Cawnpore, 1857

No memorial of the heroes of the Indian Mutiny would
be complete which did not give some account of the men,
women and children who suffered, fought or died at Cawnpur.
Those of them who may not be designated heroes were
veritable martyrs. Cawnpur lies on the right bank of the Ganges,
270 miles south-east from Delhi, 684 from Calcutta by land, 954
by water; from Allahabad, some 120 miles: it is the principal
town in the Doab, which lies between the Ganges and the Jumna.
The cantonments, quite distinct from the native city,
were extended along the bank of the river six miles from northwest to south-east and contained an area of about ten square
miles. Here hundreds of little white bungalows, the homes of the
officers and their families, stood in their three-acre compounds
or gardens, each surrounded by a low and crumbling mound and
ditch, or hedge of prickly pear.
Forest trees abounded and gave a pleasant shade—each
regiment had its own bazaar, whether the men lived in the
barracks or under canvas. On higher ground stood the church
and assembly rooms; farther on was the theatre for amateur
performances, and a cafe.
In the officers' gardens vegetables of all kinds thrived,
while peaches and melons, limes, oranges and custard apples
formed a healthy addition to the diet. In summer, Cawnpur is
one of the hottest stations in India; in winter, water will freeze in
shallow pans if left out at night.
Boating on the river, horse-racing, polo and billiards
were the chief amusements. In the dry season the Ganges is
about five hundred yards wide, but in the rains it swells to more
than a mile across: it is navigable for boats of light draught down to the sea, or one thousand miles: while upstream one can travel
by boat for three hundred miles.
The ghaut, or landing-place, is usually the spot where
strange creatures congregate—traders, hucksters, fakirs, beggars
of all kinds.
A bridge of boats constructed by the Government was
open to all who wished to pass over into, or from, the province
of Oudh: a small toll being charged for the upkeep. Hundreds of
vessels with thatched roofs were moored! near the shore, looking
like a swaying village, while country boats like stacks adrift
were constantly being urged up or down by their smoking and
singing rowers.
The native city, closely packed in teeming huts and
houses, contained sixty thousand inhabitants, having only one
wide street or boulevard, called the Chandnee Choke, or Silver
Street. This name dates from the time when there were no banks,
and natives who possessed capital were fain to convert it into
fantastic belts and rings, and hang their wealth for security about
the ears and ankles of their families: this street abounds in the
shops of silversmiths.
The city swarmed with cut-throats escaped from smaller
cities after they had murdered and robbed some industrious and
saving countryman.
Of course the city goal was tolerably full of the worst
specimens of humanity, poisoners and adepts in the fine art of
strangling and stabbing. We must now give a short account of
the two men who are notorious for having urged the mutineers to
make war upon our women and children. Nana Sahib, as he is
usually called, was the adopted son of Bajee Rao, who had been
Peishwa of Poonah, and the last of the Mahratta kings.
The Government at Calcutta had dethroned the Peishwa
for his repeated acts of treachery, confiscated his lands and made
him live at Bithoor, twelve miles up river from Cawnpur. Here
he resided in princely state near the banks of the sacred Ganges,