaries did not confine themselves to explaining the doctrines of their own books.
{135} In violent . . . language they attacked the followers and . . . holy places of other creeds: annoying and insulting beyond expression the feelings of those who listened. . . . In this way . . . the seeds of discontent were sown deep in the hearts of the people.
[. . .]
The laws providing for the resumption of Revenue free lands . . . were most obnoxious. [. . .] I cannot describe the odium and the hatred which this act brought on Government, or the extent to which it beggared the people. Many lands . . . held Revenue free for centuries were suddenly resumed on the flimsiest pretexts. The people said that Government not only did nothing for them . . . but undid what former Governments had done. This measure altogether lost for . . . Government the confidence of its subjects. It may be said that if Revenue free lands were not resumed, some other source of income would have to be sought, or some new Tax imposed. . . . This may be so; but the people do not see it. . . . [W]herever the rebels have issued proclamations . . . they have only mentioned two things: . . . interference in matters of religion, [and] the resumption of revenue free lands. [. . .]
Under former rules, and in old times, the . . . buying and selling [of] rights in landed property, of mortgage and of transfer by gift, undoubtedly prevailed. But there was little of it, and what little there was, was due to the consent and wishes of the parties concerned. To arbitrarily compel the sale of these rights in satisfaction of arrears of revenue, or of debt, was a practice . . . unknown. [Hindustani] landlords are particularly attached to this kind of property. The loss of their estates has been to them a source of the deepest annoyance. A landed estate in Hindustan is . . . like a little kingdom. It has always been the practice to elect one man as the . . . [representative of] all. By him, matters requiring discussion are brought forward, and every shareholder in proportion to his holding has the power of speaking out his mind on the point. The cultivators, and the [chaudhuris] of the villages attend on such an occasion, and say whatever they have to say.51 Any matter of . . . importance is settled by the headmen of some of the larger villages. You have here in fact . . . a miniature Kingdom and Parliament. These landlords were indignant at the loss of their estate, as a king at the loss of his empire. [. . .] Dating from the commencement of English rule to the present time, there is probably not a {136} single village in which there have not been . . . transfers. In the first days of British rule, sales of landed property were so numerous that the . . . country was turned upside down. [. . .]
The assessments imposed by the English Government have been fixed without any regard to . . . contingencies. Land lying fallow pays in the same proportion as other land. [. . .] From being cultivated to the same extent year after year, land becomes weak and unfruitful, and does not yield an equal amount. It ceases to have the same value that was put upon it at the time of the Settlement. In many districts, every Settlement that was made pressed heavily, and landlords and cultivators were alike reduced to straits. In course of time they were unable to provide themselves with proper implements. These accordingly became scarce. Land was not properly cultivated. [. . .] The cultivators were obliged to borrow money in order to pay the revenue. The interest on these loans ran up. Landlords, formerly men of substance, found themselves suddenly ruined. [. . .]
The Unraveling of the Raj52
In this newspaper article, a British official serving in Rohilkhand at the time of the rebellion describes how and why the Company’s administration . . . fell apart so rapidly after the uprising at Meerut.
To the . . . number of [forced estate] sales during the past twelve or fifteen years, and the operation of our revenue system, which has had the results of destroying the gentry . . . and breaking up the village communities, I attribute solely the disorganization of this and the neighbouring districts in these provinces.
By fraud or chicanery . . . the estates of families of rank and influence have been alienated . . . wholly or in part, and have been purchased by {137} new men—chiefly traders or [Indian] Government officials—without character or influence over their tenantry. These men . . . were . . . absentees, fearing or disliking to reside on their purchases, where they were looked upon as . . . unwelcome intruders. The ancient proprietary of these alienated estates were . . . living as tenantry on the lands once theirs; by no means reconciled to their change of position, but maintaining their hereditary hold as strong as ever over the sympathies and affections of the agricultural body, who were ready and willing to join their feudal superiors in any attempt to recover their lost position and regain possession of their estates. [. . .] None of the men who had succeeded [the old landlords] . . . were possessed of sufficient influence or power to . . . aid in maintaining . . . public tranquillity. [. . .] On the other hand, those who really could control the . . . masses of the rural population were interested in bringing about a state of disturbance and general anarchy.
For more than a year previous to the outbreak, I had been . . . representing to superior authority the great abuse of the power of the civil courts, and the reckless manner in which they decreed the sale of rights and interests connected with the soil in satisfaction of petty debts, and the dislocation of society which was in consequence . . . produced. I . . . pointed out that although the old families were being displaced fast, we could not destroy the memory of the past or dissolve the . . . connection between them and their people: and I said distinctly, that in event of any insurrection . . . , we should find this great and influential body, through whom we can alone hope to control . . . the . . . rural classes, ranged against us on the side of the enemy, with . . . hereditary retainers and followers rallying around them. . . . My warnings were unheeded, and I was treated as an alarmist. . . .
The leaders and promoters of this great rebellion, whoever they may have been, knew well the inflammable condition . . . of the rural society in the North-Western Provinces, and . . . therefore sent . . . the [chapattis] . . . to call them to action. [. . .] The [chapattis] entered my district from the adjoining one of [Shahjahanpur]; a village watchman of that place giving to the watchmen of the nearest Budaon village two of the cakes with an injunction to make six fresh ones, retain two for his own, and give the others to the watchmen of the next village, who would follow the same course. . . . I truly believe . . . the rural population of all classes, among whom these cakes spread, were as ignorant as I was myself of their real object; but it was clear they were a secret sign to be on the alert, and the minds of the people were through them kept watchful and excited. As {138} soon as the disturbances broke out at Meerut and Delhi, the . . . [chapattis] explained themselves and the people . . . perceived what was expected of them.
In Budaon the mass of the population rose in a body, and the entire district became a scene of anarchy and confusion. The ancient proprietary body took the opportunity of murdering or expelling the auction purchasers, and resumed possession of their hereditary estates. The danger now is that this vast mass of our subjects, who are numbered by tens of thousands, and who are the real . . . sinews of the country, will never consent to the restoration of a Government . . . which they consider treated them with harshness; whose system tended to depress and dispossess them, and whose first measure after the return of tranquillity . . . must be to put back the auction purchasers and evict them. I feel convinced that no amount of force will restore us to power unless at the same time some measures be taken for undoing the evils of the past, and coming to some compromise by which the old families may be reinstated, and their sympathies and interests enlisted on our behalf, while those of the auction purchasers are also duly cared for. I am fully satisfied that the rural classes would never have joined in rebelling with the sepoys, whom they hated, had not these causes of discontent already existed. They evinced no sympathy whatsoever about the cartridges, or flour said to be made of human bones, and could not then have been acted upon by any cry of their religion being in danger. It is questions involving their rights and interests in the soil and hereditary holdings, invariably termed by them as [jan se aziz], ‘dearer than life,’ which excite them to a dangerous degree.
A Massacre of Sepoy Fugitives53
On May 13, 1857, the sepoys at Mian Mir Cantonment, near Lahore, were disarmed. They remained quietly in their lines until July 30 when a riot broke out in which one British officer was killed and another wounded. With a dust storm arising, the {139} sepoys fled, hoping to make a mass escape from Punjab. The Sikh population, however, aided the British authorities and by the time the sepoy fugitives reached the Ravi River, at the edge of Amritsar District, most of them had been killed or arrested. It fell to Frederic Cooper, the British official on the scene, to decide the fate of these men. The following is Cooper’s own account of what he did.
On reaching the shore . . . as they stepped out of the boats, all [the sepoys] were tightly bound; their decorations and necklaces ignominiously cut off; and under guard of a posse of villagers . . . and some Sikh horse, they were ordered to proceed slowly . . . six miles to the police station at [Ajnala]. [. . .] Some begged that their women and children might be spared, and were informed that the British Government did not . . . war with women and children.54
The last batch having arrived, the long straggling party were safely but slowly escorted . . . to the police station, almost all the road being knee-deep in water. Even this accident, by making the ground so heavy—not to mention the gracious moon, which came out through the clouds and reflected herself in myriad pools and streams, as if to light the prisoners to their fate—aided in preventing a single escape.
It was near midnight before all were safely lodged in the police station. A drizzling rain coming on prevented the commencement of the execution; so a rest until daybreak was announced. Before dawn another batch of sixty-six was brought in, and as the police station was then nearly full, they were ushered into a large round tower. . . .
Previously to his departure with the pursuing party from [Amritsar], the Deputy Commissioner had ordered . . . a large supply of rope, in case the numbers captured were few enough for hanging (trees being scarce), and also a reserve of fifty Sikh Levies for a firing party, in case of the numbers demanding wholesale execution; as also to be of use as a reserve in case of a fight. . . . So eager were the Sikhs that they marched straight on . . . and he met them halfway, twenty-three miles between the river and the police station, on his journey back in charge of the prisoners, the total number of which, when the execution commenced, amounted to 282 of {140} all ranks, besides numbers of camp followers who were left to be taken care of by the villagers.
As fortune would have it, again favouring audacity, a deep dry well was discovered within one hundred yards of the police station, and its presence furnished a convenient solution . . . to the one remaining difficulty which was of sanitary consideration—the disposal of the corpses of the dishonoured soldiers.
The climax of fortunate coincidences . . . arrived when it was remembered that the 1st of August was the festival of [Bakr Eid]. A capital excuse was thus afforded to permit the [Hindustani] Mussulman horsemen to return to celebrate it at [Amritsar]; while the single Christian,55 unembarrassed by their presence, and aided by the faithful Sikhs, might perform a ceremonial sacrifice of a different nature . . . on the same morrow. When that morrow dawned, sentries were placed round the town to prevent the egress of sight-seers. The officials were called; and they were made aware of the character of the spectacle they were about to witness.
Ten by ten the sepoys were called forth. Their names having been taken down . . . they were pinioned, linked together, and marched to execution; a firing party being in readiness. Every phase of deportment was manifested by the doomed men, after the sullen firing of volleys of . . . musketry forced the conviction of inevitable death: astonishment, rage, frantic despair, the most stoic calmness. One detachment, as they passed, yelled to the solitary Anglo-Saxon magistrate, as he sat under the shade of the police station performing his solemn duty, with his native officials around him, that he, the Christian, would meet the same fate; then as they passed the reserve of young Sikh soldiery, who were to relieve the executioners after a certain period, they danced, though pinioned, insulted the Sikh religion, and called on [Gangaji] to aid them; but they only in one instance provoked a reply, which was instantaneously checked. Others again petitioned to be allowed to make one last “salaam” to the Sahib.
About 150 having been thus executed, one of the executioners swooned away (he was the eldest . . .), and a little respite was allowed. Then proceeding, the number had arrived at two hundred and thirty-seven; when the district officer was informed that the remainder refused to come out of the bastion, where they had been . . . imprisoned a few hours before. Expecting a rush and resistance, preparations were made against escape; but little expectation was entertained of the real and awful fate which had {141} fallen on the remainder of the mutineers. . . . The doors were opened, and, behold! they were nearly all dead! Unconsciously, the tragedy of Holwell’s Black Hole had been re-enacted.56 No cries had been heard during the night. . . . Forty-five bodies, dead from fright, exhaustion, fatigue, heat, and partial suffocation, were dragged into light and consigned, in common with all the other bodies, into one common pit, by the hands of the village sweepers.
One sepoy only was too much wounded in the conflict [on the riverbank] to suffer the agony of being taken to the scene of execution. He was accordingly reprieved for Queen’s evidence, and forwarded to Lahore, with some forty-one subsequent captures, from [Amritsar]. There, in full parade before the other mutinously disposed regiments at [Mian Mir], they all suffered death by being blown away from the cannon’s mouth. [. . .]
[Note: In another report to the Chief Commissioner, John Lawrence, Cooper claimed that the men at Ajnala were offered a fair trial. The above account indicates, however, that they were all summarily executed.]
Chaos Behind the Rebel Lines57
Here, Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib describes the rapid breakdown of social norms in Delhi as near anarchy spread under the rebel army’s occupation. Despite his helplessness, Bahadur Shah II continued to be a living symbol of the insurgents’ cause, although—in reality—he could hardly control them. Not all Indian magnates, however, recognized the king of Delhi. The nawab of Rampur, a petty principality in Rohilkhand, remained {142} loyal to the British, but placated the rebels with mere words to keep them satisfied.
The raiders threw off all restraint and the merchants ceased paying taxes. Houses were abandoned and . . . plundered at will. . . . [T]he rabble, sword in hand, rallied to one group after another. And if peaceful, good people came into the bazaar they were made to acknowledge their defeat and humility before the lawless multitude. Throughout the day the rebels looted the city and at night they slept in silken beds.
[. . .]
How can I describe the lack of judgment, the indifference of these times? Those rough labourers who spend their days digging and selling mud, have now found in it pieces of gold. And those others whose assemblies were illuminated by the blaze of flowers are plunged into failure and despair.
With the . . . exception of the wife and daughter of the police chief, the ornaments of all the young women of Delhi have been seized by . . . black-hearted, cowardly robbers. Bereft of . . . embellishments, these women have been . . . debauched of their remaining charm and grace by the newly rich sons of beggars, and they have no choice. . . . Those loving and courteous people who sheltered the coquetries of the young women with their respect and affection, can do nothing now but bow beneath the wickedness of these newly rich, vile-natured ones who are so filled with pride that to see them you would say they were not men but whirlwinds puffed up with conceit. [. . .]
Noblemen and great scholars have fallen from power; and the lowly ones, who have never known wealth or honour, now have prestige and unlimited riches. One whose father wandered dust-stained through the streets now proclaims himself ruler of the wind. One whose mother borrowed from her neighbour fire . . . to light her kitchen declares himself sovereign of fire. [. . .]
The postal system is in utter chaos and service has virtually stopped. It is impossible for postmen to come and go: thus letters can neither be sent nor received. However through the telegraph system which operates by vibrations and wires, messages can be sent out.58
{143} [. . .] In this anarchy brave men are afraid of their own shadows and soldiers rule over dervish59 and king alike. Is this not cause for grief? [. . .]
When these wayward hostile rebels first entered Delhi, they brought treasure with them. This they deposited into the royal treasury and they bowed their heads to the royal threshold. Rebellious armies from various directions converged on Delhi and assembled here. When the emperor could no longer control this army, the army itself took control . . . and the king was rendered helpless.
[. . .]
[I]nside and outside of Delhi, there [are] . . . fifty thousand cavalry and infantry; and the British . . . control no ground except for a ridge at the western edge of the city. Here they have skilfully arranged their batteries and so have converted it into a kind of fortress. On all four sides they have fixed . . . fire-breathing, lightening-striking cannons; and . . . through their perseverance they have made a haven of peace in a land of adversity.
The [rebel] soldiers have seized guns from the armoury, which they have set on the ramparts of the city, and . . . are now actually confronted with the courageous British officers. The heavy smoke from the guns and cannons is like dark clouds hanging in the sky and the noise is like the rain of hailstones. Cannon fire is heard all day long, as if stones were falling from the skies.
These are the hot months of May and June and the heat has become intolerable. The . . . heat increases steadily, until it seems that the sun itself is consumed by its own fire. People who lived comfortably in cool and ventilated houses are now scorching under the flaming sun, and they spend their nights in restlessness on burning stones.
[. . .]
The soldiers who have assembled from all parts of India leave their encampments when the sun is well above the horizon and go forth to fight the lion-hearted British. They return to their camps just before sunset. . . .
[. . .]
Since the name of the Emperor was associated with the revolt, many [magnates] . . . had joined the rebellion. A nobleman of [Farrukhabad], Tafazzul Hussain Khan . . . paid homage [to the emperor] . . . from afar and signed his message as from an old royal servant.
{144} Khan Bahadur Khan, a misguided nobleman who was thirsty for power, collected around him some soldiers from Bareilly and proclaimed himself leader. He sent to the emperor one hundred gold coins, and horses and elephants caparisoned with silver. . . .
May the effects of the evil eye be warded off! [Nawab Yusuf Ali Khan Bahadur] . . . sun-symbolled ruler of Rampur . . . enjoys ties with the British . . . so strong that even after a lapse of one thousand years they would be impossible to sever. This ruler sent only a verbal message to the rebels and so circumvented them.
In Lucknow the army had separated itself from the British, and most of them left the city and went over to their relatives in other towns. However, some officers, together with their soldiers, made camp in [the] Baillie Guard and bravely barred the gates of the town. . . .
Nunna Nawab’s Account60
Here is an excerpt from an Indian account of the events at Kanpur, penned by a “native gentleman” named Nunna Nawab. Like many urbane members of the upper classes, Nunna Nawab was viewed with suspicion by the rebels, who looted his house and held him for ransom, harassing him with repeated death threats. With his wife’s aid, however, he was eventually ransomed and set free. Needless to say, he took a dim view of the insurgents’ activities.
On the morning of . . . 5th June . . . about 3 a.m., the 2nd Light Cavalry and the 1st Regiment of Native Infantry broke out into open rebellion. . . . Just at about six o’clock they liberated the gaol prisoners, plundered the treasury, and . . . set fire to the bungalows . . . and the [Diwani] and [Faujdari] Courts. They then left [Kanpur] . . . [to join] the mutineers at Delhi, and halted at [Kullianpur]. . . . Nana
{145} [Sahib] sent, as the report goes, three or four hackery loads of money to . . . [Bithur]. He then caused sentries of his own to be placed over the magazine, and repaired . . . to the rebel sepoys at [Kullianpur], and induced them . . . to come back . . . and attack the Europeans in the entrenchments. . . . [O]n their way they intended to attack [Azim Ali Khan’s] house, but the old gentleman came out in the most humiliating manner and bought their friendship by payment . . . though here I ought to observe that it was against the will of . . . Nana [Sahib]. I could well see, with a telescope, from the top of my house, Nana, with his two brothers and other relatives, coming forward with all the pomp of a newly-created king; the troopers, in groups of eight or tens, of the 2nd Light Cavalry, setting fire . . . to all the bungalows, and causing them to be plundered.
When they reached . . . Mirza [Hajji’s] bungalow . . . six or eight troopers were dispatched to take me to the Nana, but I not answering their first call . . . 100 troopers were sent, and . . . forcing open the back door, [they] made me their prisoner. I, of course, mounted my horse with a few of my followers, and went to the Nana, surrounded by mutineer troopers, who threatened to take my life if I . . . decline[d] compliance with their wishes.
I was first taken to the Nana’s younger brother, Bala [Sahib], who ordered me to be disarmed, and my followers to be plundered. . . . When I approached the ringleader Nana, I was commanded by his [munshi, Jwalapersad] to dismount my horse, which he took for himself. There were at the time about 500 arms raised at me, but Nana dissuaded them from their purpose, and ordered me to be . . . [arrested], and placed on an elephant . . . in ignominious show. . . . While thus confined, I [heard that the rebels had] . . . plundered [my house] of all its property, amounting to ten [lakhs] of rupees, and had my lady not saved herself by going upstairs . . . by means of a wooden ladder, and drawing the ladder up, they would have . . . ill-treated her. I heard also from creditable authorities that in this spoil the city people, and most of my own servants shared.
[Nunna Nawab went on to describe how his brothers were also detained and plundered, and how the rebels scoured the city and the Mughal Sarai, killing fugitive Europeans, Eurasians, and Indian Christians. Meanwhile, Nana Sahib set up his HQ in a British bungalow while the rebels’ guns shelled the Entrenchment.
{146} Nunna Nawab was at length permitted to return home, but his danger was not over.]
On the 8th July, [the rebels raised the Islamic flag] and [had] proclamations tom-tomed through the bazaars, inviting . . . [Muhammadans] to join in the insurrection; disobedience to be met with death. [Azimullah] is said to have first proposed the raising of the [jhinda]. . . . [T]wo troopers were sent by the Nana to fetch me, saying that they have waited long for me, how it was that I did not join the [jhinda], it appears that I was not a [Muhammadan] but a Christian (an expression of contempt), I had better . . . attend the Nana’s Court, or they have orders to take my head to the Nana; so saying, they took me along with them before the Nana, where [Tikka Singh], [Subedar-Major Bahadur] of the 2nd Light Cavalry, heaped abuses on me, and threatened to have me tied to a tree and there mangled, as I appeared to be averse to the [jhinda]. He caused me to be seated just close to their guns placed near the Saint John’s chapel . . . to have me killed, as shots from the entrenchment were unceasingly fired at it, and I had very narrow escapes, shots passing over my head, sides, ears, &c.
. . . I saw Buldeo Singh, zamindar of [Mauza Sisamau] coming with 200 armed men. By entreaties I prevailed on him to intercede for me with [Tikka Singh]. . . . Partly at his intercession, but more likely at the present of a pair of bracelets, valued about 2,000 rupees, which my lady . . . had made him over through my brother-in-law, I got my release. . . .
[. . .]
On the 11th, [bazaars] ordered to be opened by tom-tom. . . . [Qazi Wasi-ud-Din] ordered to supply rations to the mutineer sepoys, and accordingly . . . got shops established along the canal, and made the supply for about two days, but the shops being plundered, the shopkeepers gradually disappeared. It was on the night of this day, that some ten or fifteen Europeans came to the guns placed near the chapel . . . dismounted them from their wheels, set fire to the wheels, spiked them, and when beset by a greater number of sepoys, returned to their entrenchment; about three of these were killed, one being an officer. Mines were ordered to be dug from the practice ground of the 2nd Light Cavalry, and led to the entrenchment. Three boats full of Europeans . . . were coming down the river . . . when one of them was fired at and [sunk] near the [Awadh] side, but ultimately the passengers were obliged to yield at discretion and brought before the Nana. Reports vary about the number . . . some say {147} they were 128, others 135, 20 or 25 females, and the rest males. These were all kept this day under severe confinement. . . .
The morning of the 12th sealed the fate of the wretched prisoners seized the day before. First, they were ordered to be shot and then mangled with swords, and thrown into the river. Firing continued as usual.61
[. . .]
On the 17th June an attempt to storming the entrenchment was made by order of the Nana. The loss of the mutineers amounted to some 50 men in killed and wounded. [. . .]
A list of the wealthy [mahajans] drawn out; two of them called before the Nana, and [Ishwaripersaud] menaced out of 75,000 rupees. One of the [golandazes] found on the Ganges side a European girl of about five or six years, wounded on one of her arms and a thigh with sword or shots received on the 12th, still living, and taking pity on her, took her to [Tikka Singh] . . . and asked his permission to adopt her . . . he being issueless, but the [subedar] imprisoned him, saying that European children were not . . . to be saved. A [subedar] of irregular cavalry [was ordered to seize] all the [Babus] (only the natives of Bengal) on a charge of serving as spies to the British . . . some forty or fifty got hold of and kept imprisoned in the [kotwali]; the rest escaped and concealed themselves. The next day they were liberated.
[. . .]
On the 20th, rumours for storming the entrenchment heard . . . but the time being pronounced inauspicious by the pundit [Dabbi Din], the assault was not made. The troopers, jealous of the wealth of [Tikka Singh] . . . put him under arrest in his own tent. . . . Firing on the entrenchment continued. . . .
[. . .]
On the 25th, an attempt on the entrenchment made. A [subedar] of the 1st Native Infantry, [Radhay Singh], whose star was pronounced . . . by pundit [Dabbi Din] to be . . . ominous, was first killed, and the mutineers . . . obliged to retreat with the loss of at least 25 men. Plundered property discovered in a man’s house. His hands were ordered to be cut off. Proclamations tom-tomed through the [bazaar] ordering the delivery of all the pillaged property people may have, non-compliance to be met with severe punishment. Contract for the sale of opium given; {148} proclamation prohibiting illicit sale of the drug, and ordering the restoration of the plundered part of the same. . . . Exchange rate of gold mohur raised in the market so much . . . that those worth . . . 14 rupees were disposed at 19 or 20. . . .
Bombardment of the entrenchment continued till 3 P.M., after which proposals of peace offered though Mrs. Greenway, who took along with her [Azimullah Khan] and [Jwalapersaud] . . . into the entrenchment. They returned thence with Colonel Ewart of the 1st . . . Native Infantry [and] . . . five European soldiers with their arms. . . .
[During the brief truce, while boats were assembled at Sati Chaura Ghat for the supposed evacuation of the British garrison, Nunna Nawab—under house arrest—heard from a disgruntled sepoy that the rebels were planning to ambush the Europeans. According to his account, he wanted to try to warn Major General Wheeler, but could not think of a way to send him a message.]
On the 27th, peace concluded . . . the British were proceeding towards the Ganges, having made over the guns, when the mutineers encircled them. The British general is said to have remarked that he was duped. Part of his party had embarked, part were on the bank of the river, some were on their way, when the mutineers attacked. . . . The 1st Regiment Native Infantry fired first, then the assault became general. The troopers rushed with their horses into the river to have their swords soaked in European blood.
The Massacre at Sati Chaura Ghat62
A young Bengal Army officer named Mowbray Thompson—one of the only British survivors of the events at Kanpur—here describes the evacuation of the Entrenchment, and what happened when the surrendered Europeans reached Sati Chaura Ghat, on the banks of the Ganges.
. . . Never, surely, was there such an emaciated, ghostly party . . . as we. There were women who had been beautiful, now stripped of every {149} personal charm, some with, some without gowns; fragments of finery were . . . no longer for decoration, but decorum; officers in tarnished uniforms, rent and wretched. . . . There were few shoes, fewer stockings, and scarcely any shirts; these had all gone for bandages to the wounded. [. . .] Sixteen elephants and . . . seventy or eighty palanquins composed the van of the . . . procession, and more than two hundred sufferers had thus to be conveyed down to the river. The advance-guard . . . of the 32nd Regiment, led by Captain Moore, had to return for a second instalment of those . . . unable to walk the single mile to the [ghat]. [. . .]
The women and children were put on the elephants, and into bullock carts; the able-bodied walked down. . . . Immediately after the exit of the first detachment, the . . . [Entrenchment] was thronged with sepoys. One of them said to one of our men, “Give me that musket,” placing his hand upon the weapon. . . . “You shall have its contents, if you please, but not the gun,” was the reply . . . it was the only semblance of an interruption to our departure.
The sepoys were loud in their . . . astonishment that we had withstood them so long, and said it was utterly unaccountable. . . . We told them that had it not been for the failure of our food, we should have held the place to the last man. I asked one of them, whom I recognized as having belonged to my own regiment, how many they had lost; and he told me, from eight hundred to a thousand. I believe this estimate to have been under . . . the mark. Inquiries were made by the men after their old officers whom they had missed, and they appeared much distressed at hearing of their death. [. . .] I enquired of another sepoy of the 53rd, “Are we to go to Allahabad without molestation?” He affirmed that such was his firm belief. . . . When we reached the place of embarkation, all of us, men and women, as well as the bearers of the wounded and children, had to wade knee-deep through the water, to get into the boats, as not a single plank was provided to serve for a gangway. [. . .]
The boats were about thirty feet long and twelve feet across . . . and overcrowded. . . . They were . . . on the sandbanks, with about two feet of water rippling around them. We . . . ought to have demanded an embarkation in deeper water, but . . . this had been overlooked. If the rainy season had come on while we were . . . [besieged] our mud walls would have been entirely washed away, and grievous epidemic sickness must have added to the long catalogue of our calamities. While the siege lasted, we were daily dreading the . . . rains—now, alas! we mourned their absence, for the Ganges was at its lowest. Captain Moore had told us that no attempt {150} at . . . order . . . would be made in the departure; but when all were aboard, we were to push off as quickly as possible, and make for the other side of the river, where orders would be given for our further direction. As soon as Major Vibart had stepped into his boat, “Off” was the word; but at a signal from the shore, the native boatmen . . . all jumped over and waded to the shore. We fired into them immediately, but the majority of them escaped. . . . Before they quitted us, these men had contrived to secrete burning charcoal in the thatch of most of the boats. Simultaneously with the departure of the boatmen, the . . . troopers opened upon us with their carbines. As well as the confusion caused by the burning of the boats would allow, we returned the fire. . . .
Those of us . . . not disabled by wounds, now jumped out of the boats and endeavoured to push them afloat, but, alas! most of them were utterly immoveable. Now, from an ambush in which they were concealed all along the banks, it seemed that thousands of men fired upon us; besides four nine-pounders, carefully masked and pointed to the boats, every bush was filled with sepoys.
[. . .] Volumes of smoke . . . veiled the full . . . horrors of that morning. All who could move were speedily expelled from the boats by the heat of the flames. Alas! the wounded were burnt to death. . . . Wretched . . . women and children crouched behind the boats, or waded . . . into deeper water . . . up to their chins in the river to lessen the probability of being shot. Meanwhile, Major Vibart’s boat, being . . . lighter . . . had got off and was drifting down the stream, her . . . roof unburnt. [. . .] I struck out, swimming for the retreating boat. There were a dozen of us beating the water for life. . . . [Two of us] swam to the boat, which by this time had stranded on a bank close to the [Awadh] side. . . . We were terribly exhausted when Captain Whiting pulled us in; and had it not been for the sandbank, we must have perished. All of the other swimmers sank through exhaustion, or were shot in the water. . . . [Lieutenant] Harrison had left one of the boats in company with a number of passengers, and by wading they reached a small island, about two hundred yards from the shore. While I was swimming past this islet, I saw three sowars . . . who had also waded from the [Kanpur] bank. One of them cut down one of our women with his [talwar], and then made off for Harrison, who received him with a charge from his revolver, and waited for the second man, whom he despatched in like manner . . . and Harrison, plunging in on the riverside, swam to Vibart’s boat. While I was swimming, a second boat got away from the [ghat], and while drifting, was struck by {151} a . . . shot below the [waterline], and was rapidly filling, when she came alongside, and we took off the survivors of her party. Now the crowded state of our poor ark left little room for working her. Her rudder was shot away; we had no oars, for these had all been thrown overboard. . . . Grape and round shot flew about us from either bank of the river, and shells burst constantly on the sandbanks. . . . Alternately stranding and drifting, we were often within a hundred yards of the guns on the [Awadh] side. . . . Shortly after midday, we got out of range . . . but they chased us the whole day, firing volleys of musketry incessantly.
The Massacre at the Bibigarh63
John W. Scherer was one of the many British officials ousted from his post by the rebellion. After escaping from the rebels, he returned with Major General Havelock’s column, advancing on Kanpur. He was one of the first Britons to return to the city after its abandonment by the rebels.
As Bews and I entered the city, we were met by a man with a small kettle-drum; and, without orders, he put himself just before us, and proclaimed the restoration of the former rule. Whether he had . . . proclaimed the Nana cannot well be known; but he diligently rattled away, sonorously shouting. . . .
Khalk-i-Khuda
Mulk-i-Kompani Bahadur
Hukm-i-Sahiban alishan.64
We passed through some streets till we reached the . . . [Chowk] at the head of which stood the [Kotwali], a two-storied building with arches {152} in front, forming a balcony above. Here we dismounted, ascended to the upper story, and were . . . immediately surrounded by a crowd of people, many of them [Bengalis]. They professed themselves delighted with our return; but were rather afraid of the soldiers, and thought that, if measures of retaliation were taken, the innocent might be confounded with the guilty.
[. . .]
[W]e pursued our way from the [Kotwali] down the [Chowk], and out of the town by another way. In course of time we reached [Muhammad’s] Hotel, which had been . . . the headquarters of the Nana; and on stopping, were received by the landlord. [. . .]
From the hotel, not a hundred yards’ walk led us to the . . . [Bibigarh]. [. . .] It was of one story, with a court in the middle, and a tree grew in the court. Bews and I were certainly among the first who saw it; but Colonel Fraser-Tytler had been there, and one or two others. But there is no question that the aspect of the place, when we entered, was entirely unchanged. [. . .] The whole story was so unspeakably horrible that it would be quite wrong . . . to increase the distressing circumstances which really existed. And I may say once for all that the accounts were exaggerated. The attack had evidently been made from the front entrance, and there is reason to suppose that it commenced by muskets being pushed through the venetians, and discharged. There had been a rush across the court to the opposite side, and a mass of human beings were collected in the arched chamber facing the entrance. And thither, doubtless, they were pursued by the assassins with swords. For the whole of the pavement was thickly caked with blood. Surely this is enough, without saying “the clotted gore lay ankle deep,” which besides being most distressing is absolutely incorrect. Then, as to what was lying about, both of us thought it wonderful that the small litter we saw could be the traces of the numbers who had been shut up there. There is no question in my mind that when the bodies were taken away the place had been tidied a little and painful objects had been removed. There were certainly a few odds and ends of clothing, some locks of hair, some little shoes, straw hats, and so on. Of mutilation, in that house at least, there were no signs, nor at that time was there any writing on the walls. It is well known that there were one or two books, and in them some notes, which have long since been communicated to the public. From this dreadful place we passed down to the narrow well into which many of the bodies of the victims . . . were thrown. I saw many, because the receptacle was far too small for all, and {153} there can be little doubt that bodies were dragged across the open space to the river, which was at no great distance. Indeed, we were told as much at the time. When we got to the coping of the well, and looked over, we saw, at no great depth, a ghastly tangle of naked limbs. I heard a low cry of pain, and saw Bews almost crouching with a sickening anguish. There is no object in saying more. . . .
Hazrat Mahal and Birjis Qadr65
The Qaisar-ut-Tawarikh, from which this excerpt is taken, is an Urdu chronicle of the mutiny at Lucknow related by Kamal-ud-Din Haidar, a courtier who had remained in the city after Wajid Ali’s exile to Calcutta. Here, rebel leaders struggle to form a functioning government as they lay siege to the Residency.
After the Battle of [Chinhat] the sepoys entered the city and general looting began. The [Maulvi Ahmadullah Shah] entered . . . with the rebels and endeavoured to establish his . . . [authority], but did not succeed in making any arrangements.
On the 2nd or 3rd day a Court assembled in the [Mirza Wali Kothi] . . . to see if something could not be done. The officers of the army assembled this Court, and at once sent for Jeylal Singh in whose hands were placed the charge of the city. He replied he could do nothing without [Mirza Ali Reza] and [Haider Hussain] . . . who were concealed. The Court gave him permission to search them out and attached a party of sepoys to him for the purpose. . . . They were brought forcibly and the former . . . made Kotwal and the latter “Rounds” in charge of all the patrols. [Qasim] Khan [risaldar] 12th Native Cavalry was placed over both. . . . [Qasim] did most of the work because the others were unwilling.
About this time or immediately afterwards I heard that the Fauj Walas66 wished to place [Suleyman Qadr] on the [masnad], but that he {154} refused; I then heard that . . . Jeylal Singh went to the house of [Qadr Nausherwan] (who was foolish) on the part of the army, to induce his grandmother to allow him to be set up.67
Having heard this I went to the door of the Khas [Mahal]68 to see what was going on . . . [and] close to the doorway . . . I saw Mummoo Khan and Jeylal Singh . . . conversing, I heard Mummoo Khan say [Birjis Qadar] was the child of Wajid [Ali Shah].69 If you are hunting for someone to put on the [masnad] you had much better place . . . Birjis [Qadr] on. The Rajah answered I will go to the officers and return tomorrow with their answers. I told Jeylal Singh that it would be well to stop the sepoys from plundering and that the King’s premises should escape. He said nothing could be done then. He would see about it the next day. The next day he went to the door of [Hazrat Mahal] and desired to be taken to the place where all the King’s [mahals] could be assembled. Mummoo Khan went to the Khas [Mahal] and the [mahals] all assembled; [Hazrat Mahal] sent for [Khurd Mahal] and [Sultan Mahal]. I accompanied the two latter. The Rajah stated that all the officers of the army had sent their Salaams and stated that they had come to help . . . , that the English had taken the country from the King and imprisoned the King and created all sorts of difficulties and that they now wished to place . . . Birjis [Qadr] on the throne, that they should be satisfied with this. . . .
The [mahals] replied, that they had no choice whatever; their superior being in Calcutta, they were concerned that [the court’s participation in the revolt would cause further trouble to] befall the King, that it was necessary to adopt . . . measures that would be beneficial to the King. The [mahals] were all chattering when Mummoo Khan stopped them and said everyone was satisfied. [Jeylal Singh] rising said he would go and report their opinions to the “Officers.” The next day he brought a memo from the officers to be signed to the effect that all the [mahals] were [raazi, i.e., agreed] that [Birjis Qadr] should be placed on the [masnad]. Some of them took their seals with them, others went without their seals to the [Khas Mahal]. [Khurd Mahal] and [Sultan Mahal] were sent for and on their reaching [Hazrat Mahal] said, “This boy—[Birjis Qadr] is your son, it is necessary to sign this paper”; first of all [Khurd Mahal] and [Sultan {155} Mahal] began excuses when [Hazrat Mahal] said it was necessary for them to sign. [They replied] that as long as the King was alive they would not sign. Mummoo Khan and [Hazrat Mahal] affronted got up and left. Then all the [mahals] refused. Then Mummoo Khan and Jeylal Singh agreed that [Hazrat Mahal] should write and invite the officers to come to her and hear what she had to say. . . .
[The officers stalled for a day, probably being busy with siege operations. Meanwhile, Mummoo Khan and Hazrat Mahal seized the royal treasury against the will of the treasury officials, obtaining gold and silver worth ₹3–4 lakhs.]
The next morning I heard that . . . officers of the army were approaching the Khas [Mahal] to see [Hazrat Mahal]. About the afternoon Jeylal Singh came, after him Khan [Ali] Khan then the Officers all came quietly; these two said that whatever was to take place must be determined today. They hunted for the Cushion handed down from [Sada’at Ali] Khan’s time upon which the Kings used to be placed. . . . [Mir Qasim Ali] offered congratulations around and said it was necessary to settle at once.
[Hazrat Mahal] then ordered Jowahir Kuneech70 to produce the [gaddi]; she went and returned with it, and it was placed in the . . . [throne room] and the ornaments, Mundeel and Crown were arranged so that if they made him [nawab] the Mundeel would be ready, but that if King, the Crown should be at hand. It rained heavily. About 30,000 [soldiers] came; but it could not be recognized who were sepoys or who officers. Others followed.71
Thousands were assembled, the officers sitting in the [throne room]. I was present, also [many others] . . . Mummoo Khan [and Birjis Qadr] . . . came from the Mahal and occupied a chair. All the conversation that took place was between [Mir Qasim Ali] and Mummoo Khan who spoke to [Hazrat Mahal]. She then addressed Jeylal Singh who was the spokesman with the officers. I do not know what was said. The officers got up and consulted aside; from amongst them . . . [several sowars of the 15th Irregular Cavalry and others] said there were three or four conditions which it was necessary for [Hazrat Mahal] to agree to before they set up [Birjis Qadr].
{156} [The sepoys’ conditions were that (1) orders from Delhi must be obeyed and would be final; (2) the army would select the wazir; (3) that no army officers would be appointed without the army’s consent; (4) that all sepoys were to receive double pay from the date of their leaving the Company’s service; and (5) that the court was not to interfere in how the rebels dealt with those who were still on friendly terms with the British.]
[. . .] The conditions were handed over to [Hazrat Mahal] and the Seal of [Birjis Qadr] sent for. She sent it by the hands of [Hassan Reza Hakim]. But in the confusion he dropped it and in the crowd it was lost. The officers said it did not matter; it might be sealed afterwards if Jeylal Singh became security for the fulfillment of the conditions, which he did. The officers said [Birjis Qadr] should be dressed in the Mundeel and that hereafter whatever orders came from Delhi should be final. Hearing this [Shahabuddin Khan, one of the mutineers] placed the Mundeel on [Brijis Qadr]. The officers offered their swords and guns as [nazars]. After this the [sepoys] made a meeting to see the ruler. [Brijis Qadr] got up in the confusion from the Mussnud and getting into a [howdah] returned to the Mahal where he entered. The [sepoys] endeavoured to push after him. [Qasim] Khan (who was in charge of the city) placed sentries there; and he collected his sowars to stop the sepoys. [. . .] The Begum72 told . . . [Maharaja Bal Krishen] that [Brijis Qadr] was set up, but that the arrangements had to be made. The Maharaja said he was being looted himself. What could he do? [. . .]
[In the immediate aftermath of Birjis Qadr’s being seated upon the masnad, Mummoo Khan scrambled to protect his authority while the officers of the rebel army wasted no time putting their partisans into positions of power, both with and without Hazrat Mahal’s consent, bypassing Mummoo Khan. At last, on July 5, a day of heavy rain, Jeylal Singh and the rebel officers had an audience with Birjis Qadr.]
The officers began to talk together. Some said that the boy was very young, others that he was handsome and delicate and therefore could not be expected to do (hard) work; others accosted him: “You should never become slothful and negligent. We make you King.”
{157} DOCUMENT 27
Hazrat Mahal’s Appeal to Awadh73
The following proclamation, distributed on July 6, 1857, shortly after the Siege of Lucknow began, was attributed to Birjis Qadr and bore his royal seal, but it was undoubtedly composed and published by his mother, Begum Hazrat Mahal, and the circle of rebel courtiers who were helping her rule Awadh as regent. This document was translated and recorded in the Foreign Secret Consultations on June 25, 1858, about three months after the British recaptured Lucknow.
All . . . [Hindus] and [Muhammadans] are aware that four things are dear . . . 1st Religion, 2nd Honor, 3rd Life, 4th Property. All these four things are safe under a native Government. No one under that Government interferes with religion. Everyone is allowed to continue steadfast in his religion . . . and to possess his honor according to his worth and capacity, be he . . . of good descent, of any caste or denomination, [Syed], Sheikh, [Mughal], or Pathan, among the [Muhammadans], or Brahmin, [Kshatriya], Bais, or Kait among the [Hindus]. All these retain . . . respectability according to their . . . ranks, and all persons of lower order such as Sweeper, [Chamar], [Dhanuk], or [Pasi] can claim equality with them. The life of any person of either class is not taken under that Government, nor [is] his property confiscated except for . . . grave offences. The English are enemies of the four things above named. They wish to deprive . . . [Hindus] and [Muhammadans] of their religion, and . . . [make them] Christians. . . . Under their Government, thousands . . . have embraced Christianity. . . . The honor and respectability of . . . the higher orders are considered by them equal to the honor and respectability of the lower orders, nay, comparatively with the latter, they treat the former with contempt and disrespect; and at the instance of a [Chamar] force the attendance of a Nawab or a [Raja], and subject him to indignity withersoever they go. They hang . . . respectable people, destroy their females and children, and their troops commit acts of violence upon their females, and thus take away their honor, dig down their houses, {158} and plunder all the property and leave them nothing. They do not kill [Banias] and Mahajans, but take away all their property and violate their women. Withersoever they go, they disarm the people, and . . . hang, or shoot, or blow up anyone they like, and deprive anyone they choose of his faith and honor. At some places they resort to the subterfuge of remitting revenue or reducing the [jamma] to the [Malguzars], with the intent that, after they have established themselves . . . they might do with them as they please, force them to become Christians, or hang them or dishonour them. Some foolish [zamindars] allow themselves to be . . . imposed upon, but the shrewd avoid the snare. Therefore the [Hindus] and [Muhammadans] are hereby warned, that whosoever . . . wishes to protect his faith, honor, life, and property may come . . . fight against the English in conjunction with the forces of this [Sarkar]. . . . This [Sarkar] will be kind . . . and contribute to their relief. And be it known to the Pasis that . . . watching every town and village is their hereditary profession, but the English appoint [barkandazes] . . . and thus deprive the Pasis of their livelihood. They should also, in concert with the troops of this [Sarkar] and the [zamindars] plunder the English, and their dependents, commit theft and gang robberies in their camps, and disturb their rest.
The Siege at Lucknow74
Julia Inglis was the wife of Brigadier General John Inglis, commanding HM 32nd Foot at Lucknow. He took command of the besieged Residency garrison following Sir Henry Lawrence’s death, and thus Julia Inglis’s account of the siege is well informed. Being an army wife, she clearly understood the military aspects of the battle raging all around her.
[July] 21st—Major Banks was killed today on . . . top of Mr. Gubbins’s house; he was exposing himself too much . . . forgetting how much more valuable his head was than his hands. . . . John [Inglis] now . . . took upon {159} himself the chief command. . . . Mrs. Dorin was killed today at the Gubbinses’ house; she was helping to carry some things upstairs when a very small bullet struck her in the forehead and went through her head, causing instantaneous death. She had fled from [Sitapur] after seeing her husband killed, and . . . lived for some days in the jungle, protected by the villagers, and afterwards managed to get into the Residency. Dr. Brydon . . . was also badly wounded in the back whilst sitting at dinner in the same house.75
22nd—A sally was made by us today, and one of the enemy’s houses burnt. John accompanied the party. A poor 32nd man was accidentally killed by a shot from one of our own people, who could not distinguish him in the darkness. . . . On the 32nd, commanded by Major Lowe, devolved the principal share of the defence, and the regiment suffered severely. Up to this date they had had 150 casualties.
23rd—A quiet day, comparatively speaking. When the enemy fired little, we always imagined they were mining, and this was indeed usually the case. Miss Dickson, who had been feeling unwell for some days, was pronounced to have smallpox. . . . I was very anxious lest Mrs. Case should catch it, knowing how weak she was. Mrs. Thomas had lately died of the disease, which was very prevalent, as also cholera; but neither, providentially, ever assumed the form of an epidemic. This evening I was standing outside the door with baby in my arms, talking to the ayah, when I felt something whiz past my ears. I rushed inside, and when my alarm had subsided, ventured out again to discover what it was. I found a large piece of shell embedded about ten inches deep in the earth. [. . .]
24th—Heavy rain last night. John was roused by a false report that 400 men were inside the entrenchments: he got little rest, and I daily feared he would break down; but his cheerful, hopeful spirits never deserted him. I paid Mrs. Cowper a visit in the evening: she was very sad and desponding, and I did my best to cheer her. She was confined to her bed—most trying at such a time, when active employment was the only means to keep one’s mind at rest and . . . prevent one’s brooding over our position. I found the children my greatest comfort, as with them to amuse and look after I never had an idle moment. [. . .]
{160} July 27th—[. . .] I paid Mrs. Cowper a long visit in the evening. [. . .] From her I heard that the enemy were mining under the room where most of the ladies lived. Mrs. Bird had first discovered it, and called her husband to listen to the sound. [. . .] [The boys from the Martinière College], under the care of their principal, Mr. Schilling, did good service during the siege, in taking messages, fanning the sick, and keeping the flies off them. These flies were indeed a torment to us all. They covered our tables, filled our dishes and cups, and prevented the children getting rest during the day. Every kind of insect, fleas, etc., abounded, and rats and mice ran about the room in broad daylight, the former of an immense size. This and the difficulty of keeping our things clean were our greatest bodily discomforts. . . .
28th—We destroyed one of the enemy’s mines this evening. John said it was beautifully made, and had a wax candle burning in it; they had evidently trained sappers and miners, which gave them a great advantage over us. A Cornish man in the 32nd, Day by name, was a great standby; he was solely employed in listening for mining, and became most acute in detecting the sound. I met Mrs. Martin today, when sitting with Mrs. Cowper. She asked me the question which, I fancy, had been much discussed, whether in the event of the enemy getting in, I thought self-destruction would be justifiable. I said what I feel now, that it could not be right, and that I thought, if the time of trial came, our God who sent it would put it in our hearts how to act. They told me several of the ladies had poison at hand.
A Rebel’s Description of the Siege76
The following passage is a translation of Sayyid Kamal-ud-Din Haidar’s description of the siege at Lucknow, originally written in Urdu. Here he describes the rebels’ first, spirited assaults on the Residency and sheds light on the negative impact that {161} repeated failure had on the rebels, and on the strained relationship between the insurgent leaders and their sepoy army.
. . . [F]or six days and nights a shower of bullets and shells rained from both . . . sides. On Friday in the afternoon at the time of the Asr prayer, Ahmad-ullah Shah made an assault and reached up to the very gate, under the walls of the [Baillie] Guard. Those besieged said that they were then sure of their death. All the English and Indian soldiers were so fatigued on account of uninterrupted fighting for several days that there was practically no life in their hands and feet. Particularly the English ladies were most terror-stricken. They hid themselves in Low’s [tykhana] and were awaiting their sure death.
Shahji standing under the protection of the gate called out to his fighters in the cause of religion and asked them to rally, as that was the last attempt that would put all the heathens to death. But none dared to move forward. Suddenly, a bomb shell burst down and Shahji retreated. Now the besieged were encouraged and felt sure of their victory. Those on the morchas gathered immense courage and were rejuvenated.77 After some days the rebel troops complained that they might run short of ammunition and said that if they spent all of their stores they would have none at the hour of need. They therefore made fresh demands. Thus they coined lame excuses for keeping back. Everyday the [sepoys] went out in groups at an appointed hour, crying “[Bhum Mahadeo!] . . . ” [text unclear] sat scattered at the shops of the Khas Bazaar, sang Bhajans in accompaniment with the [daira and dhapli].78 They reviled everybody. They called . . . Birjis [Qadr] from the palace, embraced him, and said, “You are Kanhaiya.79 Don’t become slothful like your father. Be cautious of your turbaned men, otherwise you will get spoilt.”
{162} DOCUMENT 30
A Spymaster’s View of the Rebellion80
In this selection from William Muir’s summaries of his Indian spies’ reports, we catch another glimpse of the rebels’ struggle to organize themselves and procure supplies. His notes highlight the fact that, due to their lack of money and materiel, the insurgents’ numbers were actually working against them; moreover, bandits and rogue soldiers were setting up their own fiefdoms, opposed to both sides, and many landowners refused to aid the rebels.
[July] 15th . . . A letter was received by [Gunsham Chowbey] from a man called [Pandit Durga Prasad] at [Hathras], who had been to Muttra and spoken with the Mutineer General and Brigade-Major of the Neemuch force. He says great numbers of Mussulmans were on the way to Muttra. The [Tahsildars] of Agra and [Bhathara] were seen leaving with ten horses.81
The Mutineer army amounts to several thousand men. There is the Kota Contingent, the 72nd Native Infantry, the Gwalior 7th, and the 4th and 6th Gwalior Cavalry; also 4th troop of the [Muheshpur] 1st Risala. Two batteries, or 12 guns.
[Sardari Singh], a Brahmin of the 1st Risala, a native of the Doab, is the Mutineer General; and Heera Singh of the [Muheshpur] Corps, the Mutineer Brigade-Major. They said that when they got 36-pounders from Delhi they would attack Agra. They had sent a [harkara] to Delhi.
The report from Delhi was that 8,000 Europeans were coming from Surat with the [Jangi-Lat Sahib] against Delhi.82
{163} 16th . . . [Koel] is in disorder. The fanatical lower Mussulmans, [Julahas], etc., raising the cry of, “[Din-Din].” No traveller safe.83
At [Hathras] [Jai Kishen Das] has no magisterial powers; only those of officer of Police. He cannot therefore punish. If invested with powers of special appointment, he could keep the town better in order.
25 Sowars are reported to have been sent from the Mutineers at Muttra to [Bharatpur] for guns, but no arrangement made yet.
There is a bazaar report that a [Maulvi] and Rao of the [Bharatpur] family have conspired against the Raja of [Bharatpur] and the Dhao; but have been seized and imprisoned.
[Dilsukh Jemadar] has returned from Muttra. He says that the General has had his two hands shot off. Confirms report of attempt to get guns from [Bharatpur].
[. . .]
[Ishwari Prasad.] Letter from [Fatehpur Sikri]: supplies got together for troops; some collections made for Sepoys.
[. . .]
16th July—[From Major McLeod]. Through [Kunhai Lal] servant of [Ganga Prasad], Muttra.
The [Qazi] and Deputy-Collector and [Kotwal] have proclaimed the King of Delhi. When the Mutineers came next morning they were angry at the proclamation having been made without their order; whereupon the three officers ran away.
The Mutineers are collecting money, and have looted several persons. The seth has gone to [Bharatpur or perhaps Vrindavan].84
The Mutineers are not getting ammunition made up; and none is being made for them at [Adeeng].85 They have declined to go to Delhi. They are collecting boats on the river, with the intention of going away and dispersing. The [Tahsildar of Mahaban] has paid to them all the revenue he had collected; but the other [Tahsildars] ran away.
The [Jaipur] force has left Kosi; and is believed to have moved toward Delhi.
[. . .]
17th July . . . Tejraj, a man sent towards [Dholpur] returned from 5 [kos] this side of it, and says there is no force coming this way from {164} Gwalior.86 A [Dholpur Gujjar] with 2,000 men and 2 guns was plundering the country and coming towards Agra, but was turned back by the [zamindars]. . . .
[Mirzapur]—A letter from [Fateh Chand] to [Durga Prasad Guburdhun Das], dated 4th July, says that . . . Mr. Moore was killed in a fight with the [Zamindars] of [Gopiganj]. At [Mirzapur] there is great alarm. The European troops are on their way up, and order will soon be restored.
[. . .]
[Lachman Singh] gives the bazaar report that the troops at Gwalior have proved too strong for [Sindhia] and have plundered Gwalior, and declared their intention of joining Neemuch force.
18th July . . . [Rudhay] . . . at [Muttra] on . . . 16th: reached . . . Mutineer’s Camp about 4 P.M.—left about 8 P.M. He declares that the general . . . intention of the Mutineer army was to proceed to Delhi, as they could do nothing without ammunition. He states that they must all have gone by this time. They had realized one and a quarter [lakhs], and spoke of 1 3/4 being yet due to them. . . .
(The spy is . . . rough and plain . . . but seems sufficiently intelligent; and, if not deceived by the Mutineers, may be relied on, I think.)
An [arzi] from the [Tahsildar] of [Hathras], two days old, states that the [widow of Narain Singh] is preparing to seize [Qasba Mendhu], a village about 4 [kos] from [Hathras], the purchased property of [Mahmud Ali Khan] of Chutara, [Bulandshahr].
[Sasni] has not been plundered (as before reported), but the police have gone to [Koel], and [Mohan] Singh (a freebooter of the vicinity) is ruling it.
{165} DOCUMENT 31
The Rebel Defense of Delhi87
In this passage, Main-ud-Din—who had become a rebel police official—describes the house-to-house fighting that commenced as soon as the British forces broke into the city of Delhi.
. . . The mutineers, abandoning the guns on the bastions, fled in every direction. The English penetrated as far as the Kotwali and [Jamma] Masjid in their assault. At the Kotwali, a gun had been planted and was fired by some sowars and bad characters. This fire fell in the midst of the English . . . column, killing and wounding upwards of fifty of them. The mutineers defended the [Jamma] Masjid and checked the English advance. The English fell back on the [Kashmir] Gate. A further stand was made by the mutineers at Pulbin Bund and at the Calcutta Gate. The fighting continued for five days through the city. The Princes fled to the Tomb of [Humayun] at four o’clock in the morning—a bad omen. The mutineers then began to leave the city in every direction, as did . . . the inhabitants. The fugitives were attacked by the [Gujjars] . . . who plundered them of their arms and money. [. . .]
General [Muhammad Bhakt Khan], collecting a force, went to the King, and begged him to fly to Lucknow with him. He also offered to collect the scattered rebel forces outside the city and again fight the English. But the old King refused his help. [Bhakt Khan] then marched for Lucknow with all the forces he could collect.
Mirza Abbas Khan, the vakil of the King of [Awadh], who had arrived four days before the assault with the [nazar], now fled with his escort in the direction of Rajputana. The King fled to the old fort [Qila] Kahoma. [. . .] When the English learned where the King had fled, they sent orders to Mirza [Ilahi Bakhsh] and Hakim Ahsanullah to prevent the King from leaving the city, and directed them to bring him to the English camp. A force was sent with them of 100 cavalry, with the complement of officers, and proceeded to the old fort.88
{166} Mirza [Ilahi Bakhsh] and Hakim Ahsanullah went to the King, who was in great terror, but was reassured by those about him that a dish of [pilaf] alone was in store for him. Four of the Princes were in company with the King, viz, Mirza [Mughal], Mirza Abu Bakr, Mirza Kizr Sultan, Mirza Meddu. The party, on leaving the fort, was surrounded by the English escort. The King was placed in a palki, the Princes in a bullock-cart, and taken towards the Palace. When the Princes reached the place in front of the [Diwan-i-Aam], where the English women and children had been butchered, they were shot.89 The city was plundered from the Lahore to the [Kashmir] Gate. Mirza Buktour Shah, who was subsequently caught, was also executed. The King was placed in custody. Shah Samund Khan, the commander of the King’s Bodyguard, was caught leaving the city by the [Kashmir] Gate. He was identified as General of the Rajah of Jujjur’s forces, and was summarily shot. In the city no one’s life was safe. All able-bodied men who were seen were taken for rebels and shot.
[Muhammad] Ali, son of Nawab [Jang] Khan, nephew of the Rajah of Dadra, had closed his doors for safety. Some Gurkhas and Europeans who were plundering the city tried to force the doors. Baffled in the attempt, they mounted the wall. A wet-nurse seeing them was so terrified that she threw herself and the child she was carrying into a well; the other ladies of the house, panic-struck, followed her example, and threw themselves into the same well and perished.
[Muhammad] Ali from the centre of the house fired his gun and killed three Europeans. The house was immediately attacked by a large force and inmates killed, [Muhammad] Ali among the number, fighting to the last. Some sixty men found with weapons were killed, including [Sheikh Imam Bakhsh] and his son, masters of the [Muhammadan] College, who were mistaken for mutineers. Among those slain was Falla-ulla Khan, a well-known . . . physician, and others who were innocent. . . . In Bhojla Pahari, Meah Amin [Sahib], a well-known scribe, foolishly interposed to prevent soldiers from entering his house. He killed the first English soldier who entered, but was . . . bayoneted; still, he died taking his murderer with him.
[Maulvi] Farid-ud-Din was on his way from his morning prayers when he was met by the advancing column of English and fell in the {167} rush with which . . . [they] burst like a pent-up river through the city. Hakim [Ahmad Hussein] Khan and Hakim Razi-ud-Din Khan fell in the same way. Mirza [Yusuf] Khan . . . long . . . out of his mind, attracted by the noise of the firing, wandered . . . into the street to see what was going on; he was killed. Many other well-known men . . . were killed, being mistaken for rebels. In this way God showed His anger: the green as well as the dry trees were consumed; the guiltless shared the same fate as the guilty. [. . .] The gallows slew those who had escaped the sword.
The Rani and a Rebel Council of War90
This selection is a captured rebel’s account of how the insurgent leaders met, after the fall of Jhansi, to determine what strategy they should pursue. The document offers insight into the thinking and interests of the rebel leaders, and affirms the Rani of Jhansi’s central role in their counsels. The “Rao” referred to is Madho Rao, Nana Sahib’s nephew, also known as Rao Sahib, charged with imposing Nana Sahib’s authority in Gwalior as peshwa. Instead, after the council described below, when the rebels reached Gwalior, Madho Rao seems to have declared himself peshwa.
Upon the 22nd [May, 1858], the rebels attacked Sir [Hugh] Rose at Gulowlie at several points. The Gwalior Contingent, fighting with spirit, had nearly captured a Battery, when the Camel Corps threw down some hundred Riflemen before them; and then, every attack . . . 91 was fully repulsed. In the afternoon . . . the Nawab of Banda fled towards Shereghur. . . . Soon after, the [rani] left her shattered dwelling in the bombarded town to join the Rao. It was his plan to renew the attack after a {168} day’s rest. . . . But, at midnight, he learnt that the Gwalior Contingent had lost heart. . . .
The Rao and the [rani] fled in wild haste, with 4 or 5 elephants, 15 camels, cooking pots, but no tent, to Choorkee 16 miles off in [Jalaun], where [Tatya Tope’s] family lay, it being held by a relative of the [rani’s] adopted child. The [rani], an ardent, daring, licentious woman under thirty, gave spirit and hope to all. She rode about everywhere in military attire, with sword and pistols, followed by 40 sowars from Kotah, and by a Brahminee concubine of her late husband. They pushed on the same day to Sravun, where the 5th Irregulars and 400 or 500 infantry rallied round the Rao, and parties of all arms, thereafter, gathered to him daily.
On the 26th at [Gopalpur] on the Gwalior road, the Rao was joined by . . . an Officer of the Nana’s, with 200 foot, 150 horse, and 3 guns from Shereghur. There also the Nawab of Banda with his family, but no troops, rejoined him. And lastly, in the evening, arrived [Tatya Tope], alone, from . . . Gwalior. . . .92
On the 27th, the rebels marched to Mahonah. They there held a council to determine their future course. The chief persons present were the Rao, with [Muhammad Ishaq], late Thanadar of [Bithur], manager of his civil, and [Tatya Tope] manager of his military affairs; Moroo Punt of Gwalior, the Rao’s secretary, an able protégé of the [Diwan] of Gwalior discharged for fraud and vice, . . . now my prisoner and informer; Ram Rao Govind, a superintendent of [Sindhia’s] roads, also discharged by the [Diwan] for fraud; and [Lakshman] Punt Nana, once [Sindhia’s vakil] . . . now a defaulting Collector of Customs. The [rani] was there . . . besides a sepoy from each company. . . .
The Rao, says Moroo Punt, asked of the Council “Whither shall we go?” The [rani] demanded that they should move straight to the Kurara in Jhansi. [Tatya Tope] said that even [Bundelkhand] would be better. The Rao said, “There we should find the [Bundelas] hostile and no supplies. Our only course is to make for the Deccan where all will join us. But we must go first to Gwalior where the Army is gained, and take it with us by the [Sipri] road.93 When that Army shall come over, the Maharaja and {169} the Baiza [Bai] . . . and all the Princes of Hindustan will rise.”94 Many of the sepoys, however, unconvinced that [Sindhia’s] troops were fully gained, desired strongly to retire by Shereghur to [Awadh]. And so, at 9 p.m. nothing being settled, all rose, excepting the Rao, [Tatya Tope], [Muhammad Ishaq], and a few others, when an order was issued to march next morning . . . to cross [Sindhia’s] frontier. . . .
Hazrat Mahal’s Rejoinder95
Very shortly after Queen Victoria’s Proclamation of November 1, 1858 was promulgated, a copy of the document reached Hazrat Mahal, encamped with her army on the Ghaghara River. Here is her point-for-point rebuttal of Queen Victoria’s statements and arguments, and a warning to the people of India not to trust the “pardon” extended by the British authorities.
At this time certain weak-minded, foolish people have spread a report that the English have forgiven the faults and crimes of the people of [Hindustan]; this appears very astonishing, for it is the unvarying custom of the English never to forgive a fault, be it great or small; so much so that if a small offence be committed through ignorance or negligence they never forgive it.
[Queen Victoria’s] . . . Proclamation of the 1st November 1858, which has come before us, is perfectly clear, and as some foolish people, not understanding the real object of the Proclamation, have been carried away, therefore we, the ever-abiding government, parents of the people of [Awadh], with great consideration, put forth the present Proclamation, in order that the real object of the chief points may be exposed, and our subjects be placed on their guard.
{170} It is written in the [queen’s] Proclamation that . . . [Hindustan] . . . held in trust by the Company, has been resumed by the Queen, and that for the future, the Queen’s laws shall be obeyed. This is not to be trusted by our religious subjects, for the laws of the Company, the settlement of the Company, the English servants of the Company, the Governor-General and the judicial administration of the Company, are all unchanged. What, then, is there now which can benefit the people, or on which they can rely?
In the Proclamation it is written, that all contracts and agreements entered into by the Company will be accepted by the Queen. Let the people carefully observe this artifice. The Company has seized the whole of [Hindustan], and, if this arrangement be accepted, what is . . . new in it? The Company professed to treat the Chief of [Bharatpur] as a son, and . . . took his territory; the Chief of Lahore was carried off to London, and it has not fallen to his lot to return; the Nawab [Shamsuddin Khan], on one side, they hanged, and, on the other side . . . salaamed . . . ; the [peshwa] they expelled from Poona . . . and imprisoned for life in [Bithur]; their breach of faith with Sultan [Tipu] is well known; the [Raja of Banaras] they imprisoned in Agra. Under pretence of administering . . . Gwalior, they introduced English customs; they have left no names or traces of the Chiefs of [Bihar], Orissa, and Bengal; they gave the Rao of Furrakhabad a small monthly allowance, and took his territory. [Shahjahanpur], Bareilly, [Azamgarh], [Jaunpur], [Gorakhpur], Etawah, Allahabad, Futtehpur, &c., our ancient possessions they took from us on pretence of distributing pay; and in the 7th article of the treaty, they wrote, on oath, that they would take no more from us.96 If, then, the arrangements made by the Company are . . . accepted, what is the difference between the former and the present state of things? These are old affairs; but recently, in defiance of treaties and oaths, and, notwithstanding, that they owed us millions of rupees . . . on the pretence of the misgovernment and discontent of our people, they took our country and property, worth millions of rupees. If our people were discontented with our royal predecessor, Wajid Ali Shah, how comes it they are content with us? And no ruler ever experienced such loyalty, and devotion of life and goods as we have done. What, then, is wanting that they do not restore our country? Further, it is written in the Proclamation, that they {171} want no increase of territory, but yet they cannot refrain from annexation. If the Queen has assumed the government, why does Her Majesty not restore our country to us when our people wish it? It is well known that no king or queen ever punished a whole army and people for rebellion; all were forgiven; and the wise cannot approve of punishing the whole army and people of [Hindustan]; for so long as the word “punishment” remains the disturbance will not be suppressed. There is a well-known proverb—“A dying man is desperate” (murta kya na karta). It is impossible that a thousand should attack a million, and the thousand escape.
In the Proclamation it is written, that the Christian religion is true, but that no other creed will suffer oppression, and that the laws will be observed towards all. What has the administration of justice to do with the truth or falsehood of a religion? That religion is true which acknowledges one God, and knows no other. Where there are three Gods in a religion, neither Mussulmans nor [Hindus]—nay, not even Jews, Sun-worshippers, or Fire-worshippers97 can believe it true. To eat pigs, and drink wine, to bite greased cartridges, and to mix pig’s fat with flour and sweetmeats, to destroy [Hindus] and Mussulman temples on pretence of making roads, to build churches, to send clergymen into the streets . . . to preach the Christian religion, to institute English schools and to pay people a monthly stipend for learning the English sciences, while the places of worship of [Hindus] and Mussulmans are to this day entirely neglected; with all this, how can the people believe that religion will not be interfered with?98 The rebellion began with religion, and, for it, millions of men have been killed. Let not our subjects be deceived; thousands were deprived of their religion in the North-West, and thousands . . . hanged rather than abandon their religion.99
It is written in the Proclamation, that they who harboured rebels, or who were leaders of rebels, or who caused men to rebel, shall have their lives, but that punishment shall be awarded after deliberation, and that murderers and abettors of murder shall have no mercy shown them, while {172} all others shall be forgiven. Any foolish person can see, that under this Proclamation, no one, be he guilty or innocent, can escape. Everything is written, and yet nothing is written; but they have clearly written that they will not let off anyone implicated; and in whatever village or estate the army may have halted, the inhabitants of that place cannot escape. We are deeply concerned for the condition of our people on reading this Proclamation, which palpably teems with enmity. We now issue a distinct order, and one that may be trusted, that all subjects who may have foolishly presented themselves as heads of villages to the English, shall, before the 1st of January next, present themselves in our camp. Without doubt their faults shall be forgiven then, and they shall be treated according to their merit.100 To believe in this Proclamation, it is only necessary to remember that [Hindustani] rulers are altogether kind and merciful. Thousands have seen this, millions have heard it. No one has ever seen in a dream that the English forgave an offence.
In this Proclamation it is written, that when peace is restored, public works, such as roads and canals, will be made in order to improve the condition of the people. It is worthy of a little reflection, that they have promised no better employment for [Hindustanis] than making roads and digging canals. If people cannot see clearly what this means, there is no help for them. Let no subject be deceived by the Proclamation.
“Confession of a Female Pandey”101
Shortly after the publication of Queen Victoria’s Proclamation, thousands of rebels surrendered. Among them was a woman named “Mooleah,” identified as a Gowara, or a member of a herding caste of Central India. She gave the following account of her activities to the British. She seems to have been a sepoy’s lover, if not his wife, and her account of how the rebellion ended {173} may be viewed as representative of the fate of many rebel contingents.
I was at Nowgong when the Sepoys of the 12th N.I. and a bullock battery mutinied in June 1857; from there I went with them to [Kalpi]: having remained here ten days, we marched to [Kanpur] being sent for by the Nana. We encamped near the canal: all the Europeans had been killed before our arrival. From [Kanpur] we proceeded to [Fatehpur], close to the latter place we met a European force, had a fight with them, and lost all our guns; [Tatya Tope] commanded our army; we had a great number killed and wounded, and the sepoys returned to [Kanpur] very much disheartened.102 I left with a Sepoy named [Mahadeo Singh], of the 12th N.I., and 5 others towards Banda, and [Tatya Tope] and the Nana went with a large force in the direction of [Bithur].
At Banda we met [Kunwar Singh’s] party including the [Dinapur] mutineers; we remained here a month . . . then returned to [Kalpi], where we halted for twelve or thirteen days; from this place we proceeded to [Kanpur].103
At [Kalpi] we were joined by the Gwalior Contingent. When we reached [Kanpur], the Nana ordered [Kunwar Singh] to proceed with the [Dinapur] Brigade to Lucknow: the Gwalior Continent remaining at [Kanpur], to attack the Europeans. We stopped at Lucknow a month: our sepoys received their pay . . . there from the Begum, and were ordered . . . to proceed to [Faizabad] or [Ayodhya], where we remained twelve or thirteen days, and then went to [Azamgarh].104 On our road we had a fight with the English. At [Azamgarh] we fought for fifteen or sixteen days, and when the larger European force arrived from Lucknow, we ran away: we fought every day until our arrival at [Sheopur Ghat]; the pursuit was so hot, that sometimes we had not time to drink water, and the sepoys were so totally exhausted, that they could not have gone much further [Kunwar Singh] travelled in a [palki]. We got boats at the [ghat], {174} and as [Kunwar Singh] was crossing in one, he was wounded in the arm by a grape shot; he cut his arm off with his own hand, and threw it into the Ganges: he went to [Jagdishpur], and died there. . . .105
When we attacked the Europeans who came out from Arrah, we first began to run away, but when we heard that the [farangis] were tired, and were retreating themselves, we returned and attacked them a second time, following them close up to Arrah, and killing a great number. This is the report I heard from the sepoys. There was a great [tamasha] that night at [Jagdishpur], on account of the two guns &c. having been captured from the Europeans.
When the large English force arrived at [Jagdishpur], the sepoys ran away and remained about the jungles, fighting for a good many days. From thence we went and hid about [Gahmar], but as soon as we heard that the English had left the jungle, we returned to it and remained there till driven out a second time.
[. . .]
When driven out of the [Jagdishpur] jungles about a month ago, we went to the [Rohtas] Hills and there suffered the greatest privation, many . . . having had jungle fever like the rest of the prisoners you took with me.106 A child that was born to me at [Jagdishpur] before our flight, died on the road, and [Mahadeo Singh] the sepoy I was with was shot a few days ago by your soldiers in the Hills.
I have often heard the sepoys talk about this mutiny; the cartridge had nothing to do with it; that was all a [bahona].107 They had got conceited, and were fighting for their [din] and thought they could drive the [farangis] out of the country.
Now they perceive their folly and mistake, and curse and swear against themselves, and the men who led them astray.
1. These documents have been lightly edited to modernize the grammar, spelling, and punctuation styles for easier comprehension. They have otherwise been kept in their original format as much as possible.
2. Syed Ahmad Khan, Causes of the Indian Revolt (1873), 3–11. The original was written in Hindustani, or Urdu, in 1858, and translated fifteen years later.
3. Baked flatbread, made with unleavened dough. See Document 2.
4. When the rising began in India, the EIC was fighting a war with Persia, or Iran.
5. A farman is an official royal order.
6. Metcalfe, Two Native Narratives (1898), 39–40.
7. Kaye, Sepoy War (1864), 1:348–352.
8. John Lang, Wanderings in India: And Other Sketches of Life in Hindostan (London: Routledge, Warne, & Routledge, 1859), 179–181.
9. Syed Ahmad Khan, Causes of the Indian Revolt (1873), 12–16.
10. A reference to James Thomason, formerly lieutenant governor of the North-Western Provinces, who completed implementation of Act VII of 1822.
11. Forrest, State Papers (1893), 1:3–6.
12. Ghee is clarified butter.
13. Forrest, 1:8–12.
14. “The Causes of the Indian Mutiny,” The Bombay Times & Journal of Commerce, May 8, 1858, 4.
15. Forrest, State Papers (1893), 1:109–113.
16. Bahenchods, or “sister-fuckers,” a common insult among sepoys.
17. Rizvi and Bhargava, FSUP (1958), 1:12–13.
18. This refers to a British official who dealt directly with the peshwa and his family at Bithur.
19. The peshwa’s stipendary payments alone would have been £2,640,000.
20. Metcalfe, Two Native Narratives (1898), 31–38.
21. Here, Main-ud-Din’s chronology is somewhat confused, as the 19th and 34th native infantries were already at Berhampur and Barrackpur by the end of 1856.
22. Forrest, State Papers (1893), 1:227–229.
23. “. . . [S]end to the guard,” i.e., to place under arrest.
24. Badnam, or “bad name.”
25. Forrest, State Papers (1893), 1:249–250.
26. Nallah, a ravine through which a stream flows. Meerut Cantonment was divided in half by the Mahanadi, with the European lines north of the creek, and the sepoy lines, sadar bazaar, civil station, and native city south of it.
27. The 6th Carabineers—a regiment of dragoons—and HM 60th Rifles were both British Army units.
28. William Muir, Records of the Intelligence Department of the Government of the North-West Provinces of India during the Mutiny of 1857, ed. William Coldstream, 2 vols. (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clarke, 1902), 2:35–36.
29. A qiladar is an officer in charge of a fort. Douglas would be the officer Ghalib referred to as “Guardian” of the Red Fort. See Document 22.
30. Fraser was the British political agent assigned to Bahadur Shah II.
31. This confrontation occurred just inside the Kashmir Gate, through which the troops from the cantonment entered the city.
32. Metcalfe, Two Native Narratives (1898), 84–87.
33. Ahsanullah Khan was the king’s physician and wazir, and as Bahadur Shah II was very old and infirm, he was an important person at the court.
34. These were the princely states and large zamindari estates closest to Delhi.
35. The Diwan-i-Khas, or Hall of Special Audience, was supposed to be used only by noblemen.
36. The words translated here were: “Aré, Padshah! Aré, buddha!”
37. Gubbins, Mutinies in Oudh (1858), 1–13.
38. “Thuggee,” or thagi, refers here to a cult of alleged ritual murderers who once had roamed the highways of Hindustan, waylaying travelers in order to kill and rob them as an act of devotion to the goddess Kali. Thags, or “thugs,” were isolated in special jails to prevent their converting other men in prison.
39. This was one of the palaces seized at the time of the annexation. It was located near the area occupied by Hazrat Mahal and the Awadhi royal family.
40. “Writer,” or clerk.
41. Gall’s Irregular Horse was part of the former king of Awadh’s army.
42. Although a civilian, Gubbins accompanied Lawrence as a member of his staff.
43. A long-handled holder for a lit taper used to fire artillery pieces.
44. Meaning “Victory to the Company! Victory to the Gallant Company!”
45. Muir, Records of the Intelligence Department (1902), 2:37.
46. That is, just prior to the Battle of Badli-ki-Sarai.
47. Adelaide Case, Day by Day at Lucknow: A Journal of the Siege of Lucknow (London: Richard Bentley, 1858), 10–17.
48. An ayah was a nanny or nursemaid, especially for European children in India.
49. Shamiana refers to an awning—perhaps, here, an awning-shaded platform.
50. Syed Ahmed Khan, Causes of the Indian Revolt (1873), 16–30.
51. Chaudhuris were the chief landholders of a village, and usually dominated the village council.
52. “The Old Native Landed Interest and Our Revenue & Legal Systems,” The Bombay Times & Journal of Commerce, January 29, 1859, 69.
53. Frederic Cooper, The Crisis in the Punjab, From the 10th of May until the Fall of Delhi (London: Smith Elder & Co., 1858), 158–164.
54. A large number of women and children had fled with the sepoys. Their ultimate fate is unclear, but probably many of them were killed.
55. Cooper here refers to himself.
56. Here, Cooper refers to the accidental suffocation of English prisoners in the “Black Hole,” or soldiers’ brig of Fort William when it was captured by Suraj-ud-Daula in 1756.
57. Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib, Dastanbuy: A Diary of the Indian Revolt of 1857, tr. Khwaja Ahmad Faruqi (Bombay: Asia Publishing House, 1970), 33–39.
58. The telegraph line to Ambala was cut on May 11, 1857, but Ghalib’s remark here may indicate that the rebels repaired the line sufficiently to carry on a local service, at least temporarily.
59. “Dervish,” or Sufi—a Muslim mystic.
60. Parliament of Great Britain, House of Commons, Accounts & Papers of the House of Commons, 1857–1858, Inclusion 17, in No. 8 (London: Harrison & Son, 1858), 12, Part 3:129–133.
61. The European prisoners referred to were the British refugees from Farrukhabad, a town about one hundred miles up the Ganges from Kanpur.
62. Thomson, Cawnpore (1859), 160–171.
63. J. W. Scherer, Daily Life During the Indian Mutiny: Personal Experiences of 1857 (London: Swan Sonnenschein & Co., 1910), 76–80.
64. Translation: “The Universe is God’s/ the country is the Gallant Company’s/ the rule is the Exalted Sahibs’.”
65. Excerpt from the Qaisar-ut-Tawarikh, 2:225, in FSUP, 2:81–88.
66. Sepoy mutineers—literally “army men.”
67. “Foolish,” i.e., cognitively disabled person.
68. Khas Mahal can refer to Hazrat Mahal’s title as chief queen, or to her quarters.
69. Mummoo Khan was darogah of the Diwan Khana, or Hall of Audience, and Jeylal Singh was the minister for war.
70. A woman held as a royal slave.
71. A mundeel was a turban denoting the rank of a Mughal military officer. Here, the term used for sepoys is telinga, which was a very old-fashioned word by the 1850s.
72. Hazrat Mahal.
73. Rizvi and Bhargava, FSUP (1958), 1:450–451.
74. Inglis, Lucknow (1892), 86–89, 99–100.
75. Brydon was the only British soldier who had survived the retreat from Kabul in 1842.
76. Rizvi and Bhargava, FSUP (1958), 2:165–166.
77. Morcha, or trench; in this sense, probably meaning “redoubts” or firing lines.
78. Bhajans are folk songs, often religious in nature; a daira is a handheld frame drum with jingles and a dhapli is a tambourine.
79. “Kanhaiya,” or adolescent—“just a boy.”
80. Muir, Records of the Intelligence Department (1902), 2:6–10.
81. Tahsildars were low-ranking Indian sub-district officials. Muir’s reports indicate that some of these men aided the rebels, while some simply tried to placate them. In the original, Bhathara is referred to as Furra—probably Furra Salempur—a village in the Bhathara jurisdiction, just east of Etawah.
82. Jangi-Lat Sahib, or commander in chief. This report suggests confusion among the rebels regarding the movements and intentions of various British columns, and the identity of their commanders.
83. “Din-Din!” essentially meaning, “For our faith!”
84. Seth, or banker. Such persons often accompanied armies to help transfer funds using hundis, or discounted bills of exchange.
85. Adeeng, a village due west of Mathura and Vrindavan.
86. A kos was a unit of length, variably defined, but in this case probably equal to about two miles.
87. Metcalfe, Two Native Narratives (1898), 69–73.
88. Bahadur Shah II, like the princes, was also at Humayun’s tomb. Main-ud-Din seems to have thought that the emperor was hiding, separately, in the ruins of Tughluqabad, south of Delhi.
89. British sources say that the princes were shot outside the city. Also, Bahadur Shah and the princes were arrested separately, on successive days.
90. S. C. Macpherson, political agent at Gwalior, “Report on the Affairs of Gwalior, 30 Sep. 1858,” in FSUP, 3:446–447.
91. The Gwalior Contingent was Sindhia’s former army, now with the rebels.
92. Tatya Tope had gone to Gwalior to ascertain whether the people there were likely to support the rebels.
93. “Army” here means Sindhia’s remaining forces, as the Gwalior Contingent had already rebelled.
94. Baiza Bai, a former regent, had long been head of the anti-British faction in Sindhia’s court, and she had been exiled by the British after the intervention that had put Jayoji Rao Sindhia on the gaddi of Gwalior.
95. Rizvi and Bhargava, FSUP (1958), 2:528–531.
96. Hazrat Mahal here refers to the treaty of 1801, in which the British received several districts from Awadh in lieu of future subsidy payments.
97. “Fire-worshippers,” or Parsis.
98. It was common, at the time, for evangelical missionaries at Benares to preach on the ghats, especially during festivals, always attracting hecklers and crowds eager to watch the “show.”
99. The “thousands . . . deprived of their religion in the North-West” probably refers to the sepoys’ widespread perception that the First Anglo-Afghan War had been defiling for Hindus and theologically problematic for Muslims.
100. January 1, 1858, was the amnesty deadline stipulated in Queen Victoria’s Proclamation.
101. “North-West Provinces,” The Bombay Times & Journal of Commerce, December 11, 1858, 774.
102. “Mooleah” refers to the first massacre of the Farrukhabad fugitives and the mass killing at Sati Chaura Ghat; the Bibigarh massacre occurred after the battle of Fatehpur.
103. Kunwar Singh took charge of the Dinapur rebels on July 5, 1857, and they were driven from Arrah on August 3.
104. Kunwar Singh’s force was at Lucknow in December 1857, and moved on to Azamgarh in March 1858.
105. Kunwar Singh died on April 26, 1858. Before the Rebellion, he had been a zamindar near Jagdishpur, and the palace where he died still exists.
106. The Rohtas Hills was a plateau area of southwestern Bihar, shielded from assailants by an escarpment, with steep passes. The 2,000–square mile region was covered with jungle and full of ravines—ideal for guerrilla fighting.
107. Bahona means a pretense.