wards a judge of the High Court in Calcutta, received the Victoria Cross for his devoted gallantry. He was one of the many members of the Indian Civil Service who did fine soldierly work in the course of the war. Another was Herwald Wake, the magistrate of Arrah, who, with the help of Vicars Boyle, a railway engineer, and a few other men of white blood, and about fifty faithful natives, held out for seven days against the mutinous sepoys, supported as these were by Koer Singh's people, and by several hundred prisoners from the jail. Koer Singh was a fine-looking Rajput chieftain, a great sportsman, and much liked by Europeans; but he had ruined himself by extravagance, and hoping to retrieve his fortunes in the general disorder he had turned against us. There were too many cases of the kind, showing that friendly association with Europeans did not prevent men from becoming their bitterest enemies when opportunity occurred. How Wake and his little garrison defended the house in which they had taken refuge, and how they were at last relieved, Forrest tells us in stirring language. It was, as he says, "a noble exploit," and it would be difficult to praise too highly the cheery courage of Herwald Wake, who was "the life and soul of the garrison," or the skill and foresight of Boyle, who had fortified the house. But here, as elsewhere, it must be remembered that but for the help of faithful natives the defence would have been hopeless. Of the whole party more than three-fourths were natives, and their conduct was to the full as fine as that of the white men. They were mostly Sikh police soldiers, with a loyal Muhammadan official and one or two servants. "The sepoys appealed to their religious and national sympathy, and bitterly reproached them for fidelity. They then tried to seduce them by offering them 500 rupees per man to give up the Europeans. 'The Sikhs replied by sarcastic remarks and musket bullets.' ... Water began to run short; a Sikh stole out, and when it was dark brought in two spades, and he and his comrades, aided by the Europeans when they could be spared from their posts, set to work to dig a well in the vaults." Water was obtained in plenty, and the defence went on. Against cannon and musketry, and the more disturbing danger of the enemy's mines, the little garrison held out with unshaken courage; and in the end the mutineers were driven off by the daring artillery officer, Vincent Eyre. The relief was as fine as the defence, and in some respects even more astonishing, for Eyre's force was not half the strength of Dunbar's. It consisted of only 150 European infantry, 40 artillerymen with three guns, and 14 mounted volunteers. That such a handful should have dared to advance against three regiments of infantry, backed by Koer Singh's levies, is almost incomprehensible. Yet so confident was Vincent Eyre that he sent back twenty-five Highlanders who had joined him, because he thought they were more needed elsewhere. Eyre was attacked by Koer Singh and the rebel regiments, flushed by their recent triumph over Dunbar's detachment; but after some sharp fighting he defeated them and relieved Arrah. Then, reinforced by the Arrah garrison and some infantry, which raised his numbers to 500 men, he pursued the retreating enemy, fought them again, and captured Koer Singh's stronghold. It was indeed, as Outram called it, "a glorious little campaign," and it was so typical of the spirit shown by our people in this war that we make no excuse for referring to it at greater length than many larger operations. We may perhaps fitly pause here to inquire how such feats were possible. What enabled such handfuls of British and native soldiery to prevail time after time against large numbers of the rebels? The same thing occurred all over the country. As Lord Clyde said in his general order in May 1858: "In no war has it ever happened that troops should always contend against immense numerical odds, as has been invariably the case in every encounter during the struggle of the last year." What made success not only possible but usual in such circumstances? The question is not easy to answer. No doubt it was due in some measure to the fact that the British soldier, maddened by the slaughter of women and children, and the brutal treatment of his wounded comrades, fought with extraordinary fury and contempt of death. His one longing was always to get at his enemy and deal out vengeance, and the knowledge that this spirit animated him had its effect in cowing the mutineers. It would probably have had a disquieting effect on any enemy. No doubt also the sepoy, bravely as he often stood, was constitutionally less eager for hand-to-hand fighting than the European. But, as cannot be too often repeated, the victorious troops were largely natives of India, not Europeans. Perhaps great numbers of the enemy were half-hearted. They had no real inspiring national cause, and had joined the ranks of the mutineers with more or less hesitation,-some from fear or belief in the story of the greased cartridges, some from reluctance to desert their comrades, some carried away by the general spirit of disorder. With the exception of a few who were moved by ambition, or religious fanaticism, or race hatred, they hardly knew what they were fighting for, and cared more about their own safety than the success of their arms. Many never lost a certain feeling of attachment to the service. Forrest records, for example, that in one action, " wrapped round the body of a native officer, were found the colours heart. 1/be Sken its In an of his old corps." Many, one well to take that lesson to The closing chapters of Forrest's volume are perhans less full of thrilling int than the earlier part. back of the revolt was br and our troops had gained the upper hand so completely that the rebels when attacked often gave way and dispersed without serious fighting. Still, during the hot weather and rains of 1858 there was much hard work, and at times hard fighting, too; and the deadly sun continued to add to long roll of victims. action near Lucknow, "after three hours' hard combat, the enemy finally gave way, leaving six guns and about 600 dead on the field. The British loss in killed and wounded was 67, and in addition 33 men died from sunstroke and 250 were taken into hospital. 'The men fell asleep in their tents and never awoke - apoplexy, resulting from exposure to the sun, being the immediate cause of death.' But by the close of the rainy season the revolt had practically been subdued all over the country, except in the great province of Oudh, the home of many thousand men of the Bengal army. There the feudal chiefs and landowners had thrown in their lot with the mutineers, and the whole countryside had gone with them, so that subjugation had been a long process, and was still incomplete; but elsewhere the work had been done. Central India had been cleared and pacified; the brave old upon a second British detachment a painful defeat similar to that at Arrah, had died of his wounds; Lower Bengal was free of mutineers; everywhere, except in Oudh, the mutiny seemed over. All was ready for the final cold weather campaign, by which Sir Colin Campbell, now become Lord Clyde, was to break up and scatter the Oudh rebels, and stamp out the last flicker of armed resistance. Koer Singh, after inflicting It guaranteed the scrupulous maintenance of all treaties and engagements made with the native princes. It declared that none of the Queen's subjects should be favoured or molested on account of their religion, but that all should alike enjoy the equal and impartial protection of the law. And it promised unconditional pardon and amnesty to all in arms against the Government except those directly concerned in the murder of British subjects, and those who had willingly given murderers an asylum. On the appointed day, near the fort at Allahabad, the proclamation was read out before Lord Canning and Lord Clyde, "and a blare of trumpets and the roar of cannon announced the commencement of a new reign." Just before the veteran leader took the field for his last campaign a solemn and historical ceremony was carried out. In the course of the summer the great Company which so long ruled India had laid down its imperial power, and the administration of the Indian Empire had passed into the hands of the British Crown. A Royal Proclamation had been drafted, in accordance with instructions given by Queen Victoria herself, to announce to the people of India the establishment of the new order. "On the 1st of November," writes Forrest, this Proclamation, "translated into the many languages and dialects in use throughout the wide and varied continent, was read, with the degree of ceremonial splendour that the circumstances of the time would allow, in all the great centres of population and at every civil and military station in India." The terms of the proclamation are well known. It has become the Charter of the Indian chiefs and people. Thus ended the rule of the great Company, and with it the line of the Moghuls, for a few days later there came to Allahabad, "in a shabby palanquin, and surrounded by lancers with their weapons ready," the last of the Delhi Emperors, a prisoner on his way to lifelong exile. In his palace English people had been cruelly murdered; now it was in the hands of their countrymen, and the Imperial city was to know his race no more. How Lord Clyde completed his work in Oudh, and finally crushed the mutineers, Forrest tells us fully and clearly. He sums up in these words: "During the brief winter campaign some hundreds of forts were destroyed, about 150 guns captured, and 150,000 armed men, of whom at least 35,000 were disciplined soldiers, were subdued." By the beginning of 1859 the last of the Oudh rebels had submitted, or had been hunted over the frontier into Nepal. The great revolt was at an end. But before bringing his book to a close Forrest tells us of the many risings and fights in the native states of Rajputana; and of the long pursuit, and final hunting down, of Tantia Topee. That murderer of women and children was hanged on the 18th of April 1859, and a year later his companion in the Cawnpore massacre, Jwala Pershai, shared the same fate. The infamous Nana and his other lieutenants were wanderers in the jungle, and God only knows by what miserable death they died. So ends the story: "Justice was done, mercy shown to all who were not guilty of deliberate murder, the land cleansed of blood." It is a sad story, a story which at times brings tears to the eyes and wrath to the heart; yet it is one of which Englishmen, and many natives of India, may well be proud. It has been told, as it should have been told, with truth and dignity. God grant that we may master its lessons. They are not discouraging. So long as we rule justly, and hold command of the sea, and strike out swiftly against revolt or treason, we have nothing to fear from any enemy in India. But, however just our rule, we cannot hope to be without enemies. We must be vigilant and strong, as well as just. |