Cawnpore & Lucknow Read online

  CAWNPORE

  AND

  LUCKNOW

  For my wife, Nancy

  CAWNPORE

  AND

  LUCKNOW

  A Tale of Two Sieges

  D.S. Richards

  First published in Great Britain in 2007 by

  PEN & SWORD MILITARY

  an imprint of

  Pen & Sword Books Ltd

  47 Church Street

  Barnsley

  South Yorkshire

  S70 2AS

  Copyright D.S. Richards, 2007

  ISBN 1-84415-516-1

  The right of D.S. Richards to be identified as the author of this work

  has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs

  and Patents Act 1988.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is

  available from the British Library

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  CONTENTS

  Dramatis Personae

  Introduction

  1 ‘The Favourites of Heaven’

  2 The Gathering Storm

  3 Misplaced Confidence

  4 The Storm Breaks

  5 Misplaced Hopes

  6 ‘Kuda-ki-Mirzee’

  7 The Bibigarh Massacre

  8 Retribution

  9 The Gwalior Contingent

  10 Battle for the Residency

  11 The March of Henry Havelock

  12 Enter Sir Colin Campbell

  13 The Fall of Lucknow

  14 The Demise of the Nana

  Select Bibliography

  Index

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  Lieutenant Gordon Alexander 93rd of Foot

  Captain R.F. Anderson 25th NI

  Captain George Atkinson 6th NI

  Mrs Katherine Mary Bartrum

  Major G.W.F. Bingham 64th of Foot

  Ensign George Blake 84th of Foot

  Mrs Corlina Maxwell Brydon

  Lady Charlotte Stuart Canning

  Mrs Adelaide Case

  Nanak Chand Banker’s Agent

  Lieutenant Henry George Delafosse 53rd NI

  Mrs Emma Sophia Ewart

  Colonel John Alexander Ewart 1st NI

  Corporal William Forbes-Mitchell 93rd of Foot

  Mrs Maria Vincent Germon

  Cornet Hugh Gough 3rd Light Cavalry

  Lieutenant William Groom Madras Fusiliers

  Mrs Georgina Maria Harris

  Mrs Lydia Hillersdon

  Miss Amelia Horne

  Mrs G. Huxham

  Lady The Hon. Julia Inglis

  Mr John Lang Barrister

  Miss Alice Lindsay

  Miss Caroline Lindsay

  Miss Fanny Lindsay

  Mrs Kate Lindsay

  Lieutenant Vivian Dering Majendie Royal Artillery

  Captain John Francis Maude VC Royal Artillery

  Corporal Henry Metcalfe 32nd of Foot

  Lieutenant Henry Martin Moorsom Rifle Brigade

  Surgeon William Munro 93rd of Foot

  Major Charles North 60th Rifles

  Subedar Sita Ram Pande Bengal Army Pensioner

  Ensign Hugh Pearson 84th of Foot

  Mr L.E.R. Rees Calcutta Merchant

  Lieutenant Frederick Sleigh Roberts

  VC Bengal Horse Artillery

  Ensign J. Ruggles 41st NI

  Mr William Howard Russell The Times Correspondent

  Mr William ‘Jonah’ Shepherd Head Clerk, Commissariat

  Mr John Sherer Magistrate and Collector

  Sergeant Ludlow Smith 48th NI

  Mrs Elizabeth Sneyd

  Mr William Oliver Swanston Civilian Volunteer

  Lieutenant Mowbray Thomson 53rd NI

  Cadet Edward Spencer Watson HMS Shannon

  INTRODUCTION

  On the last day of December 1600, Elizabeth I granted the ‘Company and Merchants of London trading with east India’ a charter enabling them to conduct business in gems, indigo, camphor and spices. Twelve years later, with the permission of the Moghul Emperor Jahangir, they were then able to set up a permanent trading post at Surat on the west coast. Thus Britain set foot in India as merchants and until the late eighteenth century the East India Company was content to prosper by ‘sea and in quiet trade’. The French had also established a number of trading stations in India, notably at Pondicherry and at Chandernagor in Bengal, and until 1730 relations between the two rival companies were reasonably peaceful. Later, increasing tension between France and England in Europe persuaded the French East India Company to enlist native soldiers to protect their interests. ‘John Company’ was quick to respond by raising a similar army and when war came, Robert Clive gained an impressive victory at Plassey in June 1757 over the combined forces of the French and the Nawab of Bengal, Suraj-ud-daula, and established the East India Company as the principal trader on the subcontinent.

  During the latter half of the century the East India Company, with the support of the British Government, extended its power and influence by assuming responsibility for the armies of the three presidencies of Bengal, Madras and Bombay. They were largely composed of native infantrymen or sepoys, and by cavalrymen known as sowars. Each regiment had its complement of native officers or jemadar, a rank equal to lieutenant, but all were subordinate to the most junior of British officers in the native regiments and were not even allowed to give orders to a British sergeant major. In addition to the Company’s native regiments, there were also British Army regiments stationed in India, but by 1856 the ratio of British soldiers to Indian, was no better than one in six.

  To the north-west of Bengal lay the Moghul kingdom of Oudh which had yet to feel the full impact of British rule, whilst further south, although the predominately Muslim faction had been brought under control, people nevertheless harboured a sullen resentment of the British. The many religions of India, together with the caste system, puzzled and appalled the average Englishman. The majority of Indians were Hindus and the caste system governed their entire social and emotional behaviour – unlike Islam whose followers embraced the Koran and looked upon Allah as being all powerful.

  It is perhaps not easy 150 years on to appreciate that the political, social and economic welfare of some 250 million souls was supervised by a few hundred young English administrators supported by less than 13,000 British troops. The precariousness of such an administration was recognized at the time by a few discerning individuals such as Sir Charles Metcalfe who wrote: ‘Our domination of India is by conquest; it is naturally disgusting to the inhabitants and can only be maintained by military force. It is our positive duty to render them justice, protect their rights, and to study their happiness.’ It was a difficult balance to maintain in the face of widespread resentment, and John Sherer, a magistrate in Cawnpore, had no doubt as to the malign in
fluence the Brahmins had on the Hindu soldiers. ‘The Brahmins have always been the inimical force which is discontented with British supremacy,’ he wrote. ‘Not because it is British, but because it is Western … because the political principles of the West are all opposed to any belief in caste – that is, caste as understood in India.’

  The last half of the nineteenth century also saw an Evangelical Revival in England, and influential Christians like William Wilberforce believed that Indian society would benefit from a total conversion by way of a Christian education. Unfortunately, the subsequent proselytizing of European missionaries was to have a grievous effect on subsequent events and must surely bear some responsibility for the Sepoy uprising.

  The Mutiny, when it occurred, developed into a savage cycle of senseless massacre and equally violent retribution, from which only the behaviour of the besieged women perhaps emerges with any credit. Their journals and letters reflect personal emotions and fears, but the courage shown is all the more remarkable in that the memsahibs had no part to play other than being supportive to their menfolk in the face of appalling violence, and to care and protect the children in the most horrific of circumstances. I have tried as far as possible to present the tale of the two sieges through the comments and experiences of the men and women most intimately involved, in the hope that the atmosphere so created will help the reader to picture not only the full horror of their situation, but also the punishment meted out to the mutineers. Some observations will undoubtedly appear racist to the present generation, but it should be remembered that the average Briton of that period held firm patriotic views and was proud of the British Empire. It does not excuse, of course, the fact that many Britons of the period were also of the opinion that the British race was superior to that of most other peoples.

  In acknowledging the assistance I have received in completing the narrative, I would particularly like to thank the staff of the India Office Library at Blackfriars and the National Army Museum at Chelsea, without whose excellent research facilities this book would not have been attempted.

  No work of military history would be complete without some illustrations of the period, and those that appear in this book have been reproduced by ‘Courtesy of the Council, National Army Museum’.

  I would also like to thank Constable & Robinson Ltd for their permission to use extracts from the Journal of the Siege of Lucknow by Maria Germon, published by Constable in 1958, an excellent publication which graphically records the discomfort and dangers faced by the besieged, especially the women. My thanks to the Orion Publishing Group as well for granting me permission to reproduce extracts from the very interesting Chronicles of Private Henry Metcalfe, originally published in 1953 by Cassell & Company, a division of the Orion Publishing Group.

  Finally, although every effort has been made to secure permission from persons holding copyright material, it is often difficult to locate such sources and the author apologizes in advance for any omission inadvertently made.

  Chapter 1

  ‘THE FAVOURITES OF HEAVEN’

  For the many British families residing in Northern India whose duties bound them to the military cantonments of Oude, a province noted for its oppressive climate, there had been few outward signs in the months leading up to the fateful year of 1857 to suggest that they were poised on the brink of a catastrophe.

  In October 1855, a new governor general had been appointed to succeed Lord Dalhousie in the task of governing the subcontinent, and it was Lord Charles John Canning’s hope that following Dalhousie’s controversial reforms, he would enjoy a period of peaceful calm. However, in a speech at a farewell dinner given for him by the Court of Directors before leaving for India, he admitted with commendable candour: ‘I wish for a peaceful term of office, but must not forget that in the sky of India, serene as it is, a small cloud may arise, at first no bigger than a man’s hand, but which growing larger and larger, may at last threaten to burst and overwhelm us with ruin.’

  Although the era was long past when an enterprising individual could embark upon a career as a clerk with the East India Company and return with a considerable fortune, the officers and covenanted civil servants nevertheless pursued an existence as comfortable as the rigours of duty in a hostile environment would allow. Well paid by European standards and far from overworked, the Company’s employees, both civil and military, were able to enjoy a lifestyle not dissimilar to that of an English country gentleman, at a fraction of the cost, with the added advantage of a host of servants to provide a degree of personal comfort unimaginable outside of India.

  Henry Addison, on his first night ashore in the house of a friend, was scarcely awake before the mosquito net around his bed was parted and he became aware of a native busily lathering his face preparatory to shaving him. ‘No wonder old Indians on their return to Europe fancy themselves sadly neglected by their domestics,’ commented an astonished Addison. ‘I shall however shut my door tomorrow morning, and insist on dressing myself.’ No doubt Henry Addison found the attentions of his friend’s servants tiresome, but in this he was not alone. British India’s First Lady, accustomed as she was to a large establishment of servants with the Queen at Windsor, found the constant presence of mute and deferential servants an aspect of Indian life difficult to live with. Lady Charlotte Stuart Canning confided to her diary:

  I am not sure that I do not regret creaking footmen. These gliding people come and stand by one and will wait an hour with their eye fixed on one, and their hands joined as if to say their prayers, if you do not see them – and one is quite startled to find them patiently waiting when one looks round. I have such scruples to giving them so many journeys up and down, and it’s indeed far pleasanter to have creaking footmen in livery.

  Lieutenant Vivian Majendie, himself a relative newcomer to India, found like those before him, attendance upon the individual to be a little overwhelming. He wrote:

  There are few things more striking to a person just landed, than the native servants who, to use an un-classical expression, walk ‘quite promiscuous like’ in and out of one’s room all day, noiselessly, certainly, for there are no shoes on their dusky feet to creak and disturb you, but the very presence of these white clad figures flitting about one prevented me for some time from feeling that placid sensation of ‘at home’ and retirement which every man at times must long for.

  At that time, servants in India were obligatory for even the most junior administrator, and although wages were low, since each servant was forbidden by his caste to do another’s work, the size of staff considered necessary for even a modest establishment surprised many a newcomer unfamiliar with the practice. Henry Addison’s friend advised:

  A sirdar or principal servant to look after your clothes; a kit-mutgar to wait behind your chair; a hooker burder to take care of your hooker … eight bearers to carry you in your palanquin, a peon to convey your notes and messages, a dhobee, a durzee (tailor), a bheestee (water carrier), a bobachee (cook), three syces to take care of your three horses, a grass cutter to supply them with hay … and a moonshee (interpreter) as long as you are ignorant of the language.

  Poor Addison, once he had recovered from his astonishment, could only gasp, ‘Then I’ll be shot if I shan’t be ruined.’

  With the approach of the hot weather season most families made haste to exchange the sweltering heat of the central plains for the relatively cool and bracing climate of a hill station such as Simla, 7,000 feet above sea level, Mussoorie, or Darjeeling. There, in comfortable stone bungalows built in the ‘Swiss cottage’ style, the wives at least could profit from a welcome break until the monsoon brought a temporary halt to the rising temperature on the plains. For those obliged to remain in cantonments, there was little to do but seek refuge behind drawn blinds, gaze listlessly out over a compound swept by clouds of grit and dust, and idly watch the thermometer gradually climb to an energy sapping 120°F in the shade.

  Writing from Cawnpore in April, Surgeon Francis Collins could
complain with some justification that ‘The wind blows hotter every day, it is impossible to stir out with safety between 8.00 am and 6.00 pm. The very birds disappear at 9.00 am and we see nothing more of them till sunset … In the morning we see them with their beaks wide open panting for breath.’ In a climate such as this, the practice of over-indulgence at meals by some may well have eased the path to promotion for others in both military and civil circles, by lowering their resistance to the many virulent fevers common to India.

  One such dinner, which even by Victorian standards seems to have been a massive affair, was attended by William Howard Russell, the correspondent of The Times, who found:

  the incense of savoury meats hanging about like a fog. The soup is served, as it only can be in India – hot as the sun, thick with bones and meat – a veritable warm jelly. Then comes the fish – roach, or some cognate Cyprinus, hateful to me as Ganges fed; then joints of grain fed mutton, commissariat beef, curries of fish, fowl, and mutton, stews and ragouts, sweets of an intensely saccharine character, with sherry, beer, and soda water, and now and then a pop of Simpkin or champagne.

  A chaplain in the service of the East India Company remembered both the delights and the discomforts of the occasion:

  There was a blaze of uniforms, most of the ladies looked pale. A hot climate and late hours soon bleach the English complexion. At such a gathering in such weather as this, one is oppressed with the misery of woollen clothes. It would move your compassion to see men buttoned up to the chin in tight fitting scarlet or blue coats, and melting away like snowballs at a kitchen fire.

  There was precious little relief to be had when having excused himself, the diner could retire to his bungalow for a fitful sleep – not without the risk of an encounter with a snake or a scorpion. ‘We gaze at the punkha,’ wrote Captain George Atkinson, ‘we simmer and accidentally fall asleep just as it is the hour to get up.’ Only in the relative cool of the evening, when he rose and dressed for the obligatory ride, was Atkinson released from what he described as ‘a captivity enforced by the bars and fetters of a scorching sun and the blasts of a fiery furnace’.