# The Indian Mutiny of 1857/Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX.
THE MARCH TO DEHLÍ.
The Commander-in-Chief in India, General George Anson, though he had had but a slight experience of the Bengal sipáhí, possessed in an eminent degree the gift of common sense. If he did not penetrate the mysteries which baffled men who had been trained in India, and who had spent their lives with the sipáhís, no blame can on that account attach to him. He was conscientious, painstaking, self-sacrificing, and gave to the work which had been entrusted to him all his time and all his capacity. In intellectual ability he towered above the men who surrounded him.
The summer headquarters of the army were at the pleasant hill-station of Simla. Thither General Anson was progressing in the third month of 1857, inspecting troops and stations as he marched. Early in that month he had reached Ambálah, fifty-five miles north of Karnál, and thirty-seven from Kálka, immediately at the foot of the Himaláyan range. At Ambálah was one of the depôts of instruction in the use of the new rifle. Now, although no greased cartridges had been served out to the men, the instructors in the new drill had noticed a general feeling of alarm and suspicion pervading their minds, not only as to the nature of the grease, but as to the materials of which the ungreased paper wrapped round the cartridges was composed. The matter came to the knowledge of General Anson. A circumstance, ​slight in itself, convinced him that the suspicions of the men, unless removed, might lead to great danger. Accordingly, on the 23d of the month, he inspected the instruction depôt, and after the inspection he summoned round him the native officers, and, assisted by the instructor. Lieutenant Martineau, an officer of great intelligence, who spoke the language like a native, and who translated to the native officers each sentence of the Commander-in-Chief as it was uttered, addressed them frankly and sensibly on the subject of the new rifle. He told them that great improvements had been made of recent years in the manufacture of small-arms, and that it was with the view of placing in the hands of the sipáhí a superior weapon that detachments from several regiments had been sent to Ambálah for instruction; that the improved weapon required improved cartridges; that it was madness to suppose that the British Government, which had no designs whatever on the religion of the people, should take advantage of the improvement of the cartridge to endeavour to subvert their caste by a fraud; that the Government of India would never countenance any scheme which would coerce the Hindu or the Muhammadan in the matter of religion. In the case before him, neither caste nor religion was involved; but another thing was, and that was discipline. That discipline he was resolved to maintain, and he trusted that the native officers present would exert themselves to allay the fears of their men, would caution them not to give credit to the insinuations of designing persons, and would thus avert the shame which would overwhelm those who should prove false to their colours and faithless to the oaths they had taken to the Government.
It was a new thing in the history of the Bengal army to see the Commander-in-Chief condescending to explain ​the action of the Government, and the reasons for that action, to a large number of regimental native officers. That the native officers present were touched by General Anson's act cannot be doubted. They listened respectfully, and, when the meeting was over, they expressed to Martineau their high sense of the goodness of the Commander-in-Chief, and of the honour he had done them. 'But,' they added, 'it is not a mere question to us of obedience or disobedience. The story has been so generally circulated, and is so generally believed, not only by the sipáhís but by their relations and by villagers all over the country, that the sipáhís cannot use the cartridges without incurring the certainty of social degradation, the consequence of their loss of caste.' They begged Martineau to represent this fact to the Commander-in-Chief. Martineau did so, and General Anson, who recognised more plainly than anyone about him the dangers staring him in the face, suspended the issue of the new cartridges until a special report should have been prepared of the composition of the paper with which they were wrapped.
The secret agents of the vast conspiracy hatched by the Maulaví of Faizábád and his associates had by this time done their work so thoroughly, had roused to a pitch of pent-up madness of which an oriental people are alone capable, the feelings of the sipáhís and the population of the North-western Provinces generally, that it is improbable that, if the Government had even gone the length of withdrawing absolutely the new musket, and the new cartridge with it, the plague would have been stayed. The attempt of General Anson in that direction was undoubtedly the best thing to be done. But, unhappily, his scheme was not given a chance. Lord Canning and his advisers wrote to say that they would ​regard any postponement of the target practice at the drill depôts as a concession to unreasonable fears. No violation of caste would be caused by the use of the cartridges, therefore the drill must be persisted in. The main offence of the 19th N. I. had been the refusal to take the cartridges. For that they had been punished, and it would be inconsistent with discipline to go back on the resolution then taken. Despite, then, the consequences clearly shadowed forth by the assembled native officers to Martineau, the drill instruction was continued.
In due time General Anson continued his journey to Simla. He was there when the report reached him of the behaviour of the eighty-five troopers of the 3d N. L. C. at Mírath, already described. The Commander-in-Chief considered their offence so serious that he directed they should be brought to trial before a court composed of their own countrymen. How they were tried, how condemned, how lodged in confinement, has been already told. It has been told, also, how the vindication of discipline led immediately to the revolt of Mírath and the uprising of Dehlí.
The news of this double catastrophe reached General Anson in a bleared and imperfect form on the afternoon of the 12th. His clear and practical mind recognised that immediate action was necessary. He had three English regiments near him, on three different spurs of the Himaláyas. To that on the spur nearest to the plains, the 75th Foot, at Kasáuli, he sent orders to march immediately for Ambálah. To the two others, the 1st Fusiliers and the 2d Europeans, at Dagshai and Sabáthu respectively, he transmitted orders to hold themselves in readiness to march at a moment's notice. Simultaneously he sent expresses to desire that the fort at Fíruzpur should be secured by the 61st, and that at Govindgarh by the 81st, ​and to order two companies of the 8th Foot, from Jálandhar, to secure Philáur on the Satlaj. Bethinking then of the other means available to him, he ordered a Gurkhá regiment, known as the Nasírí battalion, stationed close to Simla, to march, with a detachment of the 9th Irregular Cavalry, to that important point (Philáur), in order to escort thence the siege-train which, he recognised at a glance, would be necessary for the operations he contemplated against Dehlí. On the afternoon of the 14th he started for Ambálah himself, and reached it early the following morning. He, at least, had lost no time.
But it was there that his difficulties commenced. He found the sipáhís of the native regiments there ready to break out in revolt. With the English force at his disposal he could easily have disarmed them, and that course was pressed upon him by Sir John Lawrence. It seemed so natural that he should do so. He could not take mutinous regiments with him. Still less could he leave them at Ambálah, unwatched, to perpetrate untold mischief in his rear. But General Anson was conscious that his own local experience was limited whilst he was surrounded by men who professed to understand the natives amongst whom their lives had been spent. These men protested that the disbanding of the sipáhís would be regarded as a breach of faith. The argument was absurd, but it was accepted.
Another misfortune came at this moment to render the situation more involved. The Gurkhás of the Nasírí battalion, when ordered to march to Philáur, refused point-blank, and made as though they would plunder Simla. The residents there were terribly frightened, and some of those who should have given an example of courage and daring betrayed a strong capacity for leading the way in pusillanimous flight. The fears, fortunately, ​proved unfounded. The Gurkhás of the Nasírí battalion were quickly satisfied, returned to their duty, and marched gaily for Philáur.
Meanwhile, at Ambálah, General Anson began to realise every day more keenly that the means at his hand for the recapture of a strong fortress, garrisoned by a superior number of disciplined troops, were very insufficient. Not only were his European troops few in numbers, but the several war departments — the Commissariat, the Medical, the Transport, the Ordnance, and Ammunition — taken by surprise, were unprepared for a prompt movement. On the 18th of May the men had no tents, but twenty rounds apiece of ammunition, no artillery reserve ammunition, no transport. Under these circumstances. General Anson doubted whether it would be prudent with his small means to risk an attack on Dehlí. He wrote in this sense to Sir John Lawrence, expressing not only his own opinion but that of the chief officers of his staff. The Commissary-General, he added, declared his inability to provide the wherewithal for such a march under from sixteen to twenty days. These views, backed as they were by the highest military authorities on the spot, found no acceptance either with Sir John Lawrence, with Lord Canning, or with the self-constituted critics in other parts of India. The idea widely prevailed that, because Delhí had never, in the history of India, offered a serious resistance to an armed force, it would not and could not do so now. There was absolutely no reason for this argument beyond that suggested by the notion that that which had happened before must always happen again. There was, I have already mentioned, a very indistinct idea in military circles as to the defensive power of the Imperial city. Everyone knew that it was encompassed ​by walls. But, it was argued, with the superficiality which was one of the signs of the times, that siege-guns were cast in order that they might batter down walls. The man would have been laughed at who should have asserted that Dehlí was as strong as Bhartpur had been. It was expected, alike in Calcutta and in the Panjáb, that General Anson had but to appear with his British force before Dehlí to induce the rebels to surrender the city. I write with the most absolute certainty when I state that this was the main reason which incited alike Lord Canning and Sir John Lawrence to urge the advance with a force they knew to be insufficient for a great enterprise. I am confident that if the givers of that advice had realised the strength of Dehlí, and its splendid capabilities of resistance, they would have urged the advance, if they had urged it at all, in language betokening far less confidence. Undoubtedly they felt, and felt most keenly, the enormous issues at stake. Sir John Lawrence did not attempt to conceal his conviction that the maintenance of order in the Punjáb depended on the prompt reduction of Dehlí. Lord Canning knew that the safety of the long and weak middle piece between Allahábád and Mírath would be enormously affected by the retention by the rebels of a place possessing such a history and such prestige. Yet, keenly anxious as they were to strike the decisive blow at the decisive point, I doubt much whether they would have employed the language, almost of remonstrance, which characterised their letters to General Anson if they had imbibed anything like a correct idea of his difficulties, and of the still greater resistance which was awaiting his troops at their destination.
​Goaded by the tone and matter of the letters he received, General Anson prepared to march. For the task before him his force was singularly inadequate. It consisted of the 9th Lancers, the 75th Foot, the 1st and 2d European Regiments, two troops of horse-artillery, and a native regiment, the 60th N. I. These troops were at Ambálah. At Bághpat, one march from Dehlí, they would be joined, if the General's orders were carried out, by the Mírath brigade, composed of two squadrons of the Carabineers, a wing of the 60th Rifles, one light field-battery, one troop of H. A., and some sappers. At the same place, where he expected to arrive on the 5th of June, General Anson hoped to be joined by a small siege-train from Lodiáná. It was a great advantage to him that at this critical period the Cis-Satlaj chiefs and the Nuwáb of Karnál decided to cast in their lot with the British. The assistance they afforded in keeping open the communications and in influencing the populations of the several districts cannot be over-estimated.
Providence did not permit General Anson to witness the triumph of the measures he had organised with so much diligence, so much forethought, and so much ability. ​He waited at Ambálah until he had despatched all but the very last of his troops, and with these, on the 25th of May, he set out for Karnál. Shortly after his arrival there, on the 26th, he was attacked by cholera, and a little after midnight succumbed to that terrible disease. He was succeeded by Sir Henry Barnard, who arrived just in time to be recognised by his dying chief. General Anson's death was a great loss to the army. Those who least cared for him have admitted that 'he was a brave soldier and an honest gentleman.' He was that, and much more. Those who knew him best were convinced that had he lived through the Mutiny he would have gained a splendid reputation.
Sir Henry Barnard was a worthy successor in command of the advancing force to General Anson. He, like his late chief, had felt bitterly the criticisms and the carpings levelled against the military plans by ignorant and uninstructed outsiders. But, imbued with the conviction that if a thing is to be done at all it must be done thoroughly, Barnard threw all his energies into the work which had devolved upon him. 'So long as I exercise any power,' he wrote to Sir John Lawrence, on the 26th, 'you may rest assured that every energy shall be devoted to the objects I have now in view, viz., concentrating all the force I can collect at Delhí, securing the bridge at Bághpat, and securing our communications with Mírath.' Determining not to wait for the siege-train, he set out from Karnál, on the morning of the 27th, and reached Alípur, twelve miles from Delhi, on the 6th of June. There I must leave him for a moment to look after the force which was to join him from Mírath.
The authorities at Mírath had taken some time to recover from the effects of the horrors of the night of the 10th of May. The country seemed to be surging around ​them. The scum of the population had risen in the villages, the gaols had disgorged their prisoners, and, generally, except on the actual spot still occupied by Europeans in Mírath itself, order had everywhere disappeared. In the cantonment and the civil lines martial law had been proclaimed. But a deep despondency had crept over all minds — a despondency augmented by the news of the success of the rebels in Dehlí, and of outrages from outlying stations. There had been risings at Rurkí, sixty miles from Mírath, the headquarters of the engineering science of the country, at Saháranpur, and at Muzaffarnagar. There were murmurings, to break a little later into open mutiny, in the several stations of Rohilkhand. It is true that the energy and firmness of Baird-Smith, a man whose name will for ever be connected with the fall of Dehlí, saved Rurkí; and that the strong character and devotion of Robert Spankie and Dundas Robertson maintained order in Saháranpur. But the alarm created by the attempts at rising there and elsewhere tended greatly to depress those at Mírath, who apparently had been thoroughly unnerved by the terrible night of the 10th of May.
Nothing created so much surprise throughout India as the inaction of the troops at Mírath during the days which succeeded that night. Two splendid English regiments, supported by two batteries of artillery, might surely, it was argued, do something in the district. Those in authority elsewhere, who argued thus, waited in vain for the development of the action they were impatiently expecting. At last Mr Colvin, who, from his post at Agra, the importance of which I have pointed out, had the best reason in the world to dread the consequences of inaction, noting its continuance, addressed Brigadier Wilson, passing over his senior officer. General Hewitt, and begged him, at the very least, to keep open the main road, so as to prevent the ​combinations of revolted troops pushing for Dehlí. But not from Wilson even did Mr Colvin receive the answers he hoped for. 'The only plan,' replied that officer, 'is to concentrate our forces and attack Dehlí?
That was all very well and very true. But, in his general contention, Mr Colvin was right and Brigadier Wilson was wrong. The force might have been kept concentrated to join General Anson and yet have shown itself in the district. Because it did not show itself, the idea began to prevail in the villages round about that all the English had perished on the night of the 10th of May. Much looting and much bloodshed occurred in consequence. It was in repressing one of the outbreaks caused by this belief that a promising civil officer, Mr Johnston, lost his life.
At length orders arrived from the Commander-in-Chief that the brigade should take the field and join the force marching from Ambálah at Bághpat. It set out on the 27th of May. It consisted of two squadrons of the carabineers, a wing of the 60th Rifles, Tombs's troop of horse-artillery, Scott's light field battery, two eighteen-pounder guns, manned by Europeans, some sappers and irregular horse (natives). Three days' marching brought the force to the town of Ghazí-úd-dín Nagar, about a mile from the left bank of the little river Hindan. Partly on the opposite bank, and partly in the bed of that river, then a fordable rivulet, abounding in quicksands and spanned by a suspension bridge, they beheld a considerable body of the mutinied sipáhís, well equipped, their guns occupying a strong position to the right of the bridge, commanding the advance. The English had to march along a causeway exposed to the enemy's fire. This opened at once, but it was almost immediately replied to by the eighteen-pounders and by Scott's field-battery. Under cover ​of this fire the rifles advanced, and soon came in contact with the enemy in the bed of the rivulet. The sipáhís fought well, and the contest was fiercely contested, when the carabineers, making their way across the stream, turned the enemy's left. This was the decisive moment. Pressed in front by the 60th, and mauled in their left flank by the carabineers, the rebels gave way, and fell back on a walled village. The 60th, however, followed them close, and expelling them from this position, forced them to flight along the Dehlí road. The sipáhís lost many men, and left in the hands of the victors five of their guns. The British loss, though small in itself, was large in proportion to the numbers engaged. The intense heat prevented the following up of the victory.
Never was more clearly illustrated the truth of the axiom that a victory not followed up is but half a victory. Undaunted by their defeat, and possibly stimulated by the taunts of their comrades, the sipáhís returned the next day to the battle ground. Taking up about midday a position on a ridge to the right of the Hindan, they opened fire from their guns on Wilson's force. The English guns replied, and for two hours ensued a fierce artillery combat. At the end of that period, Wilson, noticing that the fire of the rebels was slackening, ordered a general advance. The sipáhís did not await it. Discharging into the advancing columns of the English a shower of grape-shot, they limbered up and fell back in orderly array. The intense heat, and the parching thirst suffered by the English, prevented any pursuit. The English were much exhausted, and there were some cases of sunstroke. But great satisfaction prevailed in the camp from the fact that the Mírath brigade, which had been the first to suffer from the treachery of the sipáhís, had been the first to retaliate.
The next day (June 1) the camp was cheered by ​the arrival of the 2d Gurkhás, 500 strong, commanded by an officer who was to occupy a prominent position during the siege, Major Charles Reid. The brigade, after its two engagements, had halted for orders. These were received on the 4th. In pursuance of these, Wilson marched, on the 6th, to Bághpat. The day following he effected the desired junction at Alípur. There also had arrived the siege-train from Philáur, after having undergone some dangers from the contemplated treachery of the mutinous sipáhís of the 3d and 5th N. I.
The junction of all the then available forces had been affected on the morning of the 7th of June. There was now, therefore, no excuse for delaying to carry out the policy insisted upon by Lord Canning and of Sir John Lawrence, that of marching straight into Dehlí. The one had expressed his opinion that the artillery with the force was sufficient to deal with the place; the other that, on the approach of the English troops, the city would open its gates. These theories were now put to the test. Early on the morning of the 8th of June (one o'clock) General Barnard gave the order to advance from Alípur. The scouts had reported that the rebels had taken a strong position at Badlí-kí-Sarái, six miles to the north of Dehlí, a place where groups of old houses and walled gardens, once the country residences of nobles of the Imperial Court, supplied positions capable of prolonged defence. Day was just dawning when Barnard came in sight of this position. As far as he was able to judge, the salient points were strongly armed with guns. To test their strength he sent to the front four heavy guns, a troop of horse-artillery, part of a battery of field-artillery, and directed them to open fire. A few rounds disclosed the fact that the enemy's guns, which had promptly returned the fire, were of heavier calibre than those Barnard had ​sent to the front. The British gunners began to drop, and it seemed doubtful whether they would be able to hold their own. There was but one remedy for this — a remedy which has never failed against Asiatics. Barnard tried it. He sent the 75th deployed, and supported by the 2d Europeans, to charge the rebels' guns. The charge was splendid, but the rebels displayed a stern resolution, clinging to their guns and giving back thrust for thrust There was no flinching, and there was no cry for quarter.
Whilst the 75th and the 2d Europeans were struggling bravely for the guns, the second brigade, led by Brigadier Graves, attacked the enemy's left, whilst, a minute later, Hope Grant, with the cavalry and the horse-artillery, appeared on their rear. The movement of Hope Grant was decisive. The front defence collapsed almost immediately, and the rebels fell back. At first it seemed as though their retreat would be orderly, but the lancers and the horse-artillery took care that this should not be so. Making charge after charge, despite of water-courses and other obstacles, and firing round after round, they compelled the beaten enemy to loose his hold on his guns and his camp equipage, and to retire, baffled and humiliated, within the walls of the city. Barnard, with consummate judgment, pushed on; then having completed the rout of the enemy, he turned to the ridge overlooking Dehlí, drove thence the rebels posted there, and encamped in the position whence he could best direct his attacks on the proud city, which, in spite of his appearance before it, still defied his arms. He and his men had done good work on that eventful day. He had driven the enemy within the walls, with a loss to them of about 350 men, twenty-six guns, and some serviceable ammunition. He had gained and firmly occupied the finest base of opera​tions against the city, a position open in the rear to the reinforcements which he hoped to receive, whilst commanding the plain right up to the walls. What was, perhaps, of scarcely less importance, he had distinctly announced to the rebels throughout India, avowed and concealed, the plain issue between themselves and the British. From this time forth there was no possibility of doubt. The fate of Dehlí would decide the fate of India.
Barnard had not accomplished his end without loss. The killed and wounded amounted to 137. Amongst the former was the Adjutant-General of the army, Colonel Chester, shot down at the commencement of the action. His death was a loss to the gallant soldier, who, fresh from his service in the Crimea, had, without much Indian experience, assumed the command of the besieging army at a moment's notice.
The day following the Corps of Guides, a regiment composed of cavalry and infantry, stationed normally at Hotí-Mardan, on the Panjáb frontier, arrived in camp, led by its commandant, Colonel Henry Daly. Soon after its arrival it was despatched to the front to drive back parties of horse and foot which had sallied from Dehlí to attack the advanced posts of the British. In the engagement which followed the Guides carried all before them. They had, however, the misfortune to lose their acting second-in-command, Lieutenant Quintin Battye, an officer of great promise and of far-reaching popularity. Mortally wounded by a bullet through the body, he murmured to the chaplain who tended him, and who had warned him that but a very brief span of life yet remained to him: 'Dulce et decorum est pro patriâ mori.' A few minutes later he died.
Leaving the besiegers on the ridge they had so gallantly won, I propose, before returning to Calcutta, to take a ​glance at Kánhpur and Lakhnao. I shall then visit Jhánsí and Bundelkhand, and then devote separate chapters to the complete story of the places which bore the brunt of the early conflict. These, in the Bengal Presidency, were Bihár, Kánhpur, Oudh, Agra, and Dehlí. Western, Southern, and Central India will likewise demand a large share of the attention of the reader.
* ↑ Letter from General Barnard, dated Ambálah, May 18, 1857.
* ↑ Sir John Lawrence wrote (May 21): 'My belief is that, with good management on the part of the civil officers, it' (Dehlí) 'would open its gates on the approach of our troops.'
* ↑ For instance, such words as these from Sir John Lawrence: 'Pray only reflect on the whole history of India. Where have we failed when we have acted vigorously? Where have we succeeded when guided by timid counsels?' Lord Canning wrote him that everything depended 'upon speedily disposing of Dehlí, and making a terrible example.' To the letter from which I have quoted he added a paragraph which showed how incompletely he and his advisers had, at this period, grasped the situation: 'Your force of artillery will enable you to dispose of Dehlí with certainty, I therefore beg that you will detach one European infantry regiment and a small force of European cavalry to the south of Dehlí, without keeping them for operations there, so that Alígarh may be recovered and Kánhpur relieved immediately.' This request to a Commander-in-Chief whose troops were already too few, and who had before him the hardest task ever allotted to a British commander in India!