Although the military operations conducted by Sir Hugh Rose and his heroic companions, bearing relation to the reconquest of Gwalior, and the re-establishment of Scindia on his Mahratta throne, were the most interesting events in India during the month of June, the other provinces also witnessed struggles and contests which equally need to be chronicled; seeing that they all contributed towards the one great and earnestly desired result—the pacification of the Anglo-Indian empire. Terrible, it is true, were the labours of the gallant men who fought and marched against the rebels under the scorching heat of an Indian sun—heat which was that year excessive, even for India itself; but such labours were necessary, and were borne with a degree of cheerfulness which commands our admiration for the sterling qualities of British troops. Sir Colin Campbell yearned to place his brave men under shade and at rest, until such time as the rains should have cooled down the summer’s fiery temperature; he did so to such an extent as was practicable; but this extent was not great. June, as we shall see, was a month of much fighting in the regions adjacent to the Ganges, the Jumna, the Chumbul, and the Sone.

Calcutta saw nothing of the governor-general during many months. He took up his abode at Allahabad; filling the offices not only of governor-general of the whole of India, but special governor of some of those disturbed regions which had at one time been called the Northwest Provinces, and at another the Central Provinces. This he had done in order that he might be in more easy communication with the commander-in-chief, and in more prompt receipt of intelligence from the various stations and camps in Oude, Behar, Rohilcund, the Doab, Bundelcund, Central India, and Rajpootana. How the weight of responsibility pressed on one who had to govern at such a time and in such a climate, few were aware; he worked on, early and late, thinking only how best he could act as the Queen’s viceroy for India. Calcutta had not much more to do with Lord Canning’s proceedings at that period, than the other presidential cities; for he had his staff of government employés with him at Allahabad.

Bengal was nearly at peace in June; few troubles disturbed the equable flow of commerce and industry. One slight transaction of an opposite kind may, however, be briefly noticed. A body of sailors sent from Calcutta had an opportunity of bringing some rebels to an account, and defeating them in the wonted style. A naval brigade, under Captain Moore, was stationed in the district of Singbhoom, southwest of Calcutta, near the frontier between the Bengal and Madras presidencies. The district comprised the four petty states of Singbhoom, Colehan, Surakella, and Khursawa, each of which had its rajah or chieftain. The only town of any note in the district was Chyebassa; and here was the Company’s civil station. The Rajah of Singbhoom, at the period now under notice, was endeavouring, like many other rajahs, to strengthen himself by throwing off British supremacy. It happened, on the 9th of the month, when the brigade was encamped at Chuckerderpore, but when some of the officers had gone to Chyebassa, that the camp was suddenly attacked by the rajah’s motley retinue of Koles, a half-savage tribe armed with battle-axes, bows and arrows, spears, and matchlocks. They invested the camp on all sides, and made a very fierce attack. The seamen poured in a few shells among them, which threw them into much disorder. After this a party of thirty went out, and committed much havoc among them in a hand-to-hand contest. Captain Moncrieff then rode in from Chyebassa, with a cavalry escort, and at once engaged with the rebels. After five hours’ skirmishing, the mid-day sun exhausted alike Europeans and Koles; and nothing further occurred till the morning of the 10th. The rebels were so numerous that the brigade could only attack them on one side at once; and thus it was not until the arrival of a hundred Ramgurh troops and fifty Sikhs, at noon on the 11th, that the rajah and his Koles gave way—retreating to the jungles of Porahaut.

In other parts of Bengal there were petty chieftains of like character, who were quite willing to set up as kings on their own account—regardless of treaties existing between them and the Company, and actuated solely by the temptations afforded during a period of disorder. But the conditions were not favourable to them. The meek and cowardly Bengalees did not imitate the Hindustanis of the Doab and Oude; the hill-tribes were too few in number to be formidable; and the steady arrival of British troops at Calcutta strengthened the hands of the authorities in all the surrounding regions. Arrangements were gradually made for increasing the number of European troops at Calcutta, Dacca, Barrackpore, Berhampore, Hazarebagh, Jessore, and one or two other stations—so as to place the whole of Bengal more immediately under the eye of the military authorities.

These defensive measures extended as far north as Darjeeling—one of those healthy and temperate Hill-stations which have so often been adverted to in former chapters as important sanitaria for the English in India. Simla, Landour, Kussowlie, Subathoo, Mussouree, Dugshai, Almora, and Nynee Tal, are all of this character; and to these may be added Darjeeling. A patch of hill-country, containing about three hundred square miles, and formerly belonging to the Rajah of Sikim, was obtained by the Company a few years ago, and Darjeeling established near its centre. The Himalayas bound it on the north, Nepaul on the west, Bhotan on the east, and two of the Bengal districts on the south. The hills and valleys are beautiful, and the climate healthy. Darjeeling is more particularly mentioned in this place, because, about the date to which this chapter refers, public attention was called to a project for establishing a settlement called Hope Town, on the slopes of a hill near Darjeeling. This settlement was to be for independent emigrants, colonists, or settlers, from the plains, or even from Europe; who, it was hoped, might be tempted to that region by a fertile soil and a magnificent climate, and thus gradually introduce English farming at the base of the Himalayas. A company or society purchased or leased about fourteen thousand acres of hill-land, in Darjeeling district, but not in immediate contiguity to Darjeeling town. It was announced that the locality contained clay for bricks, rubble for masonry, lime for mortar, timber for carpentry and for fuel, and all the essential requisites for building; water was abundant, from the mountain streams and springs; while peaceful natives in the neighbouring plains would be eager to obtain employment as artisans and labourers. The elevation of the land, varying from three to six thousand feet, offered much facility of choice. As the government had commenced a road from Darjeeling and Hope Town to Caragola Ghât on the Ganges, there would be good markets for hill produce in many parts of Bengal—perhaps in Calcutta itself. When the project of this Hope Town settlement was first formed in 1856, it was intended that the projectors should grant leases of small plots for farms or dwellings, for a fixed number of years, and at a rental so small as to attract settlers; while at the same time this rental should so far exceed what the speculators paid to the government as to enable them to construct a road, and build a school-room, church, library, and other component elements for a town. This, it may be observed, was only one among several colonising projects brought before public notice in India. The land containing many magnificent tracts, and the climate presenting many varieties of temperature, it has often been urged that that noble country presents advantages for settlement which ought no longer to be overlooked. So long as the East India Company’s power existed, any colonising schemes would necessarily prove almost abortive; but now that British India owns no other ruler than the sovereign of England, there may in future years be an opening offered for the thorough examination and testing of this important question, that its merits and demerits may be fairly compared. Some of the advocates of colonisation have painted imaginary pictures so glowing as to represent India as the true Dorado or Golden Land of the widely spreading British empire; some of the opponents of colonisation, on the other hand, have asserted that British farmers could not live in India if they would, and would not if they could:—the future will strike out a practicable mean between these two extremes.

The controversy concerning Indian heat, in reference to the wants and constitutions of English settlers, bore very closely on the subject of colonisation, and on the difference between the hilly districts and the plains. In military matters, however, and in reference to the struggle actually going on, all admitted that the summer of 1858 had been more than usually fierce in its heat. A correspondent of one of the journals said: ‘As if to try the endurance of Englishmen to the utmost, the season has been such as has not been known since 1833. Those who know Bengal will understand it when I say that on the 15th inst. one clergyman in Calcutta buried forty-eight Englishmen, chiefly sailors. In one ship the captain, chief-mate, and twenty-six men, had all apoplexy at once. Nine men from Fort-William were buried one morning from the same cause. Her Majesty’s 19th, at Barrackpore, who are nearly all under cover, and who are most carefully looked after, have 200 men unfit for duty from immense boils. All over the country paragraph after paragraph announces the deaths of so many men at such a place from apoplexy.’ The same writer mentions the case of a colonel who, just arrived with his regiment at Calcutta, and, unfamiliar with an Indian climate, marched off his men with their stocks on: in an hour afterwards he and his instructor in rifle-practice were both dead from apoplexy.

Before quitting Calcutta, it may be well to mention that the month of June was marked by an honourable and energetic movement for recording the services and cherishing the memory of Mr Venables, one of those civil servants of the Company who displayed an undaunted spirit, and considerable military talent, in times of great trial. It will be remembered that, after many months of active service, both civil and military, Mr Venables was wounded at Azimghur on the 15th of April;^[180] from the effects of this wound he soon afterwards sank—dying as he had lived, a frank and gallant man. A committee was formed in Calcutta to found, by individual subscriptions, some sort of memorial worthy of the man. Viscount Canning took an early opportunity of joining in this manifestation; and in a letter to the committee he spoke of Mr Venables in the following terms: ‘It will be a satisfaction to me to join in this good work, not only on account of the admiration which I feel for the high qualities which Mr Venables devoted to the public service, his intrepidity in the field, his energy and calm temper in upholding the civil authority, and his thoroughly just appreciation of the people and circumstances with which he had to deal; but also, and especially, on account of circumstances attending the last service which Mr Venables rendered to his country. After the capture of Lucknow, where he was attached to Brigadier General Franks’ column, Mr Venables came to Allahabad. He was broken in health and spirits, anxious for rest, and looking forward eagerly to his return to England, for which his preparations were made. At that time the appearance of affairs near Azimghur was threatening; and I asked Mr Venables to forego his departure from India, and return to that district, with which he was intimately acquainted—there to assist in preserving order until danger should have passed away. He at once consented cheerfully; and that consent cost him his life. I am certain that the Court of Directors, who are fully informed of all particulars of Mr Venables’s great services and untimely death, will be eager to mark, in such manner as shall seem best to them, their appreciation of the character of this brave, self-denying English gentleman; and I am truly glad to have an opportunity of joining with his fellow-countrymen in India in testifying the sincere respect which I feel for his memory.’

Beyond the limits of Bengal, one of the many interesting questions that pressed upon public attention bore relation to Nepaul and Jung Bahadoor. That gay, gorgeous, shrewd, and unscrupulous chieftain had gone back to his own country somewhat dissatisfied with his share in the Oude campaign, or with the advantages accruing from it. Queen Victoria had made him a Grand Cross of the Bath—a gentle knight ‘sans peur et sans reproche,’ according to the original meaning of that honourable distinction; but there were those who believed he would have better welcomed some more substantial recognition of his services, such as a fair slice out of the territory of Oude. Some doubted his fidelity to the British cause, and among these were several of the leaders among the rebels. There came to light a most remarkable correspondence, shewing in what way Jung Bahadoor was tempted to swerve from his allegiance, and in what way he resisted the temptation. Several letters were made public—by what agency does not clearly appear—addressed by the Begum of Oude and her adherents to the Nepaulese chieftain. About the period to which this chapter relates, the rebel party at Lucknow disseminated rumours to the effect that Jung Bahadoor, after his return to Nepaul, had been written to by the Begum, and that he had undertaken to throw in his lot with the ‘patriots’ of Oude. That the attempt was made is clear enough; but the nature of the response, so far as the published correspondence revealed it, certainly does not seem to implicate him. One letter, apparently written about the end of May, was signed by Mahomed Surfraz Ali, who designated himself ambassador of the King of Oude. It began by expressing astonishment that Nepaul should have aided the infidel British, after having in former days been in friendly alliance with Oude. ‘The chiefs of every tribe,’ it said, ‘should fight for their religion as long as they live.’ Considering that the Oude royal family were Mohammedans, and the Nepaulese Hindoos, the ambassador had some difficulty in so framing his letter as to prove that Jung Bahadoor ought to aid them rather than the English; and indeed his logic was somewhat lame. The ambassador stated that he was then writing at Toolseepore, whither he had been sent by the powerful Moulvie Ahmedoolah Shah, on the part of the King of Oude, to act as accredited agent or ambassador with the Nepaul authorities. He proceeded to state that seven letters, in the Persian language, had been written by Mahomed Khan Bahadoor, viceroy of Oude, to as many of the chief personages in Oude—among others, to Jung Bahadoor himself; and that two letters, in the Hindee language, had been written under the seal of the King of Oude, one addressed to the King of Nepaul, and one to Jung Bahadoor. Mahomed Surfraz Ali added: ‘Neither I nor the servants of our government are acquainted with your titles, or those of your authorities, so we cannot address you properly. I am in hopes that you will send me word how we should address you; and pray forgive any mistakes or omissions in this letter.’ He begged the favour of a letter, with the chieftain’s seal attached, for presentation to the court of Oude. The letters purporting to be written by or for ‘Ramzan Ali Khan Mirza Birjiz Kudr Bahadoor,’ King of Oude, assumed quite a regal style, and almost claimed the alliance of the Nepaul Maharajah as a right. The royal letter-writer made short work of the causes of the mutiny: ‘The British some time ago attempted to interfere with the faith of both the Hindoos and the Mohammedans, by preparing cartridges with cows’ grease for the Hindoos, and that of pigs’ for the Mohammedans, and ordering them to bite them with their teeth. The sepoys refused, and were ordered by the British to be blown away from guns on the parade-ground. This is the cause of the war breaking out, and probably you are acquainted with it. But I am ignorant as to how they managed to get your troops, which they brought down here, and began to commit every sort of violence, and to pull down temples, mosques, imaumbarahs, and sacred places. You are well aware of the treachery of the British; and it is proper you should preserve the standard of religion, and make the tree of friendship between you and me fresh.’ The real correspondents, in this exchange of letters, were the Begum of Oude and Jung Bahadoor. The astute chieftain wrote a reply, couched in such terms as to suggest a probability that the British resident at Khatmandoo was at his elbow. One of his high-flown paragraphs ran thus: ‘Since the star of faith and integrity, sincerity in words as well as in acts, and wisdom and comprehension, of the British, are shining as bright as the sun in every quarter of the globe, be assured that my government will never disunite itself from the friendship of the exalted British government, or be instigated to join with any monarch against it, be he as high as heaven. What grounds can we have for connecting ourselves with the Hindoos and Mohammedans of Hindostan?’ And he ended with this bit of advice: ‘As you have sent me a friendly letter, let me persuade you, that if any person, Hindoo or Mohammedan, who has not murdered a British lady or child, goes immediately to Mr Montgomery, the chief-commissioner of Lucknow, and surrenders his arms, and makes submission, he will be permitted to retain his honour, and his crime will be pardoned. If you still be inclined to make war on the British, no rajah or king in the world will give you an asylum; and death will be the end of it.’ This reply, supposing it to be a spontaneous expression of the real sentiments of Jung Bahadoor, would have possessed very high value; but a large deduction must probably be made both from the spontaneity and the sincerity.

It may perhaps be well to notice that the royal house of Oude was at discord with itself in those days, and that the king’s name was used ‘as a tower of strength’ by intriguers who cared little for rightful ownership. The real king—that is, the ex-king—was at Calcutta, a prisoner and a half-idiot, with depravity enough to enjoy plots, but not brains to execute them. The legitimate son and heir, so to speak, was in Europe, where he had lately buried his grandmother the dowager-queen of Oude, and was spending his father’s money at a very rapid rate. The regal personages at Lucknow were the Begum and her son. The Begum was one of the king’s many ladies; and her son was a weak-headed youth of thirteen years old—‘illegitimate,’ according to the assertions of the ‘legitimate’ son at that time in Europe. The exiled king and his two sons were, in reference to these machinations at Lucknow, mere tools or pretences; the real mover was the clever and ambitious Begum. In Nepaul, likewise, the real power was possessed, not by the maharajah, or sovereign, but by his all-controlling, king-making subject, Jung Bahadoor.

The proceedings of the Oudian intriguers during the month of June will presently be noticed in other ways; but it will be convenient first to attend to the affairs of Behar.

In former chapters it has been narrated, in sufficient fulness for the purpose in view, how the western provinces of Behar were troubled by the Jugdispore and Dinapoor rebels, and with how many difficulties Sir Edward Lugard had to contend in bringing his ‘Azimghur Field-force’ to bear against them. The month of June offered no exception to this state of things. Most harassing indeed were the labours which they brought upon him, testing his patience and perseverance more, perhaps, than his military skill. Notwithstanding the numerous defeats which they had suffered, these mutinied sepoys and armed budmashes were continually moving from place to place—giving evidence of their presence by murder, plunder, and burning. The jungles around Jugdispore afforded many facilities for hiding and secret flight. One of the many defeats inflicted by Sir Edward occurred on the 27th of May. Immediately afterwards a body of several hundreds of those insurgents issued from the eastern portion of the jungle, and shewed themselves in their true character as marauders bent on mischief, rather than as soldiers fighting for a definite cause. On the 30th they burned an indigo factory at Twining Gunge, a place near Dumoran; whilst on the same day another body advanced to the village of Rajpore, within eight miles of Buxar, and murdered two natives in government service. From thence they wandered, during the next four or five days, among the neighbouring villages, working mischief at every step. In anything like a military sense, these bands of marauders were contemptible; but so numerous were the unemployed and half-fed ruffians in the disturbed districts, that there were always materials at hand for swelling the numbers of these freebooting insurgents. Lugard was compelled to keep his troops moving about, between Arrah and Buxar; while the authorities at Ghazeepore and Benares were on the alert to check any advance of the rebels towards those cities. On the 2d of June he divided his force into two wings, and established camps at Keshwa and Dulleepore, with a line of posts across the jungle. On the next day he cut a broad road through the jungle to connect the two camps. Having thus completely hemmed a considerable body of the rebels within the southern end of the jungle, he attacked them with his whole force on the 4th, with a very successful result—so far as regarded the maintenance of military superiority. The rebels attempted for a time to make a stand; but the 10th and 84th foot, charging with the bayonet, defeated them with great slaughter. Here again, however, was the old story repeated; his hope of capturing the main body of rebels was frustrated; they broke up into small bands, and fled in various directions.

Instead of describing numerous petty contests that occurred during the month, it may be well to illustrate the peculiar characteristics of the struggle by one particular instance, to shew that the British troops in Behar had more certainty of hard work than chance of glory. During the first week in June, Sir Edward intrusted to Brigadier Douglas the duty of intercepting a body of rebels from the Jugdispore district towards Buxar—a difficult duty, on account of the ingenuity of the rebels in eluding pursuit. Douglas started on the 7th, taking with him H.M. 84th foot, a troop of the 4th Madras cavalry, three troops of the military train, and three guns of the royal horse-artillery. On that and the two following days he marched to Buxar, by way of Shahpoor and Saumgunje. Between the 10th and the 13th he was busily engaged in the almost hopeless task of catching the rebels who were known to be marching and marauding not far distant. Now he would descry a few hundred of them in a tope of trees, and send his horse-artillery to disperse them with grape-shot; now he would cross the little river Surronuddee, or the Kurrumnassa, or hasten to the Sheapoor Ghât, in the hope of cutting off fugitives; now he would march through or near the villages of Ghamur, Chawsa, or Barra, in search either of rebels or of intelligence. His success by no means repaid him for his harassing exertions; he could seldom rely on information obtained concerning the movements of the rebels, and still more seldom could he catch the rebels themselves. In his dispatch relating to these operations, the brigadier said: ‘Three men of the royal horse-artillery died during the night from the effects of the sun, and one man of the 84th.... The heat during the operations was intense, and the troops suffered much, particularly the 84th regiment, who have now been thirteen months in the field. I consider this regiment at present to be quite unfit for active service; the men have no positive disease, but they are so exhausted that they can neither eat nor sleep.’ If they could have encountered the enemy, and thoroughly vanquished them in a regular battle, the overworked and heat-worn soldiers would have borne this and more than this cheerfully; but they had to deal with rebels who eluded their search in an extraordinary way. Sir Edward Lugard, in a dispatch written on the 14th, dated from his camp at Narainpoor, near Jugdispore, adverted to this subject in the following terms: ‘To shew the rapidity and secrecy with which the rebels conduct their movements, I beg to state, that in order to guard against the return of any party from the west towards the jungles, without my getting timely intelligence, so that I might intercept them, I posted at Roop-Saugor—a village thirteen miles to my southwest, on the track taken by the rebels in their flight—Captain Rattray, with his Sikh battalion. He again threw forward scouts some miles in the same direction, and constantly had parties patrolling in the different villages. But in spite of every precaution, the rebel force were at Medneepore, within four miles of him, before he could communicate with me, and passed on towards the jungle the same night. Every endeavour to obtain information from the people of the district has proved vain; scarcely ever has any intelligence been given to us, until the time has passed when advantage could be taken of it.’

In reference to these Jugdispore rebels, it has been remarked that they were neither Sikhs from the west, nor Poorbeahs from the east; but chiefly Bhojpoories of the Shahabad district, most of them born on Koer Singh’s own estates. Moreover, causes have been assigned for thinking that these, as well as other rebels, adhered most to those leaders who could treat them best, whether in pay or plunder, without much reference to their military abilities. ‘The extraordinary variations in the numbers of the insurgents may be partly accounted for by variations in the readiness of pay. Koer Singh, when he left Oude, had barely five hundred men in his train. As he marched, every straggling sepoy, every embarrassed scoundrel with a sword, enlisted in his service. By the time he reached Azimghur he had two thousand five hundred followers; most, but not all, well armed. The flight across the river dispersed them once more; and it was not till the check sustained by H.M. 35th that they thronged to him again. Apparently the leaders are well aware of the advantage this peculiarity affords. Thus, after their defeat by Sir E. Lugard, the great bulk of the Behar insurgents vanished; the work was apparently complete, and the military ends of the campaign to all appearance accomplished. The leaders, however, remained in the jungle, and in five days their followers were round them again; they had glided back in twos and threes, by paths on which no European would be met.’

After many weeks of fatiguing duty in this region, Sir Edward Lugard, worn with heat and sickness, resigned the command about the end of June; handing over to Colonel Douglas the office of chasing the Jugdispore rebels from place to place. Nor was it in that particular locality alone that this duty had to be fulfilled. Ummer Singh, equalling his deceased brother in activity, was no sooner defeated in one place than he made his appearance in another, carrying discord into villages where his presence was as little desired by natives as by Europeans. While Colonel Douglas was on his way towards the scene of his new command, news reached him that the English at Gayah had been driven into intrenchments by a party of a hundred and fifty rebel prisoners, who had been set at liberty by the native police employed to watch them, and were speedily joined by the jail convicts; all—prisoners, police, and convicts—became suddenly ‘patriots,’ and shewed their patriotism by threatening all the officials at the station. This is believed to have been done by some connivance with Ummer Singh. The Europeans at Gayah were thrown into a great ferment by this visitation; the few troops present were withdrawn into the intrenchment, as were likewise the civilians, ladies, and children. No immediate attack followed; but the incident furnished one among many proofs that the native police were, in most of the Bengal and Hindostan provinces, a source of more danger than protection to the British—except the Sikh police, who almost uniformly behaved well.

The transactions in Oude, during the month of June, told of rebels defeated but not disbanded, weakened but not captured. There were many leaders, and these required to be narrowly watched.

One of the first cares of the authorities was to place the important city of Lucknow in such a state of defence as to render it safe from attacks within and without. Various military works were planned by Colonel Napier, and were executed by Major Crommelin after Napier’s departure. From the vast extent of Lucknow, and the absence of any very prominent features of the ground, it was a difficult city to defend except by a large body of troops. The point which gave the nearest approach to a command over the city was the old fort or Muchee Bhowan, near which was the great Emanbarra, capable of sheltering a large number of troops. It was decided to select several spots as military posts, to clear the ground round those spots, and to open streets or roads of communication from post to post. The Muchee Bhowan was selected as the chief of these posts; a second was near the iron bridge leading over the Goomtee to the Fyzabad road; a third was on the site of the Residency, now a heap of ruins; a fourth was at the Moosa Bagh. All suburbs and buildings lying on the banks of the river, likely to intercept the free march of troops from the Muchee Bhowan to the Moosa Bagh, were ordered to be swept away. Large masses of houses were also removed, to form good military roads from the Muchee Bhowan to the Char Bagh, the Moosa Bagh, the stone bridge, the iron bridge, and the old cantonment. The vast range of palaces, such as the Fureed Buksh, the Chuttur Munzil, the Kaiser Bagh, &c., were converted temporarily into barracks, and all the streets and buildings near them either pulled down or thrown open. The Martinière, the Dil Koosha, and Banks’s house, were formed into military posts on the eastern side of the city. The two extremes of these posts, from northwest to southeast, were not far short of seven miles asunder; they would require a considerable number of troops for their occupancy and defence; but under any circumstances such would be required in the great capital of Oude for a long period to come.

The Alum Bagh continued to be maintained, as an important and useful station on the road from Lucknow to Cawnpore. It was destined to live in history as a place which Sir James Outram had defended for nearly four months against armed forces estimated at little short of a hundred thousand men. It was not originally a fort, only a palace in the midst of a walled garden; but it presented facilities for being made into useful shelter for troops. Another place, the bridge of Bunnee, over the river Sye, was also carefully maintained as an important military post between Lucknow and Cawnpore. During the latter part of May, the English troops employed with Sir Hope Grant in various expeditions against the enemy suffered severely from the heat; and it was found necessary to give the 38th regiment a temporary sojourn in the Emanbarra at Lucknow, supplying their place by the 53d. On the 3d of June the Bunnee force moved out, to disperse a body of rebels who had posted themselves near Pooroa. There was another duty of a singular kind intrusted to these troops. The Rajah of Kupoorthully, a Sikh chieftain, who had rendered valuable services to the government in time of need, received as a reward an extensive jaghire or domain in Oude. In order that he might defend both himself and British interests in that domain, he was assisted in intrenching himself, and was supplied with guns, mortars, and ammunition; this was irrespective of his own force of four thousand Sikh troops.

Shortly after the opening of the month, rumours reached the authorities at Lucknow that a body of rebels, estimated at seventeen or eighteen thousand, had crossed the Gogra, and taken up a position at Ramnuggur Dhumaree, under the orders of Gorhuccus Singh. The correctness of this report was not certain—nor of others that Madhoo Singh was at the head of five thousand rebels at Goosaengunje, Benee Madhoo with a small number in the Poorwah district, and Dunkha Shah with a larger force near Chinhut. Still, though these numbers were probably exaggerated by alarmists, it was not considered prudent to leave the northeast region of Oude unprotected. Accordingly, a movable column was organised, to proceed towards Fyzabad.

Sir Hope Grant, intrusted at that time with the conduct of military affairs in Oude, himself conducted an expedition towards the districts just adverted to. A little before midnight on the 12th of June, acting on information which had reached him, he marched from Lucknow to Chinhut, and thence towards Nawabgunge, on the Fyzabad road. His force consisted of the 2d and 3d battalions of the Rifle Brigade, the 5th Punjaub Rifles, a detachment of Engineers and Sappers, the 7th Hussars, two squadrons of the 2d Dragoon Guards, Hodson’s Horse, a squadron of the first Sikh cavalry, a troop of mounted police, a troop of horse-artillery, and two light field-batteries. Leaving a garrison column at Chinhut, under Colonel Purnell, and intrusting the same officer with the temporary charge of the baggage and supplies belonging to the column, Sir Hope resumed his march during the night towards Nawabgunge, where sixteen thousand rebels had assembled, with several guns. By daylight on the following morning he crossed the Beti Nuddee at Quadrigunje, by means of a ford. He had purposely adopted this route instead of advancing to the bridge on the Fyzabad road; in order that, after crossing the nullah, he might get between the enemy and a large jungle. As a strong force of rebels defended the ford, a sharp artillery-fire, kept up by Mackinnon’s horse-artillery and Johnson’s battery, was necessary to effect this passage. Having surmounted this obstacle, Sir Hope, approaching nearer to Nawabgunge, got into the jungle district. Here the rebels made an attempt to surround him on all sides, and pick off his men by repeated volleys of musketry. The general speedily changed the aspect of affairs. He sent a troop of horse-artillery to the front; Johnson’s battery and two squadrons of horse were sent to defend the left; while a larger body confronted the rebels on the right—where the enemy apparently expected to find and to capture Sir Hope’s baggage. The struggle was very fierce, and the slaughter of the rebels considerable; the enemy, fanatical as well as numerous, gave exercise for all Grant’s boldness and sagacity in contending with them. The victory was complete—and yet it was indefinite; for the rebels, as usual, escaped, to renew their mischief at some other time and place. Nearly six hundred of their number were slain; the wounded were much more numerous. Hope Grant’s list of killed and wounded numbered about a hundred. Many of the rebels were Ghazees or Mohammedan fanatics, far more difficult to deal with than the mutinied sepoys. Adverting to some of the operations on the right flank, Grant said in his dispatch: ‘On arriving at this point, I found that a large number of Ghazees, with two guns, had come out on the open plain, and attacked Hodson’s Horse. I immediately ordered up the other four guns under the command of Lieutenant Percival, and two squadrons of the 7th Hussars under Major Sir W. Russell, and opened grape upon them within three or four hundred yards with terrible effect. But the fanatics made the most determined resistance; and two men in the midst of a shower of grape brought forward two green standards, which they planted in the ground beside their guns, and rallied their men. Captain Atherley’s two companies of the 3d battalion Rifle Brigade at this moment advanced to the attack, which obliged the rebels to move off. The cavalry then got between them and the guns; and the 7th Hussars, led gallantly by Sir W. Russell, supported by Hodson’s Horse under Major Daly, swept through them—killing every man.’ Whatever may have been the causes, proximate or remote, of the mutiny, it is quite evident that such Mussulman fanatics as these, with their green flag of rebellion and their cries of ‘Deen! deen!’ had been worked up, or had worked themselves up, to something like a sincere belief that they were fighting for their religion.

The chief body of rebels, as has just been stated, succeeded in escaping from Nawabgunge after the battle. They fled chiefly to Ramnuggur and Mahadeo on the banks of the Gogra, and to Bhitowlie at the junction of that river with the Chowka—with the apparent and probable intention of throwing up earthworks for the defence of those positions.

Just about the time when Sir Hope Grant defeated these Nawabgunge rebels—supposed to have been headed by the Begum of Oude and her paramour Mummoo Khan—the career of the energetic Moulvie was suddenly cut short at another. This remarkable man, Moulvie Ahmedullah Shah, died as he had long lived, struggling against the Feringhees and all who supported them. On the 15th of June, after having been driven from place to place by the various British columns and detachments, he arrived from Mohumdee at Powayne, a town about sixteen miles northeast of Shahjehanpoor. He had with him a considerable body of horse, and some guns. The Rajah of Powayne, named Juggernath Singh, having incurred the displeasure of the Moulvie by sheltering two native servants of the Company, was attacked by him. Juggernath Singh, and his two brothers Buldeo Singh and Komul Singh, went out to confront the Moulvie as best they could. A skirmish ensued, which lasted three hours. The most notable result was the death of the Moulvie; he received a shot, and fell; his head was at once severed; and the Rajah sent the head and trunk to Shahjehanpoor, to be delivered to Mr Gilbert Money, the commissioner. Glad as the British may have been to get rid of a formidable enemy, it is doubtful whether Mr Money received the bleeding gift with much gratification. The Rajah of Powayne, however, had long been an object of suspicion, on account of his unfeeling conduct towards some of the poor fugitives in the early days of the Revolt; and as the British cause was now obviously the winning cause, he was anxious, by his alacrity in dealing with the dead body of the Moulvie, to win favour with the authorities. A very large reward had been offered by the government to whoever could capture the Moulvie; and although some doubt was expressed whether this was intended to apply as well to the bleeding corpse as to the living man, the reward was paid to the Powayne chieftain.

It was unquestionably a great gain to the British to know that the Moulvie was really removed from the field of strife. As to the Begum, she still remained unsubdued, moving from place to place according as she could gather a large body of adherents around her. It was about the second week in June, so far as is rendered apparent by the correspondence, that she received Jung Bahadoor’s very decisive rejection of the appeal made by her for his alliance, lately adverted to; and as she lost nearly at the same time her able coadjutor the Moulvie, her prospects became more gloomy. Of Nena Sahib, little more could be said than that he was true to his character—a coward in all things. Where he was at any particular time, the British seldom certainly knew: he had not the courage of the Moulvie, or the Begum, or the Ranee.

In connection rather with the province of Goruckpore than with that of Oude, though nearly on the boundary-line between the two, must be mentioned two encounters in which the naval brigade honourably distinguished itself. The Shannon’s seamen, it will be remembered, supplied a naval brigade under the lamented Captain Sir William Peel, for service in Oude; but there was also another brigade furnished by the Pearl, of which Captain Sotheby was commander. During May and June, this brigade was associated with certain troops and marines in the maintenance of order on the Goruckpore frontier of Oude. While on detached service, Major Cox and Lieutenant Turnour came in contact with the enemy on the 9th of June. The lieutenant had under him two 12-pounder howitzers, a 24-pounder rocket-tube, and about fifty seamen of the Pearl’s crew; Lieutenant Pym had the control of about twenty marines from the same ship; while Major Cox, who commanded the whole detachment, had under him a small military force comprising two hundred men of the 13th light infantry, two troops of Madras cavalry, two troops of Bengal cavalry, and twenty Sikhs. It was altogether a singular medley of combatants. Having heard that Mahomed Hussein was occupying the neighbouring village of Amorha or Amorah in great force, Major Cox resolved to attack him. He divided his detachment into two parts, one headed by himself, and the other by Major Richardson. The seamen and marines were attached to Richardson’s party. Starting at two o’clock in the morning, they marched along the road leading through the village. When within a mile of Amorah, they received a heavy fire from the rebel skirmishers; these were immediately attacked and driven in by Pym and the marines; while the guns threw shot and shell on the main body. Attempting to retreat on the other flank, Cox met and frustrated them; and the result of the skirmish was a decisive abandonment of the village by the rebels. Nine days afterwards another force, similar in constitution but larger in numbers, comprising in its naval element about a hundred and ten seamen, set out from Captangunje to make another attack on Mahomed Hussein, who was posted with four thousand rebels at Hurreah, about eight miles off. On approaching near Hurreah, the enemy’s skirmishers were descried thrown across the river Gogra, screened in thick bamboo jungles, villages, topes of trees, and a dry nullah. British skirmishers were quickly sent on ahead, drove in the enemy, and waded the river after them up to their waists; the guns followed, and the enemy were driven from tope to tope, and from every place of concealment, and chased for four miles. The heat was tremendous; insomuch that seven hours’ marching, fighting, and pursuing nearly knocked up officers and men. Mahomed Hussein, however, was severely defeated, and this was deemed a sufficient reward for all the fatigues and privations. The Pearl’s naval brigade counted this as the tenth time in which it had been in action in nine months.

It may be here mentioned that an endeavour was made, towards the end of June, to estimate the number of thalookdars and other petty chieftains who were in arms against the British in the province of Oude; together with the amount of force at their disposal. The estimate was not wholly reliable, for the means of obtaining correct information were very deficient. The list published in some of the Bombay newspapers, professing to be the nearest attainable approach to the truth, included the names of about thirty-five ‘thalookdars,’ ‘rajahs,’ and ‘chuckladars,’ holding among them about twenty-five mud-forts, with nearly a hundred guns, and forty thousand armed retainers. The chief items in this curious list were—‘The three chuckladars Mahomed Hussein, Mehndee Hussein, and Shaik Padil Imam, have twenty-three guns and ten thousand men massed about Sultanpore; some occupying Saloun, ten kos from Roy Bareilly’—‘At Nain, within nine kos of Roy Bareilly, four thalookdars, named Juggernath Buksh, Bugwan Buksh, Bussunth Singh, and Juggernath (?), have collected eight guns and six thousand men’—‘Banie Madhao, thalookdar; at Sukerpore, a strong fort surrounded by jungle, a few kos from Roy Bareilly; nineteen guns and eight thousand men’—‘Rajah Ali Buksh Khan, at Moham, a small fort twenty-five kos east of Lucknow; five guns and fifteen hundred men.’ Most of the rebel gatherings here adverted to were in the region around Roy Bareilly, southeast of Lucknow.

But notwithstanding these high-sounding names and formidable numbers, the cause of regular government in Oude was gradually advancing. The rebels could no longer endanger; they could only annoy. Mr Montgomery, at Lucknow, intrusted with large powers by the governor-general, was gradually feeling his way. While Crommelin took charge of the immediate defence of that city, and Hope Grant was grappling with the rebels in the open field, Montgomery was employed in re-establishing the network of judicial and revenue organisation, as favourable opportunities arose. The Rajah of Kapoorthully, lately adverted to, undertook the defence of the region between the Bunnee and Cawnpore; while Hope Grant kept a vigilant eye on the centre of Oude. The astute and double-dealing Maun Singh was placed in a singular position. He was distrusted by both parties, because he would not openly side with one against the other. As the chieftain of Shahgunje, on the river Gogra, very near the eastern frontier of Oude, he would be formidable either as a friend or a foe. He had a fort, guns, and men at his command. There could be no question that for thirteen months he had been watching the progress of events, to determine in which balance to throw his sword; and it was equally evident that he was gradually recognising more and more the value of English friendship—as a consequence, he was bitterly disliked by the rebel leaders. Taking a view of the state of Oude generally during June, it is necessary to make a distinction between the earlier and the later days of the month. The former was much less favourable than the latter. It could not truthfully be said that the pacification proceeded rapidly. Injury was wrought by the party-tactics concerning the famous proclamation penned by Viscount Canning and condemned by the Earl of Ellenborough. The violent discussions arising out of that collision of opinion could not be wholly concealed from the natives of India. It cannot be doubted that many of the reckless and unscrupulous speeches made in the British parliament became known to, and cherished by, the insurgent chieftains. When a halo of suffering virtue was thrown around the Oudian royal family, and when the Queen of England’s viceroy in India was spoken of almost as a murderer and robber, the power of the government became necessarily shaken, and the difficulties of pacification increased. The proclamation was modified; nay, Mr Montgomery received discretionary powers to determine whether, and when, and where there should be a proclamation at all—the governor-general wisely leaving it to his sagacity to be guided by the circumstance of time and place. At the beginning of June little had been effected towards winning the submission of the malcontent thalookdars and chuckladars; the hopes of successful rebellion had not been sufficiently damped. Nevertheless, as the month advanced, and when the Moulvie was dead and the Gwalior rebels beaten, the Oudian landowners, by ones and twos, began to look out for a compromise, which might enable them safely to abandon a losing cause. One of the most embarrassing difficulties perhaps was this—that the rebel leaders made instant war against any thalookdars or chuckladars who gave in their submission to the British government under the modified proclamation—thereby deterring the more timid landowners from the adoption of this course. Maun Singh himself was besieged by an insurgent force; but his means of resistance were considerable.

One of the evidences afforded that the pacification of Oude was considered to be gradually approaching, was the disbandment of the corps of Volunteer Cavalry, which was composed almost wholly of officers and gentlemen, and which had rendered such eminent services at a time when European troops were doubly precious from their extreme rarity. In a notification issued at Calcutta, Viscount Canning, after mentioning some of the arrangements connected with the disbanding, thus spoke of the services of the corps: ‘The Volunteer Cavalry took a prominent part in all the successes which marked the advance of the late Major-general Sir Henry Havelock from Allahabad to Lucknow; and on every occasion of its employment against the rebels—whether on the advance to Lucknow, or as part of the force with which Major-general Sir James Outram held Alum Bagh—this corps has greatly distinguished itself by its gallantry in action, and by its fortitude and endurance under great exposure and fatigue. The governor-general offers to Major Barrow, who ably commanded the Volunteer Cavalry, and boldly led them in all the operations in which they were engaged, his most cordial acknowledgments for his very valuable services: and to Captain Lynch, and all the officers and men who composed this corps, his lordship tenders his best thanks for the eminent good conduct and exemplary courage which they displayed during the whole time that the corps was embodied.’ The farewell of Sir James Outram was more hearty, because less official.^[181]

Directing our attention next to the Doab and Rohilcund, it becomes at once apparent that organisation and systematic government made great advances during the month of June. The Doab no longer contained any large body of armed rebels. There were numerous smaller bands, but these bands chiefly made use of the Doab as a route of passage. The hopes of the rebel leaders were directed mainly towards two regions—Oude, on the north of the Ganges; and Central India, on the south of the Jumna. According as the fortunes of war (or rather depredation) tended in the one direction or the other, so did groups of armed insurgents cross, or attempt to cross, those rivers by means of the ghâts or ferries. If the chances for rebel success appeared stronger at Lucknow or Fyzabad, Bareilly or Shahjehanpoor, this current tended northward, or rather northeastward: if Calpee or Jhansi, Gwalior or Jeypoor, excited the hopes of the insurgents, the current took an opposite direction. The Doab, in either case, was regarded rather as a line of transit than as a field of contest. Sir Colin Campbell, well acquainted with this fact, devoted a portion of his attention to the ghâts on the two great rivers. It became very important to check if possible the marching and countermarching of the rebels across the Doab; and several columns and detachments of troops were engaged in this duty during the month now under notice. The success of the few actual encounters depended very much on the course of events in Scindia’s dominions, narrated in the last chapter. When Gwalior fell into the hands of Tanteea Topee and his associates, all the turbulent chieftains in the surrounding districts displayed an audacity and hopefulness which they had not exhibited during the preceding month; but when Sir Hugh Rose reconquered that city, and replaced Scindia on his throne, timidity succeeded to audacity, misgiving to hopefulness.

The commander-in-chief, after his participation in the reconquest and pacification of Rohilcund, returned to his former quarters at Futteghur, where he remained until the second week in June. Throughout the month he was personally engaged in no hostilities; he was occupied either in studying how to give his heat-worn soldiers repose, or how best to employ those whose services in the field were still indispensable. The governor-general much desired his presence at Allahabad, to confer with him personally on the military arrangements necessary during the summer and autumn. It afforded a significant proof of the scattered position of the British forces, that during the first week in June there were no soldiers that could be spared to escort Sir Colin from Futteghur to Allahabad. Quiet as the Doab was, compared with its condition earlier in the year, there were still rebel bands occasionally crossing and recrossing it, and these bands would have hazarded much to capture a prize so important as the commander-in-chief of the Anglo-Indian army. He could not safely move without an escort, and he had to delay his journey until a few troops came in from Shahjehanpoor and other stations. While at Futteghur he caused a search to be made in the bazaars of that place and Furruckabad for sulphur, in order that any stores of that substance might be seized by and for the government. The rebels of the various provinces still possessed many guns; the chieftains and landowners still owned more weapons of various kinds than they chose to acknowledge to the government; there was iron for the making of cannon-balls; there were charcoal and saltpetre towards the making of gunpowder; but there was one ingredient, sulphur, without which all the firearms of the insurgents would be useless; and as sulphur was an imported article in India, the government made attempts to obtain possession of any stores of that substance that might be in doubtful hands. Percussion-caps, too, were becoming scarce among the rebels; and, the materials and machinery for making more being wanting, they were perforce superseded by the less effective matchlock.

The state of the Doab at that time is well told in connection with a journey made by Mr Russell. After the Rohilcund campaign was over, this active journalist looked about him to determine what was best worth seeing and describing, in reference to his special duties. If he went with or after Sir Colin to Allahabad, he would get to the head-quarters of politics, where very few stirring military operations were to be witnessed; if he went northeast into Oude, or southwest into Central India, he might, after much danger and difficulty, become involved in the movements of some flying column, ill assorting with the necessities of a lame man—for he still suffered from an injury by a kick from a horse. Mr Russell therefore resolved upon a journey through the Upper Doab from Futteghur to Delhi, and thence by Umballa to the healthy hill-station of Simla. He travelled by Bhowgong, Eytah, Gosaigunje, and Allygurh, meeting with ample evidence on the way of the ruin resulting from thirteen months of anarchy. Of the dâk bungalows or stations he says: ‘Let no one understand by this a pleasant roadside hostelry with large out-offices, spacious court-yard, teams of horses, and hissing ostlers; rather let him see a mud-hovel by the way, standing out, the only elevation in the dead level of baked earth, a few trees under which are tethered some wretched horses, and a group of men’—whose dress consisted of little beyond a turban. From Bhowgong to Eytah the country looked like a desert; and by the roadside, at intervals of ten miles or less, were thannahs or police-stations—small one-storied houses, bearing traces of the destructiveness of the rebel leader which had so often swept the district. He crossed the Kallee Nuddee at a point where the Company had never yet introduced the civilised agency of a regular bridge. The gharry was pushed and dragged down a shelving bank of loose sand, and then over a rickety creaky bridge of boats—the native attendants making much use of the primitive distended bladders and earthen jars as floating supporters. Arrived at Eytah, he found the place little other than a heap of blackened ruins, with enclosures broken down and trees lopped off at the stem. Yet here were three Englishmen, civil servants of the Company, engaged in re-establishing the machinery of regular government. Mr Russell, like every one else, tried all the varieties of language to express adequately the tremendous heat of an Indian June. He left Eytah at two in the afternoon. ‘The gharry was like an oven; the metal-work burning so that it could not be borne in contact with the hand for an instant. The wind reminded me of the deadly blast which swept over us on the march to Futteghur that dreadful morning when we left Rohilcund. Not a tree to shade the road; on each side a parched, dull, dun-coloured plain, with the waving heat-lines dancing up and down over its blighted surface; and whirling dust-storms or “devils,” as they are called, careering to and fro as if in demoniac glee in their own infernal region. On such a day as this Lake’s men (half a century earlier) fell file after file on their dreadful journey. Could I have found shelter, I would gladly have stopped, for even the natives suffered, and the horses were quite done up; but in India, in peace and war, one’s motto must be “No backward step!”—so on we went.’ After passing through many small towns and poor villages, in which half the houses were either ruined or shut up, he reached Allygurh, where, ‘being late, there was nothing ready at the bungalow but mosquitoes.’ Pursuing his journey, he at length reached Delhi.

The imperial city was now wholly and safely under British control. Sentries guarded the bridge of boats over the Jumna, allowing no native to pass without scrutiny; the fort of the Selimgurh was garrisoned by a small but trusty detachment. The plan, once contemplated, of destroying the defences, had not been adopted; the majestic wall, though shattered and ball-pierced in parts, remained in other respects entire. The defences were, altogether, calculated to strike a stranger with surprise, at the height and solidity of the wall, the formidable nature of the bastions, the depth and width of the dry ditch, the completeness of the glacis, and the security of such of the gates as had not been battered down or blown in. Some of the streets of the city had escaped the havoc of war; but others exhibited the effects of bombardment and assault in a terrible degree, although nine months of peaceful occupation had intervened; houses pitted with marks of shot and bullet, public buildings shattered and half in ruins, trees by the wayside split and rent, doors and windows splintered, gables torn out of houses, jagged holes completely through the walls. Half the houses in the city were shut; and the other half had not yet regained their regular steady inhabitants. The mighty palace of the Moguls was nearly as grand as ever on the outside; but all within displayed a wreck of oriental splendour. The exquisite Dewani Khas, when Mr Russell was there, instead of being filled with turbaned and bejewelled rajahs, Mogul guards, and oriental magnificence, as in the olden days, was occupied by British infantry—infantry, too, engaged in the humblest of barrack domestic duties. ‘From pillar to pillar and column to column extended the graceful arches of the clothes-line, with shirts and socks and drawers flaunting in the air in lieu of silken banners. Long lines of charpoys or bedsteads stretched from one end of the hall to the other—arms were piled against the columns—pouches, belts, and bayonets depended from the walls; and in the place where once blazed the fabulous glories of the peacock’s throne, reclined a private of her Majesty’s 61st, of a very Milesian type of countenance.’