topics: |  fiction | british-india | history | mutiny

This is a text that is completely and vehemently parochial and opinionated,
and brushes off all inconvenient evidence which may contradict its
pre-decided thesis.  The narrative is so clearly embellished with the author's
reconstructions that it is better read as a fictional tale than a history.

Trevelyan was a British nobility and was a minister under Gladstone.  He had
spent some time in India between 1862 and 1865, towards the end of which this
book was written.  Like his uncle Lord Macaulay (who is also often referred
as a historian), he had no training in history, and made no attempt to weigh
his evidence or even adopt a veneer of impartiality. 

Written in 1865, one marvels at the certainty with which the narrative flows.
The Indian incidents - particularly, the role of Nana Sahib, are largely
based on the now-discredited diary of Nanak Chand - it appears that he may
have written, post facto, a number of incidents which record what he thought
the British may want to hear (see Mukherjee, Spectre of Violence).  His other
sources are a number of British narratives, many of them full of
contradictions, which are given full weightage.

Many events are embellished to the point of historical fiction, but the narrative
is still given the appearance of history.  For example, here we have an
exchange when the entrenchment is being constructed (end-May / early-June):

	During these days Azimoolah, while walking with a lieutenant who had
	been a great favourite at Bithoor, pointed to the fortification which
	was then in progress, and said:—

	"What do you call that place you are making out "in the plain V ,

	"I am sure I don't know," was the reply.

	Azimoolah suggested that it should be called "The Fort of Despair." "No, no;"
	answered the Englishman, "We will call it the Fort of Victory," an observation
	that was received by his companion with an air of incredulous assent, which he
	must have acquired in West End drawing-rooms.

The entire story is underlined with this fiercely opinionated style, and
many characters are painted with a biting satire, particularly all Indians.

But the partisanism and satire extends also to his analysis of Wheeler, who is
considered as a soldier who is now too old to be useful, and other old men who
"should have retired in the Mooltan", "invalids who should have been
comfortably telling their stories of the Mahratta war in the pump-rooms of
Cheltenham and Buxton."   While admitting to Wheeler's physical agility
despite his 75 years, Trevelyan blushes to think that the fate of a military
nation like England depended on such a man.

Nonetheless, the text is an easy read and a superb record of what Gautam Chakravarty
(The Indian mutiny and the British imagination, 2005), calls the
"dominant interpretation":

     a discernible pattern that without "explicit censorship or any conscious
     plot to deceive", presented a series of plots, redactions and myths that
     underlie the colonial enterprise.

What is interesting is how the volume still remains in print in the Indian
edition, and is read by generations of Indians as well.

Excerpts

The city of Cawnpore lies on the south bank of the Ganges, which at that spot is about a quarter of a mile in breadth, and this too in the dry season: for, when the rains have filled the bed, the stream measures two thousand yards from shore to shore. And yet the river has still a thousand miles of his stately course to run before that, by many channels and under many names, he loses himself in the waters of the Bay of Bengal. In old times an officer appointed to Cawnpore thought himself fortunate if he could reach his station within three months from the day he left Fort William. But tow-ropes and punt-poles are now things of the past, and the traveller from Calcutta arrives at the end of his journey in little more than thirty hours.

By the treaty of Fyzabad, in 1775, the East India Company engaged to maintain a brigade for the defence of Oude. The revenues of a rich and extensive tract of country were appointed for the maintenance of this force, which was quartered at Cawnpore, the principal town of the district.

In 1801, Lord Wellesley, who loved to carry matters with a masterful hand, closed the mortgage, and the territory lapsed to the Company, who accepted this new charge with some diffidence. Indeed, they were not a little uneasy at the splendid rapacity of their high-souled servant. [quotes some latin poetry here]

Hugh Wheeler, too old a soldier

The officer in command of the Cawnpore division was Major-General Sir Hugh
Wheeler, K.C.B. At the outbreak .of the troubles, many of our most important
stations were entrusted to the charge of men who had won their spurs at
Seringapatam, and might well have been content to have closed their career at
Mooltan. It was to our shame as a military nation that, during such a crisis,
the fortunes of England too often depended on the ability of invalids who
should have been comfortably telling their stories of the Mahratta war in the
pump-rooms of Cheltenham and Buxton. History blushes to chide these veterans
for shortcomings incidental to their age. ... younger warriors would have been
disarming, and blowing from guns, and securing treasure, and throwing up
earthworks, and sending the women and children down the river to Calcutta.

In this his second half-century of Indian service, Sir Hugh was among the
oldest members of the old school of Bengal officers. He worshipped his sepoys;
spoke their language like one of themselves; and, indeed, had testified to his
predilection for the natives of Hindostan by the strongest proof which it is in
the power of a man to give. Short and spare, he still rode and walked like a
soldier: and appears to have been capable of as much exertion as could
reasonably be expected from an Englishman who had spent beneath an Indian sun
more than two-thirds of his seventy-five years. On the eighteenth of May, he
despatched the following message to the seat of Government:

   All well at Cawnpore. Quiet, but excitement continues among the people. The
   final advance on Delhi will soon be made.

[But] in truth the plague was very far from stayed.

It happens that a native lawyer, Nanukchund by name, took the precaution to
keep a full and faithful journal, from the fifteenth of May onwards. This man
was bound to our interest by the indissoluble tie of a common fear. A personal
enemy of the Nana, he was actually engaged in conducting the suit instituted by
the nephew of Bajee Rao to establish his claim to the half of his uncle's
estate. 

[This diary of Nanakchand has been widely discredited based on internal and
external inconsistency (S.B. Chaudhuri); in all likelihood, it was mostly
composed when the British were looking for evidence.   It is the source of
much of the dominant narrative's reconstruction of events at the Indian end. ]

Building the entrenchment

There were some, however, who scrupled to entrust the honour of England and the
lives of her daughters to the exclusive guardianship of a discontented
Mahratta.  At their instigation the General set to work in a dilatory spirit to
provide an asylum where, if the worst should befall, we might shelter, for a
while at least, the relics of our name and power. He does not appear to have
thought of the magazine, which was admirably adapted for defence. A mud wall,
four feet high, was thrown up round the buildings which composed the old
dragoon hospital, and ten guns of various calibre were placed in position round
the intrenchment, by which name the miserable contrivance was dignified. 

During these days Azimoolah, while walking with a lieutenant who had been a
great favourite at Bithoor, pointed to the fortification which was then in
progress, and said:—

"What do you call that place you are making out in the plain?"

"I am sure I don't know," was the reply.

Azimoolah suggested that it should be called "The Fort of Despair." "No, no;"
answered the Englishman, "We will call it the Fort of Victory," an observation
that was received by his companion with an air of incredulous assent, which he
must have acquired in West End drawing-rooms.

Nana Rao becomes "leader" of the rebels

Meanwhile, the Nana was in intimate communication with the ringleaders of the
Second Cavalry. 

At length, Teeka Sing had the honour of an interview with the Nana himself,
during which, according to the story current among his comrades, the Soubadar
spoke to this effect: "You have come to take "charge of the magazine and
treasury of the English; "we all, Hindoos and Mahommedans, have united "for
our religions, and the whole Bengal army has u become one in purpose. What do
you say to it?" The Nana replied: "I, also, am at the disposal of the army."

[...]

Last despatch from Kanpur

At nine o'clock on the night of the third of June, went forth the last
telegraphic message that ever reached the outer world. Thus it ran :—

    Sir Hugh Wheeler to the Secretary to the Government of India.

    All the orders and proclamations have been sent express, as the telegraph
    communication between this and Agra is obstructed.

    Sir Henry Lawrence having expressed some uneasiness, I have just sent him by
    post carriages out of my small force two officers and fifty men of Her
    Majesty's 84th Foot; conveyance for more not available. This leaves me weak,
    but I trust to holding my own until more Europeans arrive.

Acquitting an Englishman who fired on the 2nd cavalry

now at Cawnpore the smouldering fires of discontent and distrust were
inflamed by an incident which at ordinary times would have passed almost
without remark. There was resident at the station a cashiered subaltern whom
it would be cruel to name; one of those miserable men who had sought relief
from the mental vacuity and physical prostration of an Indian military life
in the deadly solace of excess.  This officer, whether in the wantonness of
drink, or the horror of shattered nerves, fired a shot at a cavalry patrol
who challenged him as he reeled out of his bungalow into the darkness.  He
missed his aim, as was natural under the circumstances; but the trooper
lodged a complaint in the morning, and a court-martial was assembled which
acquitted the Englishman, on the ground that he was intoxicated at the time,
and that his musket had gone off under a mistake.

The sepoys, familiar as they were with the brutality of low Europeans and the
vagaries of military justice, would at a less critical season have expressed
small surprise either at the outrage or the decision. But now their blood was
up, and their pride awake, and tbey were not inclined to overrate the
privileges of an Anglo-Saxon, or the sagacity of a military tribunal. The men
of the Second Cavalry muttered angrily that possibly their own muskets might
go off by mistake before very long, and this significant expression became
proverbial throughout the whole native force.  [...]

Outbreak

When the mutineers had arrived at Nawabgunge they were given to understand
that the Nana was in the neighbourhood. Accordingly he was waited on by a
deputation of native officers and troopers who addressed him in these words:
"Maharaja, a kingdom awaits you if "you join our enterprise, but death if you
side with "our enemies." The ready reply was, "What have "I to do with the
British? I am altogether yours."

The envoys then requested him to lead the troops to Delhi. He assented to their
desire; and ended by placing his hand on the head of each of the party, and
swearing fidelity to the national cause. Then the rebels returned to their
comrades, and the business of spoliation began. 

The mutineers first marched in a body to the Treasury: the keeper of the keys
was terrified into surrendering his charge: the doors were unlocked, and
silver to the value of near a hundred thousand pounds sterling was
distributed among the ranks of the four regiments. Then the concourse
dispersed in search of plunder and mischief. Some broke open the jail, and
turned loose upon society the concentrated rascality of one of the most
rascally districts in our Eastern dominions. Others set fire to the
magistrate's office and the Court House; and, in a fit of irrational malice,
made a bonfire of all the Records, civil and criminal alike. Others again,
after parading about with a flag hoisted upon the back of an elephant, vented
their spite by cutting the cables of the bridge of boats, great part of which
floated down the river. [...]

When they had done as much damage as could be got into a single morning the
mutineers packed their more valuable booty about their persons; filled a long
caravan of carts with their property, their domestic gods, and their female
relations of every degree; set forth on their adventurous journey; and, after
a very easy afternoon's march, halted at Kullianpore, the first stage on the
Delhi road.

But as soon as the deputation from the rebel army had left the presence of the
Nana his most trusted advisers unanimously adjured him to give up the idea of
accompanying the march on Delhi; and especially his ame damnee, Azimoolah,
urged that if he allowed himself to be absorbed into the court of the Mogul he
would lose all power and influence [...]
: that it would be far more politic to bring

The eloquence of the ci-devant footman fired the Maharaja, who accordingly
ordered his elephants and pushed on for Kullianpore, attended by his brothers
Bala and Baba Bhut, and the indispensable Azimoolah. The ringleaders of the
mutiny expressed their pleasure in being blessed once more with the light of
his countenance, but displayed very little inclination to give up the idea of
Delhi. On the contrary, they suggested that the Nana should stay behind at
Cawnpore, and garrison the Magazine with his own retainers, while they
themselves prosecuted their expedition towards the North West. To this Bala,
a man of execrable temper, which, however, he appears to have been able to
curb on occasion, replied that Sir Hugh Wheeler and his Europeans would make
themselves very unpleasant to the defenders of the Magazine, and proposed
that the mutineers should first return and clear out the intrenchment and
then go off to Delhi.

At this point the Maharaja threw in a prospect of unlimited pillage and an
offer of a gold anklet to each sepoy, which produced an instant and
favourable effect upon his audience. The mutineers agreed to retrace their
steps, and not leave the station until they had put all the English to the
sword. As a pledge of their earnest intention to carry out his desires they
unanimously saluted the Nana as their Rajah, and proceeded forthwith to
choose leaders who should command them in the field. Soubahdar Teeka Sing,
the prime mover of the revolt, was appointed chief of the cavalry, with the
title of General. Jemmadar Dulgunjun Sing became Colonel of the Fifty-third,
and Soubahdar Gunga Deen Colonel of the Fifty-sixth.