Volunteering in India/Chapter 15
CHAPTER XV.
Oudh — lying about the centre of the great sub-Himalaya valley, and watered by such magnificent rivers as the Ganges and Ghagra, as well as by many smaller though navigable streams — was regarded by the Brahmanical tribes, from time immemorial, as the granary and garden of Hindustan.
The extraordinary fertility of its soil; its vast pastoral and agricultural resources; its beautiful rural districts; its majestic forests; its handsome capital city (Luknow ranked next to the imperial city of Delhi); its splendid temples; its great traditions, like those appertaining to Bhinswara; its ancient memorials, like Ajudya, the birthplace of the far-famed Rama, whose name is the Hindu’s Bond of Brotherhood over the whole of Hindiistan; its grand martial race of men, like the Bhinswara Rajputs — all combined to make its proud and warlike people reverence the region as a “paradise,” in which lay their homes, and the heritage of their offspring.
Notwithstanding, therefore, all that was urged to the contrary by interested “outsiders,” the annexation of Oudh took its population by surprise; and from the hour in which this superb kingdom unjustifiably passed into the possession of the East India Company, it awoke from the slumber of ages, and became a mine of sedition, only requiring time to burst into flames of a sanguinary revolution, and from that day onwards its aroused Hindus and Mahomedans abided an opportunity to rise up against, and drive out the white interloper.
That this feeling rankled in the hearts of the people was manifested by the tumult caused in Oudh by a patriotic Mahomedan, named Fuzul Ali, who attempted to bring on an insurrection some six months before the Sepoy Army rose in mutiny. And mark — yes, mark, reader — these very same Sepoys were the men who hunted down this insurgent leader, and brought him to the gallows.
By the summary termination of Fuzul Ali’s abortive attempt at revolution, the insurrectionary movement temporarily subsided — not, however, for want of sympathy with its cause, but because it was premature; the agitation being merely a convulsive start of the active volcano, which subsequently burst out so fiercely and blazed so high. This agitation, however, would unquestionably have vanished, as soon as the people became reconciled to the novel state of things under the new Government; but before the wounds caused by the seizure of their beloved country had healed, a new cartridge, from a concurrence of phenomenal circumstances, was “introduced” to the Bengal Sepoys; while, at the same time, this very cartridge actually became an irresistible weapon in the hands of the discontented and designing Mahomedans of Oudh, who at once discovered in it an instrument to aid them in striking a blow for regaining the kingdom, and they hoped to succeed in the attempt by working through its powerful influence on the caste superstitions of the native army.
From their compatriots, of course, they naturally anticipated unanimous support; for they were aware that the whole population was exasperated by the annexation, and smarting in common with themselves under a cruel injustice, perpetrated in the peremptory confiscation of their cherished ancestral lands — lands of their birth, and to their notions steeped in honey and superior to all others in the world. Accordingly no time was lost in setting a gigantic conspiracy actively on foot.
In the infernal plot that was to create and ripen disloyal combination among the Sepoys, and produce the awful tragedies at which the civilised world stood aghast, Oudh, primarily, should be represented, figuratively speaking, as a charged mine, ready for explosion, and the greased cartridge, secondarily, as a lighted match in the hands of the Sepoy Army — a match which, at the appointed time, was so effectually applied that, while it blew up the mine and shattered Oudh to atoms, it also convulsed the whole of Upper India, and shook the very foundations of the Empire itself.
Shortly, therefore, after the appearance of the greased cartridge upon the tragical stage, and not many months after the annexation, emissaries went out from Oudh into the North-West Provinces, and surreptitiously predicted that an appalling calamity was close at hand: that an unclean cartridge, greased with swine’s and cow’s fat, had been distributed among the Sepoys with the object of converting them to Christianity; and that before long the whole population would be forced — if need be, at the point of the bayonet — to follow the example of their brethren-in-arms, as a matter of course! What wonder, then, that this atrocious “prophecy,” so to call it, had the effect of spreading alarm, like wildfire, throughout Upper India; and that consequently, in their credulity, thousands and tens of thousands of ignorant victims became thoroughly imbued with hatred to the Government! Indeed, within the memory of that phenomenal and venerable authority, the “oldest inhabitant,” never were the natives of the North-West Provinces in so great a paroxysm of fear; and this fear, in an intensified form, ultimately extended to the Sepoys themselves, with the terrible results known to the civilised world. By way, too, of giving plausibility to the “prophecy,” and for purposes as obvious as they were mischievous, unleavened cakes (chupaties), alleged to have been made by Christians, were sedulously circulated among the Hindu villages throughout Upper India. Naturally, therefore, this infamous treachery, preying as it did in a direct manner upon the caste bigotry or fanaticism of a superstitious people, also created a profound impression in their minds. Confidence in the Government was gone, while distrust and apprehension took its place instead. And the numerous tribes, according to their several characters, were influenced by seditious excitement, or paralysed by their belief in the awful doom with which they were threatened!
But even at this critical juncture of affairs nothing could have severed the Sepoys from their allegiance to the Government — that is to say, in their own phraseology, they were “true to their salt”; and, with Hindus, this expression implies irrevocable and unswerving fidelity to duty on behalf of those whom they may be serving. And yet, when the Mutiny burst out like a sudden conflagration, and startled India, one of the most popular beliefs about it, and one which has been fostered by many writers, was that it had been brewing and in a state of fermentation for years, and that it was an organised and premeditated rebellion; whereas the revelation of the following facts opposes this fallacious theory, and renders it not only visionary, but stamps the revolt in its suddenness as unpremeditated, and in its alleged “organisation” as the strangest that ever took place. For when a whole army — composed of sappers, artillery, cavalry, and infantry — divides, and subdivides itself, and flocks in thousands, some to Delhi, some to Luknow, some to caste leaders or territorial chiefs, and some again to their peaceful rural homes, where, it may be asked, is the “organisation,” or premeditation discernible in this veritable phenomenal movement, which actually occurred? Besides, had the revolt been premeditated, or in a state of incubation, so to speak, would it not have been hatched a year or so earlier, when England was engaged in a stupendous struggle with Russia, and when in consequence India itself had been denuded of European troops for service in the Crimea — to say nothing of the war with Persia, which had just been brought to a successful conclusion, and English regiments were returning thence to India? Then, again, where were the good and faithful domestic servants, of whom hundreds were related by kindred ties to the Sepoys themselves? Would not they have heard some allusions to, or whispers of, the approaching evil days, and sounded warnings of the coming disasters? — disasters under which they themselves reeled, and were struck dumb, while at the risk of their own lives saving those of many Europeans.
It must be borne in mind that I am recording Sunker Tewāre's sentiments in saying, that if ever an army mutinied without premeditation, that army belonged to Bengal; and how far the Mutiny was unpremeditated, I will endeavour to substantiate in another page further on.
Moreover, it must ever be remembered to the credit of these very same Sepoys that, only a few months before they rose in mutiny, they were actually hunting down to the death, or bringing to the scaffold so-called “rebels,” or by whatever name one may designate men whose patriotism forced them to resist an unwarrantable confiscation of their homes in Oudh.
Perhaps, therefore, it will not surprise the reader to be told that Sunker Tewāre stated, as a solemn matter of fact, that the Sepoys, taking them all together, were never disloyal until, suddenly seized by a superstitious panic, and in consequence becoming literally mad, they rushed headlong, like a crowd of frenzied demons, into an ever-lamentable rebellion — into which he, too, would have been dragged, in spite of himself, by caste fanaticism, had he been, as he affirmed, serving with, instead of a pensioner of, the army.
While the plot thickened, and Upper India simmered with treason, and the echo of the panic, which had broken out among the Sepoys, re-echoed in all the military cantonments of the Bengal Presidency, the infernal conspiracy, in which they were to act the part of the principal tragedians, had accomplished its designs so successfully that by this time their distracted minds could think of nothing else — of nothing else but of their castes hovering, as it were, on the very brink of eternal perdition! And who can gainsay the fact that the high-caste Hindu of the Bengal Army of those days held his caste more sacred than anything on earth, and not only adored and idolised it, but would rather have died than lost it? Indeed, it is quite within the truth to say that it would have been difficult to point to any people, in the civilised world, more deeply imbued with reverence for their own souls, than were those Sepoys for their castes.
But this was not all; for while perturbed as they were at this momentous period by irritating doubt and fear, shoals of rustic letters, carefully detailing all particulars concerning the predictions that were in circulation, began to arrive among them from their rural homes. And these letters, while full of earnest exhortations, strikingly illustrated the danger to which they were exposed by the wicked and foul machinations of the authorities, and forcibly reminded them that if they were once defiled by the unclean cartridge, ex-communication from caste and brotherhood, and banishment from home and family, would be their irredeemable lot for ever. Here, then, was the climax in the conspiracy; for the greased cartridge was actually in their hands, and the solenm warning from their homes already too late.
Thus this incident, so sudden and appalling, drove them with horror and terror into a sort of bewildering panic. And panic is one of the most cruel of all manias; it is, moreover, infectious, and men under its influence are to all intents and purposes madmen. For instance, in the early days of the Mutiny even Englishmen exhibited aberration of mind to such an absurd extent that hundreds, actually in Calcutta itself, and at many other stations, “performed” a general and discreditable stampede to places of refuge, when there was really no cause for alarm. So, too, through the influence of a groundless panic, commenced a mutiny the like of which the world never saw, and by which an almost incomparably magnificent Empire — the Koh-i-nūr of the world — the growth of more than a century, under the fostering care of some of England’s most noble sons, was literally crumbling into dust and ruins in less than a day.
Here a member of our picket interrupted Sunker Tewāre by asking the reason for the symptoms of the Mutiny appearing first in those cantonments nearest to Calcutta, and thus, as it were, in the face of a vast European population, a strong force of English soldiers, an overwhelming number of sailors belonging to the shipping; and also while no sign of disloyalty had appeared among the Sepoys in the military stations of the Upper Provinces. His answer to this question was to the effect that, although the initial step in the direction of a mutinous movement was taken by the Sepoys stationed adjacent to Calcutta, that initial step was accidental, insomuch that when the mutiny occurred there, every regiment in the Bengal Presidency was, more or less, already disloyal, and in consequence the initial outbreak might have happened at any cantonment. But, as already stated, there being no defined, or preconcerted organisation in the movement, all the regiments, fearing to initiate the “move,” waited for each other to rise, and immediately the first successfully rose in open rebellion, the rest, “in Indian file,” like imitative sheep followed as a matter of course.
Meanwhile, alarmed at the threatening attitude now assumed by the misguided and deluded Sepoys stationed at Barrackpur and Bahgulpur, near Calcutta, the Government strenuously endeavoured, with reassuring proclamations and conciliatory explanations, to quiet and soothe their aroused feelings. Just as if they were now likely to believe a word of the authorities! Nay, more; they would no more have believed even the solemn oath of the East India Court of Directors, than the population of Upper India would have believed, after the annexation of Oudh, in the honesty, and veracity, of any Englishman; from the highest, to the lowest in the land.
Consequently every effort to pacify and conciliate these mercenary, pampered pets not only failed, but encouraged them to insult the authorities; and therefore, under a vague impression, no doubt, that so severe an example would tend to crush the crisis in its infancy, two of the conspicuously disloyal regiments were summarily disbanded. But this fatal act, instead of realising the desired effect, convincingly proved as efficacious in its results as fuel does to a rising fire: that is to say, for a brief interval it smothered the lighted furnace; and under the temporarily subdued flame, things seemingly relapsed once again into their former peacefulness. Still, a feeling of bewilderment was abroad, and confidence had been too violently shaken to return as suddenly as the quiet days that seemed now to prevail; besides, it was felt that this delusive calm, was the ominous premonitory sign of the coming hurricane; and so in reality it proved, by overwhelming Upper India without apparent manifestations in its approach.
The mutinous Sepoys of the disbanded regiments above alluded to, loosened from all restraint, and goaded with vindictive animosity, spread themselves over the length and breadth of the country, and on the way to their homes diligently proclaimed the immediate advent of evil times. Moreover, they took care, not only to exaggerate the state of things at the military stations from whence they had come, but to substantiate, as it were, the wild and seditious stories which were already implicitly believed by a vast community of the people.
All this while no Englishman in the Bengal Presidency would have believed that he, and his fellow-countrymen, were standing on a volcano about to engulf them within its flames. On the contrary, before the crack of doom was heard in Upper India, confidence and trust in the natives was felt to such an extent that all Europeans — men, women, and even children — travelled over the country without the slightest hesitation or fear; and wherever they went the people always greeted them most kindly, and with the greatest respect. Nor did the Government itself realise so grave a crisis as the near approach of a sanguinary and disastrous revolution; though it apparently seemed to hope that, in the extinction of the two mutinous regiments, the clouds which over-shadowed and darkened the Empire would soon pass away. And, doubtless, it was under the bane of this fatal infatuation, that a whole catalogue of melancholy blunders occurred at the commencement of the Mutiny.
Unfortunately that great, good man. Lord Canning, had but only just arrived in India, and succeeded to a legacy in the form of a rebellion, bequeathed to him by his predecessor in office, such as, in the history of mankind, no mortal man ever had to contend with. With his inexperience, therefore, he was in no way answerable for the amazing blunders that were committed in the early days of the Mutiny. But “Officialdom” was responsible for those blunders, because “Officialdom” had passed the principal part of its life among the men with whom it had to deal, and with whom it ought to have known how to deal — more especially with those Sepoys who happened to be in garrison stations with European troops. Their teeth should have been drawn, without any discrimination, on the very first symptom of disloyalty, in the very first regiment of the native army. Disbandment, as has been seen, did more harm than good. Disarming, although it would not have stopped the Mutiny, would doubtless have had the effect of postponing it, and so enabled the Government to gain time, and prepare for the coming storm.
But, what with vacillation, hesitation, red-tapeism, and the infatuated cry of the commanding officers against disarming their “loyal men,” the contagious rumour of successful rebellion flew over Upper India with the rapidity of electricity, until the culminating point in the Mutiny having at length been reached, the consequences may easily be conceived. From that moment the darkened clouds of the impending storm began to close in and gather to a head, till they burst with all the fury of an irresistible tempest, and deluged the land with torrents of blood.
The above summary of facts is founded on Sunker Tewāre's statement, recorded in my journal on the day he made it; and, by what he has stated, it is transparently clear that, although the greased cartridge was so powerful a factor that it destroyed the loyalty of the Sepoys, the annexation of Oudh was, without a shadow of doubt, primarily, and solely, the cause that originated the Mutiny, and led to a tragical catastrophe without a parallel in the history of the world.
Turning to Sunker Tewāre, I asked him whether his statement would be corroborated by the mutineers themselves, and whether he was sure that the Mutiny resulted really from panic.
“I'll stake my life upon it, it did. I have been a Sepoy long enough to know the thoughts and feelings of my brethren; besides,” he added, with a broken voice once more, as if the recollection of the recent events was too much for him, “the minds of the Sepoys had been wrought to such a pitch of furious excitement by treason giving vitality and expansion to the terrible belief of their bodies, and their souls, being on the very brink of defilement, and eternal destruction, that, maddened under contagious delirium of panic, they instantaneously plunged into a conspiracy of extermination; and, in the frenzy of despair, their very nature changed, and they became, what they never were before, cruel and in-human in their determination to destroy those, whom they were convinced were about to destroy them.”