'In the history of sieges,' I wrote in a work published at the time,[1] and which correctly recorded all the impressions of the hour, 'that of Dehlí will ever take a prominent place. Its strength, its resources, and the prestige attached to it in the native mind, combined to render formidable that citadel of Hindustán. Reasonably might the Northern Bee or the Invalide Russe question our ability to suppress this rebellion if they drew their conclusions from the numerical strength of the little band that first sat down before Dehlí. But the spirit that animated that handful of soldiers was not simply the emulative bravery of the military proletarian. The cries of helpless women and children, ruthlessly butchered, had gone home to the heart of every individual soldier, and made this cause his own. There was not an Englishman in those ranks, from first to last, who would have consented to turn his back on Dehlí without having assisted in meting out to those bloody rebels the retributive justice awarded them by his own conscience, his country, and his God. It was this spirit that buoyed them up through all the hardships of the siege; that enabled them, for four long months of dreary rain and deadly heat, to face disease, privation, and death without a murmur'
The siege was indeed calculated to bring out all the great qualities which distinguish the British soldier.
- ↑ The Red Pamphlet, published in 1857.
Duke Bernhard of Weimar, Banner, Cortez, Maurice of Saxony, Nelson, Clive, John de Medici, Luther, Ignatius Loyola, John Wesley, and Pascal. 'Pascal,' he continues, 'wrote a great work at sixteen, and died at thirty-seven.' Then, 'Ah! that fatal thirty-seven, which reminds me of Byron.' He shows, further, how Raphael died at thirty-seven; and, still supporting his argument that 'genius, when young, is divine,' brings forward the names of Richelieu, Bolingbroke, Pitt, Grotius, and Acquaviva. To this long list, Nicholson, the greatest by far of all the Panjáb school, might most properly be added.
