The Indian Mutiny of 1857/Chapter 15
CHAPTER XV.
CALCUTTA AND WESTERN BIHÁR IN JULY AND AUGUST.
Reports of the terrible fate of the English men and English women who had been besieged by the rebels at Kánhpur had reached Calcutta early in July, but it was not until Havelock telegraphed, on the 17th of the month, the account of his victory, and of their murder, that all hope of their survival disappeared. Then, for a moment, the crushing blight of despair succeeded to the agony of suspense. Only, however, for a moment. Almost instantly there rose in its place an intense eagerness to place in the hands of the avenging General all the available resources of the State — resources which should make him strong enough to push on to ward off from other threatened garrisons, especially from the garrison of the Residency of Lakhnao, a similar calamity. For the moment the Government, the press, the mercantile bodies, public opinion generally, seemed to unite in concentrating their efforts to obtain this wished-for result Lord Canning had, in the last days of July, sanctioned the raising in Calcutta of a corps of yeomanry cavalry — a corps which, led by a very resolute and able officer, Major J. F. Richardson, was destined to render excellent service. He had, further, in conjunction with the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, directed similar enlistments from the unemployed sailors to meet the troubles then threatening in Bengal and Bihár, and he had concluded an arrangement with Jang Bahádur, Prime Minister and virtual ruler of the State of Nipál, for the despatch of a body of Gurkhá troops to the districts of Gorákhpur and Ázamgarh.
So far he had done well. But none of those acts, praiseworthy as they were, touched the crucial point. They did not provide immediate succour to Havelock. Yet at that moment, besides the 53d, which garrisoned Fort William, there was a wing of the 37th regiment available; the 10th Foot garrisoned Dánápur; whilst on the 5th of July, two days before Havelock started from Allahábád on his memorable campaign, the 5th Fusiliers, 800 strong, landed in Calcutta from the Mauritius.
Havelock, we have seen, wanted on the 5th August, according to his own estimate, another thousand men to enable him to reach Lakhnao. Now, on the 5th of July there were 1200 men available, either at Calcutta, or on their way, steaming towards Allahabad (for the wing of the 37th had been despatched just before) without weakening the garrisons of Calcutta and Dánápur. With a little management that number could have been considerably increased. We left Havelock, in the last chapter, on the 13th August, stranded at Kánhpur for want of such troops. Why, in the terrible crisis which interrupted his victorious career, were the troops which might have been available not promptly despatched to him?
To this question there is an answer, and that answer indicates the difference which arose between the Government and the rest of the European community, and with respect to which the Government adopted a course, timid, shrinking, and politically ruinous. For the sake of a sentiment they risked the temporary loss of the Empire. Indeed, it will be proved that but for the heroic conduct of one man, the late Vincent Eyre, the country between Calcutta and Banáras would have been overrun by the rebels.
The water-line between Calcutta and Allahábád, about 664 miles in length, had one weak middle point at Dánápur and Patná, two places only twelve miles apart. Dánápur was 344 miles from Calcutta, the city of Patná was twelve miles nearer to the capital. At Dánápur there were, as I have already stated, three native regiments, the 7th, 8th, and 40th N. I., one company of European, one of native artillery, and the 10th Foot. The position of the two places was a most important one. The province, Western Bihár, of which Patná was the capital, was one of the richest provinces in India. It contained a considerable number of native landowners, men of large estates and ancient lineage. English merchants, too, had invested large sums in the province in the cultivation of indigo, one of its staple exports. It touched on the one side, to the north-west, the revolted districts of Gházípur, Ázamgarh, Juánpur, and Mírzápur; to the north, it touched Nipál; to the east, the division of Eastern Bihár, not only combustible itself, but open to invasion by the sipáhís in Eastern Bengal, then in a state of incipient mutiny.
It will be recognised, then, that it was of paramount importance that the division of Western Bihár, the middle piece between Calcutta and Allahábád, should be preserved from outbreak by a Government anxious to despatch English troops to Allahábád, thence to proceed to reinforce Havelock at Kánhpur.
Up to the period at which I have arrived the province had been preserved from revolt by the energetic measures taken by its Commissioner, Mr William Tayler. Harassed by the fussy interference of his superior at Calcutta, Mr Frederick Halliday, Mr Tayler had, nevertheless, with resources he had made for himself, put down insurrection in the most inflammable city in India, the headquarters of the intriguing Wahábís, and had preserved, amid great difficulties, complete order in the districts, those of Patná, Gayá, Shahábád, Sáran, Champáran, and Tirhút, which went to make up the division of which he was the proconsul. His services have never been acknowledged, he has been treated with contumely and insult, but he contributed as much as any man, in that terrible crisis called the Indian Mutiny, to save the Empire.
To the mind of William Tayler there was, towards the end of June, but one possible danger to the province. That danger would be very great if the sipáhís at Dánápur, numbering nearly 3000 men, were to break out in revolt. If the Government would but order that they should be disarmed all would go well. For that he would answer.
The opinion of Mr Tayler on this point was also the opinion of all intelligent men in Calcutta, that is, of the united merchants and traders, men who had shown their loyalty and devotion by raising the corps of volunteers, of the three arms, of which I have spoken, of the great majority of the members of the services, and of the loyal natives. It was the opinion, in fact, of everyone who was not a secretary to Government, or who hoped, by time-serving and subserviency, to become a secretary to Government. The question had been mooted at an earlier period. The reply, demi-official, of the Government then had been that, with only a sufficient number of European troops to preserve order close to the capital, it did not feel justified in proceeding to a measure which, unless there were sufficient white troops on the spot, might precipitate the evil it was intended to heal. That answer sufficed for the moment. But when the 37th had started, and when preparations were being made to despatch the 5th Fusiliers, in steamers which must pass Patná and Dánápur, it was felt that the time had arrived when the disarming process might be carried out in an effective manner, under circumstances which would render resistance impossible.
These ideas took possession of the English community in Calcutta, and were ventilated by the press. It was believed, at the outset, that the Government would welcome the suggestion as tending to relieve them from a great difficulty. The Government had acknowledged that the weakness of the middle piece constituted at the moment the great difficulty in despatching reinforcements to Havelock. Now that great difficulty could be removed. Great, then, was the surprise when the rumour pervaded the city that the Government had resolved to decline the responsibility which devolves upon all governments — the responsibility of directing the carrying out of a measure which each member of it knew to be essential to the well-being of the Empire.
Great, I say, was the astonishment. Was it for this, men asked one another, that Lord Canning had summoned from Madras Sir Patrick Grant to advise him? Nothing, it was true, had been seen or heard of Sir Patrick Grant since his arrival. It was known that he was occupying comfortable quarters at Government House, and that he was babbling about reorganisation, when the question was the suppression of the Mutiny. But in military matters he was, nominally at least, the chief councillor of the Governor-General, and it was supposed that he, an officer trained with sipáhís, would at least understand the necessity of the position. But rumour further stated that Lord Canning was greatly guided by his advice, and by that of the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, Mr Halliday. In the latter no one had any confidence. It was felt, then, that the time had arrived when the leading members of the mercantile community, all of whom, as proprietors of indigo factories, had large interests in Western Bihár, should ask to be allowed to make a personal appeal to Lord Canning. They made a request to this effect on the 17th of July. Lord Canning agreed to receive them on the 20th.
He did receive a deputation from them on that date, listened to their statements, heard from their mouths that the disarming of the native regiments at Dánápur was the one measure necessary to restore public confidence in Bihár; that a favourable opportunity now presented itself for the carrying out of such a measure, inasmuch as the 5th Fusiliers, which had quitted Calcutta by steamer on the 12th, would reach Dánápur about the 22d; and that then the disarming could be accomplished in two hours. Lord Canning listened to them without interrupting them, then told them very curtly, using the fewest words he could command to express his meaning, that he would not comply with their request.
The Government of India had, in fact, previously decided to attempt one of those half-measures which weak and incompetent men cling to in an emergency. Unable to brace themselves to the resolution of directing the disarming of the native regiments, they had, on the 12th of July, by the hand of Sir Patrick Grant, cast the responsibility of disarming or of not disarming on the officer commanding the Dánápur division. That officer, General Lloyd, was to be the sole judge of the advisability or the inadvisability of the measure. 'If,' wrote to him Sir Patrick Grant, on the 12th July, 'when the regiment' (the 5th Fusiliers) 'reaches Dánápur, you see reason to distrust the native troops, and you entertain an opinion that it is desirable to disarm them, you are at liberty to disembark the 5th Fusiliers to assist you in that object.'
The reader will not fail to comprehend the position. The native troops in Bengal and in the North-west Provinces of India had generally mutinied or had been disarmed. At Dánápur, twelve miles from the inflammable city of Patná, the centre of the richest province in India, were three native regiments still carrying their arms. Havelock was at Kánhpur crying for reinforcements. The arrival at Kánhpur of such reinforcements depended on the continued tranquillity of the middle piece of country of which Dánápur and Patná were the centres. The continued tranquillity of that middle piece could only be insured by the prompt disarming of the three native regiments at Dánápur. The public voice, the great mercantile community, besought the Government to issue positive orders for such disarming. The Government absolutely refused, but, as a sop, they threw the responsibility of the action to be taken upon an aged soldier, whose nerves were utterly unequal to the task; who, in fact, emulating the action of his superiors at Calcutta, endeavoured to reconcile the responsibility thrust upon him, with the evident reluctance of the Government that he should exercise it, by devising another half-measure, which brought about the very catastrophe which strong and resolute action would have avoided. Well might Lord Dalhousie write, as he did write, when the news of the catastrophe and its causes reached him: 'Why was it left to General Lloyd, or to General or Mister Anybody, to order measures so obviously necessary to safety?'
For, be it remembered, throughout the period from the outbreak of the mutiny at Mírath and the casting upon the shoulders of General Lloyd of responsibilities which properly belonged to the Government, it had been with the utmost difflculty, and by the display of the rarest qualities of courageous statesmanship, that Mr William Tayler had been able to preserve order at Patná and throughout his division. He had put down an uprising in the city itself, had baffled the machinations of the Wahábí leaders, had instilled fear and discouragement in the ranks of the seditious, and by his splendid example had given confidence to his subordinates. Amongst those who had been acting with him in the districts was a very gallant officer. Major John Holmes, commanding the 12th Irregular Cavalry stationed at Sigauli, in the Champáran district. Holmes, like most officers serving with the native troops, believed implicitly in the loyalty of his own men, and certainly for some weeks they justified his confidence by their obedience and energy. It is just possible that, if the sipáhís at Dánápur had been quietly disarmed, those troopers would have remained loyal. The result showed that they could not be proof against the successful rising of their brethren at the chief station.
It would serve no good purpose to dwell at length upon the incompetent action which threw the middle piece between Calcutta and Kánhpur into a condition of unparalleled disorder, and delayed the advance of the troops for which the heart of the gallant Havelock was preying upon itself. Under the weight of the responsibility thrust upon him the mind of General Lloyd vacillated like the pendulum of a clock. When, on the 22d, the main body of the 5th Fusiliers arrived off Dánápur, the pendulum was at the left corner, and he would not order them to disembark. Two days later, when two companies of the 37th reached the station, the pendulum had veered to the right, and he ordered them to land. The day following, the 25th, he resolved not to disarm the sipáhís, but to deprive them of the percussion caps which had been served out to them, and of those in the magazine. By a display of force he succeeded in securing the caps in the magazine. Then, believing he had scored a triumph, he dismissed the European troops, and went comfortably to his luncheon. But when an hour or two later the officers, by his direction, endeavoured to persuade the sipáhís to surrender the caps in their actual possession, the latter broke into open mutiny, and went off towards the river Són, in the direction of Árah. The European troops were at once called out, but there was no one present to give any orders. The General had gone on board of one of the steamers, and in the matter of taking upon themselves the smallest responsibility in his absence the two officers next in command took example from the Government of India. Nothing, or next to nothing, was done. The mutineers got off scot free. It was one of the most painful incidents of those troublous times.
Nor was the calamity confined to Dánápur. The telegraph did its work. The very evening of the day on which these events occurred the troopers of the 12th Irregulars rose in mutiny and murdered their commanding officer and his wife. Similarly, Kunwar Singh, a large landowner, who had considerable estates at Jagdíspur, not far from Árah, and who had had bitter reason to complain of the action of the law courts of Calcutta, intimated to the sipáhís, by some very practical assistance, his sympathy with their movement. It seemed probable that, unless the British should take prompt action, the whole of Western Bihár would be in a blaze.
There were two officials in the province upon whom, at this period, devolved enormous responsibility. The one was ready to take that responsibility, and did take it. The other had completely lost his head. The action of these two officials will now be related. It was the obvious duty of General Lloyd to despatch English troops at once in pursuit of the rebels. He had a sufficient number at his disposal. But the heavy weight of responsibility had made his brain slow, and his arm powerless to strike. He did, indeed, despatch a few riflemen the following day, in a river steamer, to the mouth of the river Són. But there the draught of water was insufficient, and the men returned, having accomplished nothing. Then the General wrote to Mr Tayler to the effect that, far from pursuing the mutineers, he intended to intrench himself at Dánápur, as he feared that, joined by Kunwar Singh, they would return to attack him. Then it was that the nature of William Tayler showed itself. He was a civilian; the other was a soldier. The soldier, sad to recount, his moral faculties overborne, proposed to intrench himself against an enemy who had no thought of attacking him. The civilian, with all his wits about him, his strong faculties never so clear as in the time of danger, deprecated the resolution of the soldier with all the eloquence he could command. He implored him to lose no time in pursuing the rebels, showed that there was yet time to catch them, and that vigour and energy might yet retrieve the disaster.
Tayler's strong exhortations convinced the General. They impressed upon him some of the passionate conviction which animated the daring Commissioner. He despatched then a body of troops, 415 in number, with fifteen officers, commanded by Captain Dunbar, to be conveyed by steamer to a point not far from the spot where the road to Árah strikes the river Són. Thence they would march to the former place, where, it was believed, the sipáhís would be found.
Leaving these men marching, I must return to the sipáhís.
The rebel native soldiers, surprised at being allowed to escape without pursuit, reached the banks of the Són on the early morn of the 26th. For want of boats in which to cross they were delayed there till the evening. Then, having received meanwhile most comforting assurances from Kunwar Singh, they were, thanks to the means provided by that chief, conveyed to the western bank. They then marched to Árah, released the prisoners from the gaol, plundered the treasury, and set forth to hunt for the Europeans. These, however, thanks to the prescience of one of their number, had taken timely precautions to meet their attack.
The story of the leaguer of Árah is a story of foresight, gallantry, perseverance, energy, and devotion unsurpassed in the world's history. The prescient organiser of the successful resistance to the bloodthirsty sipáhís was Mr Vicars Boyle, an engineer connected with the railway. But his companions, Herwald Wake, Colvin, Halls, Combe, Littledale, and the rest, for there were fifteen Englishmen and Eurasians, besides the Deputy Collector, a Muhammadan gentleman named Sayid Azím-úd-dín Khán, fifty Sikhs, inclusive of native officers, a water-carrier and a cook, were all worthy of association with him. They had long regarded the outbreak of the sipáhís at Dánápur as possible, and when it did occur they collected in the house which Mr Vicars Boyle had prepared, provisioned, and to a certain extent fortified. The presence of the Sikhs among them was due, absolutely and entirely, to the prescient care of Mr William Tayler of Patná, a circumstance which was much appreciated at the time, but which, like many other of the noble acts of that gentleman, has been since conveniently forgotten.
The mutinous sipáhís, aided by the levies of Kunwar Singh, crowded to attack the little house on the evening of the 27th. They were met by a stern resistance such as they evidently had not expected. They changed their tactics then, and brought up guns to assist them. They used these on the 28th, and during the day of the 29th. But that night there was a lull, and the garrison was cheered by hearing a musketry fire in the direction from which they expected assistance — the direction of Dánápur.
The musketry fire was indeed the consequence of the proximity of Dunbar's force, but, alas! it was produced mainly by the muskets of the revolted sipáhís. Dunbar, in fact, marching carelessly, and without the precautions essential to a night march in a country occupied by an enemy, had fallen into an ambuscade. He and other officers were killed; the men, surprised, became discouraged, and attempting to retrace their steps to the Són, they were pursued by almost the full force of the rebels. It was a rout as complete as it was disgraceful. Many men were killed and wounded during the retreat. When the survivors reached the Són, they experienced the greatest difficulty in forcing their way to its eastern bank. They at last succeeded; the steamer which had brought them to a certain point was still waiting for them there. On that steamer, in lieu of the 415 men and fifteen officers whom she had carried, full of hope, the previous morning, there were now only fifty men and three officers who had been untouched by the enemy's fire.
The repulse of the force which, at the instance of Mr Tayler, General Lloyd had despatched to relieve Árah added greatly to the despondency of that officer. It would be difficult to exaggerate the gloom, not to say the terror, which fell upon Dánápur. Upon Mr Tayler the effect was very different. It seemed, indeed, impossible to doubt that Árah must fall. If Árah should fall, then the several stations, isolated, each depending on its own resources, must inevitably be overrun. Under these circumstances, Mr Tayler, acting like a skilful general who feels that his detachments would be liable, when separated from one another and unsupported, to be cut up in detail, but would successfully resist the enemy if united, authorised his several subordinate officers at the isolated stations to fall back upon Patná, bringing the contents of their treasuries with them, unless in so doing their personal safety should be endangered. It was a wise and statesmanlike order, and it would have been so accepted by all the world but for the sudden appearance on the scene of a man whose genius and daring suddenly changed disaster into triumph.
Such men are born seldom. The man who accomplished this feat was a major in the artillery, who had served in the first Kábul war, had been kept there a prisoner, who had written a story of the events which led to and followed the disaster to the English, and who had since served in Gwáliár and in Burma. His name was Vincent Eyre. He had but just been recalled from Burma, and had been despatched with a European battery, on board a steamer from Calcutta bound for Allahábád, on the 10th of July.
Eyre had reached Dánápur the evening of the 25th, the day memorable for the successful rising of the three regiments. He had gone on shore and offered his services to the General, but as these were not required, he had proceeded the next day to Baksar, forty-three miles from Árah. There he heard that the mutinied sipáhís were advancing by way of Árah towards Baksar. As this place was the headquarters of the Government stud, and was but thirty miles from Gházípur, Eyre decided to detain the tender of the steamer at Baksar, whilst he should proceed in the latter to Gházípur to ensure the safety of that place. This he did on the 29th; left two guns and his only subaltern to protect Gházípur, took instead twenty-five men of the 78th on to his steamer, and returned that night to Baksar. There he found 154 men of the 5th Fusiliers, who had arrived that afternoon, under the command of Captain L'Estrange. As the information he received conveyed to the mind of Eyre the impression that the rebels had stopped at Árah to besiege our countrymen there, he determined to endeavour to induce L'Estrange to combine with him to march to the relief of that place. He wrote to him to that effect. L'Estrange replied that if Eyre, as senior officer, would send him a written order to that effect, and would take upon himself the entire responsibility, he would obey him. Eyre, who had not graduated in the school of the Calcutta statesmen, issued the order forthwith. He knew, of course, that he was, so to speak, risking his commission, for his orders were to proceed to Allahábád, and the march to Árah would take him nearly fifty miles off his direct road. But to the courageous mind of Eyre the occasion was one in which it was imperative to risk his all — and he risked it.
Eyre's force consisted of forty gunners and three guns, 154 men of the 5th Fusiliers, six officers, including himself, two assistant surgeons, eighteen volunteers, mostly mounted, of whom three were officers, one the Magistrate of Gházípur and one a veterinary surgeon. The twenty-five Highlanders he had borrowed from Gházípur he left at Baksar to take the first opportunity of returning to their station. His total force, it will thus be seen, amounted only to 220 men and three guns. With that he set out, on the 31st of July, to attempt a task which had already, less than forty-eight hours before, though he knew it not, baffled 430 officers and men.
The news which reached him, on the night of the 31st, at his first halting ground of the defeat of Dunbar's party had no effect upon Eyre and his men. They pushed on all the next day without seeing any enemy, and bivouacked for the night at the village of Gujrájganj, some six miles from Árah. After marching a mile the next morning the rebels appeared in great numbers, occupying a wood which Eyre and his men must traverse. He reconnoitred their position, and then attacked them. The rebels had the advantage of numbers, and of position, and they were inspired by their defeat of Dunbar. But Eyre's first attack was so well directed and so sustained that he forced his foe to abandon his position, only however, he discovered to his vexation, to take a far stronger one about a mile in the rear. As this position was strong enough to repel a front attack, Eyre, under cover of the fire of his three guns, made a flank movement to gain the nearest point of the new railway embankment which had been constructed from Árah. The rebels, however, discovered the movement and its object, and commanding as they did the inner chord of the circle, rushed forward to gain it first, at the same time detaching Kunwar Singh's levies to harass the rear of the British. The rebels gained the decisive point first, and stationing themselves behind the trees of a wood which flanked the embankment, opened a severe musketry fire on the British as they approached. Eyre's position was now extremely critical. He must carry that wood, or be lost. Everything depended upon his coolness and self-possession; and, under difficult circumstances, no man ever gave greater evidence of the possession of both these qualities. Calmly surveying the position, he formed his men in skirmishing order, whilst his guns played upon the wood. The damage these effected was not great, as the rebels were well sheltered by the trees. Twice, indeed, they sallied forth to charge the guns, but each time they were repulsed. But they had all the advantage in musketry fire from behind shelter, and at the end of an hour Captain Hastings of the volunteers brought word to Eyre, who, having no subaltern, was obliged to stay with the guns, that the position of the Fusiliers was becoming critical. For such a state of affairs there was but one remedy — recourse to that splendid weapon which, wielded by British hands, has never failed. The order was given to close up and charge. Promptly was it executed. Led on one flank by L'Estrange, on the other by Hastings, the men of the 5th closed up, and rushing forward with a cheer, cleared the brook which separated them from the wood, and dashed at the enemy. The rebels did not stand to meet the encounter; they gave way in tumultuous disorder. Eyre pushed rapidly on after them, hoping to reach Árah that night, but he was stopped on the way by an impassable torrent. He spent the whole night in improvising a causeway. Over this, in the early morning, he passed his troops and his guns, and an hour later had the gratification of rescuing from their danger the gallant garrison which, for eight days, had successfully defied an enemy fifty times more numerous than themselves.
The rebels, meanwhile, had fled to Jagdíspur, the stronghold of Kunwar Singh. Thither Eyre, who was not the man to consider a task completed so long as anything remained to be accomplished, followed them on the 11th of August, and stormed and captured it the following day.
Such was the man, and such was the deed which changed the despair of the British residents of Western Bihár into triumph. Eyre, descending apparently from the clouds, had turned defeat into victory, despair into rejoicings. The Government acted precisely as governments without a backbone will always act. The action of the victorious Eyre was upheld. But his companion in pluck and energy, William Tayler, who had, despite, his transcendent services, become obnoxious to the Calcutta clique, was removed from his office and ruined, avowedly because at a critical period, before Eyre had redeemed Dunbar's disaster, and when it seemed certain that the rebels would overrun the province, he had advised concentration at Patná of the resources in men and money of the province. The same Government took the opportunity to reward an officer serving under Mr Tayler, Mr Alonzo Money, for a theatrical display which was really damaging to the interests of the country. This gentleman had left his station for Patná, but had repented and returned to it. Then taking advantage of the arrival of a company of British troops, he marched with them and the contents of the treasury, not to Patná, which was near, and where they were wanted, but to Calcutta, which was more than 300 miles distant, and where they were not wanted — this, too, at a time when Havelock was earnestly crying out for more soldiers.
Eyre left Árah for Allahábád on the 20th of August. The failure of the Government to disarm the three regiments had thus wasted a month at the most critical period of the operations in the vicinity of Kánhpur. But the mischief done to the British cause was not entirely represented by that loss of time. The disturbances in Western Bihár continued. They kept for some time in the province troops who were required in the North-west, nor were they entirely suppressed until a very late period of the following year.
But by this time fresh troops are pouring into Calcutta; a new Commander-in-Chief has arrived to displace Sir Patrick Grant; Sir James Outram, appointed to command the united Dánápur and Kánhpur divisions, is on his way to Allahábád; Captain Peel and Captain Sotheby are forming naval brigades from the crews of the Shannon and the Pearl; the Residency of Lakhnao is still holding out; Agra, after a calamity, which will have to be recorded, is in a state of siege; the British troops before Dehlí are holding their position on the ridge; Sir John Lawrence is despatching from the Panjáb Nicholson, with a compact force, to join them; Lord Elphinstone is bearing himself bravely at Bombay, Lord Harris in Madras, Sir Bartle Frere in Sind; there have been disturbances in Rájpútáná and in the dominions of Holkar; Mahárájá Sindhiá remains loyal, but his troops are gathering against the English at Kalpí. The situation is on the whole more hopeful than it was in June and July, because it is more defined. The wiser statesmen have recognised that the real enemies of the British are the sipáhís and the populations of the North-western Provinces, of Bundelkhand, of Rohilkhand, and of Oudh. To crush these the recently arrived resources of Great Britain must be directed. But, first of all, it is incumbent to attempt the relief of the Residency of Lakhnao, too long delayed by the action of the Calcutta Government, recorded in this chapter. I must, then, return to Kánhpur.