On November 9th, Campbell crosses the river and comes up against an advance guard of fifteen hundred sepoys. The odds are too uneven. After decimating them, he moves on to Alambagh, where a small English garrison is still stationed.
It is from this base, located five miles from Lucknow, that on November 14th he decides to launch the attack.
Meanwhile, in the capital, Rajahs Jai Lal and Man Singh—another great rajah of Awadh—are preparing their defence.
The first clashes take place around Dilkusha Palace, the “Heart’s Delight,” modelled on an English manor. It is in the vicinity of La Martiniere College, where students and professors are prepared to fight alongside the sepoys. Once again, British firepower defeats the light artillery and the muskets, forcing the Indian troops to retreat. A company will stay put, sacrificing their lives to cover their comrades’ escape.
The following day, Campbell’s advance guard swoops down on Sikander Bagh, a palace built by King Wajid Ali Shah for the pretty Sikander when she was his favourite wife. Surrounded by six-metre-high walls flanked by graceful turrets, the palace stands on the path leading to the Residency.
Rajah Jai Lal immediately dispatches his men to counter the enemy advance, but they only have rifles against the heavy artillery and the latest English weaponry: mobile launchers.86 This is the first time these multiple-fire cannons are used in India, and they spread terror in the rebel ranks.
The battle rages on. The British manage to penetrate into the garden, cornering the insurgents, who fight back desperately. There are even women fighting on the Indian side.
During the attack, one of them manages to conceal herself in a tall leafy tree under which jars of cool water are placed. When the battle is over, some soldiers go there to rest in the shade and quench their thirst. Suddenly, the sight of a number of corpses lying under the tree attracts an officer’s attention. After examining the wounds, he realises that someone has shot them from above. Detecting a figure hidden amidst the leaves, he fires. A body, dressed in a fitted jacket and a pair of pink silk trousers, tumbles down. To his astonishment, he realises it is a young woman. Armed with two old pistols, she had managed to kill more than half a dozen men from her hiding place.
Not one of the three thousand Indian fighters at Sikander Bagh survives. Dawn breaks over piles of corpses, many still dressed in their old red uniforms.
The British advance continues. One of the last positions on the path leading to the Residency is Shah Najaf, the superb mausoleum erected for the first king of Awadh and his favourite wives. The confrontations last all afternoon; the British suffer such severe losses that the 93rd Highlanders division is ordered to retreat when, by chance, they discover a narrow passageway behind the mausoleum. One by one, the soldiers sneak in; the Indian defenders find themselves caught between two lines of fire: in front of them, intense cannon fire, behind them, the “devils in skirts,” who pounce on them.
When evening falls, Shah Najaf’s lawns and flowerbeds are strewn with bodies. In order to avoid an outbreak of cholera, the British begin burning bodies, although some are only wounded . . . The night air is filled with the moans of the dying, begging to be shot.
The following morning, the last buildings close to the Residency are taken in hand-to-hand combat with bayonets, and in the early afternoon, the British army reaches the Bailey Gate, where the besieged captives go into raptures welcoming them.
With all these troops reunited, Generals Havelock and Outram have every intention of moving into Kaisarbagh, subjugating Lucknow and being done with the begum and her associates once and for all. To their great disappointment, Sir Colin categorically refuses. He has lost six hundred men and considers his remaining troops to be just sufficient to secure the evacuation of the Residency.
It is to take place on November 19th.
That evening, a first column of palanquins loaded with about five hundred women and children leaves the Residency and the town of Lucknow without any impediments. The garrison is to be evacuated within three days. During the night, in total silence, the hundreds of wounded are borne away on stretchers, protected by armed civilians and soldiers. Sir Colin has set up a diversionary operation to distract the Indians’ attention: Kaisarbagh is heavily bombarded by cannon fire in order to give the impression of an impending attack. Inside the palace, the women scream in terror and part of the terrified garrison is about to flee. The regent then summons the leaders:
“You can leave. I am staying,” she declares. “However, as I do not want to be taken alive by the enemy, I would ask you to cut off my head before you leave.”*
In the face of this woman’s determination, the soldiers lower their eyes, ashamed of their own cowardice and, in a surge of pride, declare themselves ready to fight beside her.
Meanwhile, the long British convoy of four thousand men with horses and carts has reached the Gomti River. The only passage is a stone bridge, and despite the bombing and the darkness, the guards cannot possibly miss their crossing. They instantly sound the alert.
Informed in the dead of night, the regent does not seem particularly surprised:
“I was expecting it,” she replies to the officer who had hurried to warn her.
“I will sound the call to arms immediately for the troops to stop them!”
“No, let them go.”
“Pardon me?”
“Our objective is not to kill them. Our objective is to drive them out. If they themselves choose to leave and our country is thus rid of the last Angrez, so much the better! What more do you want?”
“Are we not going to avenge our dead . . . ?”
“For every British person slain, we have lost at least ten men! Do you not think it is enough? Furthermore, I refuse to attack a column of refugees with hundreds of their wounded. I am not Nana Sahib. And Rajah Jai Lal, the head of the army, shares my point of view. Do not insist. My decision is irrevocable: these people will leave in peace.”
The population celebrates the evacuation of the Residency as a great victory: all the British have left Awadh, except for Outram and a detachment of two thousand soldiers, who have remained to guard the Alambagh stronghold. The Indians boast that those, too, will soon be expelled.
There is a general mood of optimism, all the more so as they have just learnt of Tantia Tope’s victory over General Windham and of the recapture of Kanpur. The possibility of liberating the towns of Benares and Allahabad, which had belonged to Awadh before the disastrous Treaty of 1801, is discussed elatedly. Begum Hazrat Mahal even has the generals summoned to ask them to draw up a plan. Now nothing seems impossible!
28
The recapture of Kanpur is to be short-lived. By mid-December, the town is in British hands again.
Nana Sahib, who has a price on his head, has fled; his whereabouts remain unknown.
As for his advisor, Azimullah Khan, no one has seen him. Since his body was not found on the battlefield, it is presumed he followed the Nana in his flight. However, Hazrat Mahal has her doubts: this is not consistent with his character. She has only met Azimullah once but remains convinced that while the man is capable of cruelty and cynicism, he is above all a nationalist, and will go to any extreme to free his country. Not being able to influence his terrified master any longer, it is likely Azimullah has left him in order to pursue the battle on his own terms. This brilliant, unscrupulous character’s preferred area of expertise is not armed warfare, even though one must admit he is endowed with unusual self-control—it is claimed he smokes cigars on the battlefield while bombs explode all around him!—his speciality is the art of conspiracy and he excels at it.
During the following months, rumour has it that Azimullah Khan was spotted in Hyderabad with the rebel officers, then in Jodhpur, Poona and various other towns of central India, where the population is growing restless. As if by chance, wherever he goes, uprisings quickly break out. It is even whispered that
he was arrested in Bhopal, but soon released, as the begum there had no desire to have Nana Sahib’s protégé executed and to upset the man who may well be the next peishwa.
For his part, General Tantia Tope has been driven out of Kanpur and, as he can no longer count on Nana Sahib, he has decided to return to central India, his homeland, accompanied by Rao Sahib, his master’s nephew. He has every intention of instigating a rebellion there amongst the Mahrattas.
Nonetheless, in Lucknow, the regent and her high command are worried.
During this month of January 1858, they are expecting another attack, much worse than the previous ones, as they know General Campbell has received large numbers of reinforcements from England, now on their way to Awadh.
Hazrat Mahal has undertaken the fortification of Lucknow. Fifteen thousand men are busy erecting bulwarks all around the town, except to the north, where the Gomti River acts as a natural barrier. Barricades are put up in every street and every alley, the main buildings are reinforced and every house is fitted with firing slots.
The trenches around Kaisarbagh have been filled with water from the Gomti and the army has established three lines of defence. The palaces have been transformed into veritable fortresses with bastions at every corner, the largest of which now houses the Armed Forces High Command; they are defended by one hundred and twenty-seven cannons.
If, in spite of all these preparations, the main fortifications were still to be wiped out, the resistance is to continue in the town centre, and old muskets have been distributed to the inhabitants. As always, though, ammunition is in short supply. To remedy this, the sepoys show great ingenuity. They invent a thousand ways of making shells: clay shells filled with iron filings, shells made of enormous wooden cylinders, stone shells, or even jute bags stuffed with shrapnel and gunpowder—all these equipped with improvised detonators. Old women are also paid to venture beyond the ramparts to collect stray bullets.
The regent is present on all fronts. Mounted on the royal elephant, she visits every construction site to encourage the men and to ensure ration distributions are sufficient. Many, in fact, have nothing left to eat. Ever since the fields were burnt by the enemy army, cereals are difficult to come by and expensive. And so she has appointed a leader for each area to make sure that no one starves to death, and she has ordered, if necessary, to confiscate food from the rich to feed the poor.
She has also summoned the bankers to request a two million rupee loan, which they have flatly refused. But with skilful negotiating, proffering in turn threats and promises, she has managed to obtain a first instalment. It is far from sufficient, as no matter how loyal the soldiers are, they have to be paid. They cannot fight on empty stomachs, nor can they allow their families to die of hunger. Hazrat Mahal then decides to have her jewellery and all her gold and silver ornaments melted down. Despite the begums’ indignant cries, she compels them to do the same. Out of the money thus obtained, she secretly sets aside a small war chest to finance her diplomatic actions.
The first will be to bring in, incognito, an Indian officer stationed in Kanpur, where there are still four native regiments under British command. Embarrassed, the officer attempts to explain the specific circumstances that prevented his regiments from joining the rebellion, but the Queen Mother interrupts him smoothly:
“I understand, Khan Sahib. It is however inconceivable that your soldiers and mine, Indians, brothers, slaughter each other!”
“I must admit, Huzoor, that my men and I feel trapped. We loathe the idea of fighting against our own, but at the slightest sign of indiscipline, we will be hung immediately.”
“So why not order your troops to fire blanks? We will of course do the same.”
“Yes, but afterwards? We will be executed for mutiny!”
“There will be no afterwards. Your sepoys will fire blanks and promptly join our ranks to fire at the British, with real bullets this time!”
The begum has finally been able to convince her visitor. They review the last details together, and a sum of one thousand rupees to be shared with his men seals the agreement.
Every day, Hazrat Mahal is busy from dawn to dusk, organising and mobilising everyone around her, but when she returns home exhausted, she has other problems to contend with. The begums in their Kaisarbagh Palace have formed a united front against her. The confiscation of their jewels had been the last straw. Their jealousy and irritation had been mounting for some time now, given the new Queen Mother’s power; after all, she was only the fourth wife, and, moreover, from a humble background!
Mir Wajid Ali, the ammunition factory’s former director, suspected by some to be loyal to the British, has fanned the flames. Frightening the women with descriptions of the enemy’s victories, the power of their cannons and their own camp’s weak points, he has managed to persuade them that their new regent is incompetent, and of the danger of leaving decision-making power in her hands. Under his influence, a strong protest movement has flourished within the palace, with the women tirelessly picking fights and attempting to undermine the regent’s authority.
Despite the fact that Hazrat Mahal tries to convince herself this is only inconsequential jealousy, and that she is above these petty intrigues, she cannot help but feel hurt by these cruel attacks. Fortunately there is Mumtaz! She has had a room near hers renovated for her friend, and they spend long moments together.
Even though Mumtaz is a comfort to her, she can hardly advise her on political matters. Hazrat Mahal misses the lengthy discussions with Jai Lal. She would so love to have him next to her as before; he who always knows what to do, while she, riddled with anxiety, hesitates, asking herself a thousand questions. His fortitude and decisive mind fascinate her. He reassures her when she has doubts, and his confidence and admiration give her the energy to move forward.
She looks for opportunities to meet him. In this Court, where no one can be trusted, Jai Lal’s presence, his warm voice, his smile, have become indispensable to her.
Yet, the rajah remains on the defensive. He realises that the young woman is trying to revive their former relationship, but then there was only mutual friendship and admiration between them, whereas now . . . He knows he cares for her as he has never cared for any other woman. But what about her? What does she feel for him? She is so unpredictable . . . alternating between aloofness and charm for no apparent reason . . . He has no desire to give in to her yet again. Did he not see her flirting with Prince Firoz the other day?
How could he guess that Firoz Shah is the least of the begum’s concerns?
* * *
General Frank’s troops, reinforced by the Gurkhas provided by Jung Bahadur, Nepal’s prime minister and the country’s strong man, constitute Sir Campbell’s vanguard. They march towards Awadh, conquering towns after hard-won battles, but the moment the Nepalese leave, the Indians launch further attacks and free them again. They harass the British army all along the route. Never admitting defeat, they incessantly renew their offensives and recapture the lost positions every time.
For General Frank, the objective is not to pacify Awadh—that would require far more troops—but to reach Lucknow. His forces make good progress supported by the Gurkhas—small, stocky warriors of legendary cruelty. They must absolutely be stopped before the panic-stricken population of Awadh flees before them. The begum’s high command decides to send a dozen regiments to counter their advance.
The sepoys have gone only a few miles when a horseman, riding at breakneck speed, catches up with them. He brings a message from Maulvi Ahmadullah Shah:
“Turn back! You have been deceived! The begum and the Court party want to keep you away while they negotiate the town’s surrender to the British. Return immediately to prevent this treason! It is a sacred order from God’s vice regent, whom you must obey!”
The men hesitate; they have sworn allegiance to the young king and the Queen Mother, but they are impressed by t
he maulvi: he is a brave warrior and a holy man. Why would he trick them? After a long discussion, they decide to turn around and return to the capital.87
The incident stirs up a hornet’s nest and sparks off an open crisis. When accused, Ahmadullah Shah replies by publicly contesting the begum’s and the “turbaned group’s”88 authority, and he threatens to proclaim himself king.
His troops and the begum’s confront each other in a series of skirmishes, until on January 7th, the two sides fight each other in a real pitched battle. It has already been underway for several hours and has caused about two hundred deaths when the regent herself appears, interrupting the battle. And from her palanquin, with blazing eyes, she chastises the fighters:
“Have you gone mad? The enemy is at our doorstep and instead of protecting the population, you are killing each other! How could I have ever trusted you?”
The fighting stops. At the regent’s reprimand, the men lower their heads in embarrassment. Seeing this, she relents:
“Go home and preserve your strength to defend your town and your families against the Angrez. I am counting on your loyalty and your courage.”
Amidst these internal conflicts, the commander-in-chief of the Indian army, Sir Colin Campbell, renews his offensive against Awadh. He would have preferred to wait until autumn and first put down the revolts, which are constantly breaking out in the surrounding areas, but politically, Lucknow remains a priority.
“All eyes in India are trained on Awadh, as they were on Delhi,” Lord Canning writes to him from Calcutta. “It is the sepoys’ last rallying point, the focus of all their hopes, the only centre that still represents a dynasty. The native leaders have been waiting the last two years to see if we are capable of retaining what we captured, in order to draw their conclusions.”*