“The original of this account in Madeline Jackson's own handwriting, was sent by her son Mountstuart, to Alice, (Lady Jackson) in the Argentine, in September, 1924 - by M.H.J”
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As my life has been remarkable for its wonderful preservation during the Mutiny and the papers I wrote about it seem to be lost, I am writing this for my sons. They will be interested in many little things they would not know otherwise.
To begin, my first recollections are at Maidstone where my Father's Regiment, the 4th Light Dragoons, were quartered; the nurse taking us to a review, and the Soldiers calling me the “Captains Little Lady” and a sentry picking me up, I was so small, aged three I think, I was always tumbling down when I ran; my next sister Julia, was carried. Next as a happy child in Germany, out for a walk with my Father and Mother, each holding a hand. We soon lost dear Father. My sister Mona, was born a month before his death in Heidelberg, where he is buried. His body was moved to the new Cemetery. His name in the book is in German, ‘Ritter K. Alexander Jackson’; an odd translation for ‘Sir Keith Alexander Jackson, Bart’.
My Grand-Mama came to my Mama and we went to Boulogne, then to my Grand-Mama's house, Glen Cottage, Walmer, in Kent, where we lived a quiet governess' life till I was about fourteen.
The Duke of Wellington when living at Walmer Castle, used to call us children in, take us round the gardens carrying my youngest sister Mona on his shoulder, - gave us fruit for our Grandmama. He gave us each shillings or sovereigns with a hole pierced through and a ring and a blue ribbon to remember him by.
Then my Mother took Georgie and me to Paris. I was always with Georgie (Georgina, her sister); we went to French Schools, till we two were sent to India. We went round the Cape, as we were both delicate and it was thought good for us. We were four months and a week on the way, in one of Mr Green's ships, the ‘King Alfred’. We got to Calcutta in February on Georgie's birthday, and I was seventeen and a half. William Grey and Cecil Beadon (cousins) met us and took us to Mr and Mrs Ferguson's house at Alipore.
Cockerall, another cousin we were going to, had not yet come from Hooghly. That Alipore house I afterwards stayed in with my husband's sister, Kate Montresor, and my eldest son, Mountstuart, was born there. I remember thinking it most delightfully airy and pretty with its big rooms and verandahs and white matted floors. The next morning, before anyone was up, I went to explore the garden which was more like a park. I often amused my children telling them of my first day there, how I got drenched with the dew instantly. Then I was half afraid to pass a vulture which sat on a tree and looked at me, - next I nearly trod on a snake; the snake ran one way and I another, we both turned and looked at each other and the snake disappeared and I thought I had better get home again. Of course I had to dress again and every one laughed at breakfast at my adventures. We were not long in Calcutta. We went to a Ball and were Ellen Bellis's brides maids (another cousin).
Then we went to Hooghly with Alice Cockerall (nee Jackson) and started from there in “palkee gharries”(covered wagon for women in purdah) to go to our Uncle Coverley Jackson and his wife. He met us at Allahabad I think - I only remember one amusing adventure. We had some horse that would lie down, so we got out to see if there were any flowers, in a kind of sandy desert - when suddenly the horses started off. We called and ran but it was some time before we could stop the carriage. We also went across a river which seemed miles of sand, on planks laid down, with bullocks to pull the carriages; a bridge is there now, - it was a peculiar river to the English eyes, with only a strip of water which we crossed on a ferry and would be a torrent in the rains. We stopped at one or two places and at last to Agra where my Uncle was Commissioner, and lived in a house that had been a tomb, we were told, - and had a fountain in the middle room. We had beautiful upper rooms prettily got up for us with white muslin curtains, lined up with pink ribbons. Mrs Coverley Jackson was very kind. Capt. and Mrs Townsend Hungerford (cousins) were in Agra, also Dr. and Mrs Grant (she was Aunt Elizabeth), Lady Hayes' daughter, and Townsend Hungerford was my future husband's uncle. Uncle Coverley got us a nice little flea-bitten Arab, which we rode by turns, before sunrise, or one got burnt. We often went to see the lovely Taj Mahal, by daylight, and lit up.
In a few months we went to Lucknow, on our way we had a dust storm, fortunately we were in a dark bungalow. We saw the storm coming, red in the distance, - in a second it was pitch dark and one was eating dust, in a minute or two it was over and all the leaves and mangoes were off the trees, and from great heat it was shivering cold.
Lucknow was much nicer than Agra. Uncle Coverley Jackson (acting Governor of Outh, while Sir Laurence was away) was Chief Commissioner, and Mountstuart (my brother) came out in the Indian Civil Service and was a great favourite. There were plenty of dances and parties, reviewing the troops, races, riding, fetes to see the native palaces and gateways, illuminations etc. Then Mrs Coverley's little girl got ill and she took her to the hills and then to England. Uncle Coverley and a large party went for a tour through Oudh. Mountstuart was appointed to Seetapore and went to get his house ready, as we were going to stay with him. We saw some lovely places on the tour, but it was cut short; official papers did not reach us as the country had been in a disaffected state for some time, so we had to hurry back to Lucknow.
Then Sir Henry Laurence returned, and my Uncle Coverley went to England and I and my sister went to Seetapore. There we lived a most happy life for about four months. At first we stayed with Mr and Mrs Christian, ‘til our house was ready, such a nice little bungalow, with a big garden, and our pets which Uncle C had mostly given us, - our Arab, two spotted deer, one we had brought up with milk, - two gazelles, two spotted Barbary goats, and an Argus pheasant, a mynah, a green hill pheasant, green doves and chicaws; we had two white bullocks, to irrigate the garden, and my brother had a buggy and horse and his Arab. I had a dear little white puppy given to me later.
All this time rumours of disturbances were going on. One poor fellow was sent on duty from our camp, and was the first killed - Capt Boileau, and I think my sister was engaged to him. Then in May, I think, Meerut mutinied, and we all got ready though all the Officers were quite sure their regiments were faithful. However, everybody, civilians too, went about armed and it was settled that should there be an outbreak all should go to Mr Christian's house. Mr Christian tried to get elephants to send the ladies and children to Lucknow on; unsuccessfully: we had dreaded going so, and leaving Mountstuart, and I think all preferred staying with their husbands and brothers.
At last one morning, the 2nd June, we had just had prayers and were at breakfast, when Mr Christian came in an told us another place had mutinied and the Sepoys were marching on Seetapore, that all ladies were to go to his house and that the men were to defend a bridge which the mutineers must cross. A number of extra men had been enrolled and drilled, and we had native police. They turned out worse than the rest: and all the Troops in cantonments, some way from us, mutinied that day, 2nd June 1857.
Against such heaps of natives what could our few Englishmen do! Mr Christian's house was full of women and children - one poor fellow, English, came in to have his arm dressed, Mrs C's nurse, looking ghastly, did it. Then all the Englishmen rushed in, saying native police and soldiers had all turned against us and they had fought their way back to the house.
Then the confusion was dreadful: people could not find their husbands. Mrs Christian was crying, my dear sister was trying to comfort her. They all came in and our brother had not come. I asked Mr Christian where he was. Poor man, he could not answer. At last Mountstuart came - the last in. The house was barricaded, and they fired through holes, but the natives were breaking in, and we got out at the jungle side. Everyone had been told to try to get to a native's palace who was known to favour us - the Rajah of Mithowlee. Well, only half of a French window could be got open, and everyone was forcing their way through, regardless of anyone else. That was how we lost Georgie. I had been trying to get my puppy, but Mountstuart called me and I kept tight hold of his hand, though my arm felt as though it was breaking; - or I should have lost him too. Two or three horses were tied up outside, I did not see anyone take them.
Directly we were out we ran across an open plain towards the jungle thinking my sister was with us. Then I noticed an extraordinary whistling sound round us and stopped. I had never been out in the middle of the day before, and thought it had something to do with the sun! - and said “What's that?”. My brother quietly answered “The bullets”. Then I got frightened, said “Oh, we must not stop here” and pulled him on with me, but after a second stopped, noticing Georgie was not with us. Looking back, we saw her with Mrs Christian's English nurse trying to quiet the baby, and cover it from the sun. She was looking at us too, I think, but was so short-sighted could not have seen us, and it was the last time I saw her, my dear sister. We went towards her, but a lot of Sepoys (native soldiers) came between us and we could not get to her and had to cross the bridge. We seemed the only ones who did, or perhaps were the last, as Sepoys were taking shots at us, - and they filled the bridge and fired down the river which others were going through, my sister and Mrs Greene among them, as we heard from her afterwards, in a letter from Naineetal Woods. We ran on and met Mr and Mrs Thornhill and their little girl. They told us they had seen Georgie and Mrs Greene across the river, so we hoped to get to her again.
Then we saw half a dozen men pursuing us, shooting now and then. Turning as fast as we could, I ran into a thorn bush and my white muslin dress was caught tight. Poor Mountstuart threw himself on the bush to tear it off me and I watched all the colour leave his face as the thorns ran into him. He suffered very much for this afterwards.
We ran on and thought we had got away from our pursuers when we saw them on the other side of the ravine. We got down it to hide from their shots, and the last we saw of the poor Thornhills was him hiding his wife and child in a cleft in the rocks and standing in front to cover them. We heard afterwards they were not killed there, but lower down the river. We crossed through the river and called them to follow us. I lost my shoes in it and fell on my face, - and the pistol got wet. They were firing at us and one shot I looked to see if my arm was hurt - it felt like it - but was not touched. We had to climb a steep bank and the men yelled and fired. We just went on quite slowly, our running was over, and we thought the poor Thornhills must be getting killed there. We went through bushes and trees and one took my hat off, and I did not take it again. A little further on we sat down in a nook. I pulled off the muslin skirt which had been such trouble, and we sat behind bushes with our gun and pistol ready, listening - no-one was following.
I remember thinking how lovely the jungle was and said to my brother “I couldn't bear to be killed!” He said “How could one bear to live with such horrors going on?” We sat there a long time. Then some men came, not Sepoys, - parsees, with bows and arrows. They used to be watchmen I think. They saw my dress, and were evidently pitying the poor murdered people; we kept still, - and asked them to help us. They said they would take us to a better place, which they did, and would come back at night and show us where to go - and got us some water. Later on they came back and took us further into the jungle where we stopped till the middle of the night, when they seemed to think it would be safe to go on. First one man gave me a sheet to look more like a native. We passed on the outskirts of the jungle and saw one of our bungalows burning. Natives seemed to be dancing around it and a horrible noise was going on. The parsee told us everybody had been killed, and pitied them.
They told us that Mr and Mrs Christian and the baby were killed. He was shot and she sat down crying - and they cut off her head. (I had seen her act in the Blue Beard saying “and will you cut off my head” and shivering so naturally) - and the poor baby they took on a spear and threw into the river. It was horrible, - and we heard the jackals. She was very tall and graceful and sweet and they were both so kind to us. We walked on and I was dreadfully tired and my feet hurt, and it was not always grass and I had lost my shoes - so my dear brother took his boots off and make me put them on. We fastened leaves round his feet with strips of handkerchief. Then the men said we were near a village and they got us something to eat. We had had nothing since breakfast, and of course we had no money - one never carried it about much in India, so we gave them the pistol, and we sat down and slept from sheer fatigue.
It was a lovely moonlight night and the jungle was beautiful. They came back with some big elephant chapatties, we thought, but found out afterwards it was their usual food with ghee or something on them. We ate and went on, the men talking among themselves.
At last Mountstuart, stopping to tie more leaves on his feet, I held his gun, and one of the men came and took it from me, politely pretending he would hold it for me. I could not keep it, and then he refused to give it back, so we had given them the pistol for food, and the sword, which was a Lucknow one, for showing us the way - and we now had no arms, and soon, having got possession of all we had they said they would come no further, at which Mountstuart expostulated. After a good deal of talk, one tall man drew his bow aiming at him, saying we must go on by ourselves. I stepped in front of Mountstuart stretching my arms over him and the man lowered his arrow to my heart. I didn't like it but laughed and turned my face to Mountstuart. He said he supposed we must go alone and the men went back to the village.
We tried to guide ourselves by the stars. Once we came to a high road and heard Sepoys and went into the jungle again. We were so tired we had to lie down. I remember we knelt first and then actually slept. Waking we went on and hid in some bushes, as it was day, but we were soon found by a lot of villagers, who brought their headman, who made us go into the jungle, took my brother's watch and links, though they said the latter were not gold. They were my father's. They all had swords. They said they would guide him (my brother) to Lucknow, but wanted me to stay as I could not walk so far. We refused. They said they would kill us. The headman said he would let us drink some water first and took us near the river and told Mountstuart to drink. We were frightfully thirsty so he went. The man would not let me go too, but as it was close by, I did not mind, till the man put his arm round me. I put away, saying “Don't be afraid I shall not run away”. Then he put his hands together and begged me to stay. I did not understand until one word which means ‘wife’ enlightened me. I screamed "Mountstuart", and he rushed back and I told him. The man looked very sorry. I touched his sword and said “Kill us”, at which he shook his head.
Then we heard others coming and he told us to run, which we did, down to the river and straight across it. It was not very broad or deep. I think Mountstuart forded it, but I fell and he pulled me through. I thought how happy it would be if we might both drown in it. We got out at the other side, and went along the bank till we found we were going back to the village. So we turned and went the other way till noon-day by the sun, till we met some very poor looking men who seemed sorry for us. By then I was so afraid of being seen that I covered my face with the cloth, which was not clean, till Mountstuart said I need not. They said they would guide us to some other people, which they did. These were Lieutenant Burnes, Sergent Major Morton, a fair man who had lost his wife at Seetapore, and poor Sophy Christian, who knew me and cried to come to me directly she saw me. Lt. Burnes told me he was the last man out of the house and found Mrs Christian trying to carry Sophy and crying, "Oh save my child; who will save my child!" He took her and saw Sergent Morton just crossing the river on horse so gave the child to him. The horse was shot and he and the child thrown into the river. Lt. Burnes helped them out. They had had their guns taken from them.
We went on much faster with guides and had to wade through another river. Mountstuart helped me; at last I was so tired and sat down and cried, and said they must leave me I could go no further. Well, they helped me on, and got me a pony on which I sat all that day and night, aching so terribly, and carrying the child. I begged them to let me lie down, but of course we could not stop as we were still pursued.
Once we came across some Sepoys and had almost to crawl over open places for fear of being seen. Before the pony was got, little Sophy cried so for me to carry her; she was almost three, and big, and I couldn't, so had to hold her hand to stop her crying, while one of the others carried her, one poor little arm was all burnt and festered from the sun, though they had got a cloth and covered her all over as they thought.
Early on the morning of the 4th we got to the outskirts of Lonee Singh's place, Mithowlie. The villagers and a lot of horrid looking men came around us with knives and sticks, shouting “Mardalle”, “Kill them”, and stopped my pony and said we should not go on to the Fort.
Lt. Burnes lifted me and child off; and we just went on as fast as we could, not running. A guide came with us taking us the longest way; we walked on the top of a dike kind of place, of grass with a very high bamboo hedge, like a wall round the Fort, on one side quite impenetrable. At last we got to the gateway, a lot of people rushed up saying we should not go in, and our only chance was to get in and see the Rajah.
The big gates were shut in our faces, a postern gate in it was still open, and Lt. Burnes rushed through. My brother and I tried to follow. It was too dreadful seeing one man fighting his way alone - but the little gate was shut and we heard a horrid scrimmage within. The crowd outside jabbered but did nothing - one woman brought water for little Sophy.
After a time the gates were opened, and some head people came and told us to come in, and that the Rajah would take care of us. I was so frightened, out of my wits I think, - I thought they would kill Mountstuart and I would hardly let him move, keeping in front of him with my arms outstretched over him. Then we saw Lt. Burnes standing up leaning against a pillar looking very white with a great round spot of blood on his forehead. I thought he was dead, but he began to talk, and the Rajah, who looked in a tremendous fright, assured us he would do what he could for us, - and they got us charpoys to sit on and they brought water and fruit, and after a time took us to a kind of long hut (we heard afterwards it was the gardener's) in the garden. One side was partitioned off for Sophy and me, and we were all so exhausted we lay down and slept.
Through the gates, two sets of gates, was a beautiful garden, with a kind of white pavilion at one end. The Rajah and a lot of men were in the garden. Mountstuart called me later and they brought us something to eat. The Sergeant got some butter or ghee, and plantain leaves, and dressed our feet which were in a dreadful state with blisters and cuts. We all hobbled and could scarcely put our feet on the ground. He had dressed Lt. Burnes' wound which was a sword cut which a soldier at the gate gave him in his rush through to the inner court where he sat down and claimed protection, the native idea being, that once in, the Rajah was bound to take care of him and his party.
Well, the Rajah fed us and had white sheeting clothes made for us and told us all the news he heard, - keeping us carefully hidden; but always denied knowing anything of Capt. and Mrs Orr who we heard he was protecting.
After a few days we were sent to a small fort in the jungle belonging to him. It looked deserted and no food was brought to us till quite late, and that, we found out afterwards, was sent by Capt. Orr who was hidden in the jungle with his wife and child. They sent food once a day for some days. We did not know where it came from or what it was, as none of us had seen native food and thought it might be poison. They brought us melons too.
Then the Orrs were allowed to come into the fort. They had servants, and a tent and money, and a few plates and things, and we heard all their sad experiences.
How his place, Mahamdee, mutinied and his Sepoys protected him, holding him that he should not fight, and all other officers and their wives were killed. Capt. and Mrs Lysaght (Miss Sneyd), a cousin of my future husband’s first wife, were among them. Then they took him to Lonee Singh and promised to protect him and his wife and child. The sepoys had made him send his wife and child and servants on before.
Mr. Thomason, and others we knew well, were killed in that massacre, in a tope near Armangahad. The sepoys took them so far, then killed them all but Capt. Orr.
Both Capt. Orr and his wife spoke the language well and learnt all that was going on, and sent letters by their servants, and at last we heard that Capt. Hearsay and some others had got away from Seetapore, and that my sister and Mrs Arabella Greene were with them, and at last we got letters from my sister. How grateful we were, her letter was full of hope and courage, and Capt. Hearsay wrote too and said she was so brave and so good, - she was a great comfort to them all. She told us she got through the river with many others, and that Mrs Greene pulled her up a bank, and that they hid in the jungle till found by some men whom they begged to save their lives. They were some of Capt. Hearsay's sowards (private soldier in cavalry) he had sent to try and save fugitives, - so they took them to Capt. Hearsay who was hidden, with a sergeant, his wife and son They got away on elephants and joined some other fugitives from another station and were at that time hidden in the Rajah of Mutteeara's place and were trying to get sent to Calcutta.
We had several letters from her and Capt. Hearsay and one of her letters reached our cousin, Alice Cockerall (Mrs.) and I have a bit of it Alice gave me afterwards. They sent us some books in which she had done little sketches of the hill places they were in, somewhere near Naini Tal, and they sent us quinine. Capt. Hearsay said she kept up all their courage. Poor Mrs. Greene had lost her husband.
The last letter we got from them said they feared they where betrayed. Then we heard from natives that they were trying to escape in the Jungle - I think that was in the end of August. We heard also at the time that Lonee Singh was suspected and would have to give us up to the rebels. We never went out of the fort, which was a high stone building, with a kind of verandah, rooms round three sides. Mrs. Orr and I and the two little girls had one side, the gentlemen another, and the servants and cooking the other and a big gateway was on the fourth side and a court in the middle. We could walk on the roof of the rooms without being seen and could see nothing but the tops of one tree over us and the sky. We had native string beds, charpoys, to sleep on, and to sit on, and native dishes and food. The Orrs had only about two plates and cups and some clothes which they shared with us. The Rajah sent some food every day, but the Orrs sent a servant to buy more, and their servants cooked and kept the place tidy, and took letters in quills, or in the soles of their shoes and were most faithful.
We got letters from Capt. Hearsay's party and from Capt. Orr's two brothers, and one from Sir Henry Lawrence, I think with one to Lonee Singh offering rewards if we were safely taken to the English - someone sent a pair of boots from Lucknow for me - Mountstuart had taken leather shoes made by the natives, at least for the men and children.
We all kept fairly well while in the fort, though the heat was dreadful - we fanned ourselves with little native fans. I used to fan myself and little Sophy most of the night, in my sleep too I think. I had a lump on my hand from these fans for a long time. Mrs Orr's ayah used to fan her and their little girl. Mosquitoes were very bad too.
We were very lucky being with the Orrs as we had neither money nor servants and none of us could speak the language well. The children were a great comfort. Little Sophy called me Mama, and was a very bright clever little girl, imitated the natives most amusingly and was a great pet. She had grown quite strong too from being in the open air. There were no doors or windows except the gateway which was always shut, - the servants going through the small one. There were arches in the verandahs in which we hung purdahs to make our rooms. We ate in the shady side of the court, there were two chairs, some stools and a table. The poor men used to walk up and down for exercise like tigers in a den.
Captain Orr used to get Lonee Singh and his people over and have talks with them and hear all that was going on.
We did not hear of any other fugitives about except one English woman. They said she was mad and dying, that they were afraid of her and put food and water for her to take. We could not find out who she was or where she came from, nor could we get her.
We used to hear of all the fights and after the Sepoys had left and gone to besiege the Residency in Lucknow, the Rajah sent us all into the jungle, saying they were searching his places for us. (Mrs. Orr's narrative dated this 6th day August).
The Orrs had a tent, which Mrs Orr and I and the little girls used, and grass roofs were built between trees over the men's beds, Capt Orr had a bad illness - a creature got into his ear. He was delirious, and we thought he was dying, but he got over it. Then Mountstuart got fever - then we had to move to another place and we all got fever and ague. I had a wonderful dream or vision, fort was not asleep, which might have shown me I was not to die then, but we were all afraid of life then.
While we were in the jungle there was a beautiful total eclipse of the sun - we watched it through smoked glass and reflected in tubs of water. The effect in the forest was lovely, every leaf threw a distinct shadow like moonlight. The birds twittered and went to sleep and woke up again when the sun reappeared, and all the time the natives blew conches and beat torn-toms.
Another event was a chase after an enormous tree lizard, about five feet long and looking like a small crocodile. The natives said it was poisonous and would have killed us: Capt. Orr said it was harmless. We also often had alarms of snakes, from frogs which cried like children. Mrs. Orr, I and the children used to jump up on the chairs and stools. There were also scares of wolves and of native children being carried off by them. Little Sophy was hardly ever out of my sight, or Loui from her Mother's or ayah's. Sophy was very bad with fever. Capt. Orr shot a peacock to make soup for her: we often saw and heard flights of them. I came across a lot once dancing round each other on a plot of grass. They flew up directly they saw me, making such a whirr.
The gentlemen made draughts and used to have long games, the squares marked out on the ground. We still got letters, and wrote, partly in Greek letters, but rescue seemed far, and the natives used to say “our Raj (rule) was over”. So it was for the old East India Company. But it passed to the Queen and not the natives.
On the 20th Oct. (Mrs On- says) more Sepoys came to the Rajah, and he thinking the English would not conquer, at last made us over to the rebels. Men came who took Capt. Orr's gun, said we were to go with them, and would not let us take anything. Mrs. Orr tried to go to the tent to get money and her jewels, and I tried to go with her, but we were both pushed back.
We thought they would cut off our heads and send them into Lucknow, but at the edge of the wood we found they had/ got two native carts, each with two bullocks for us. My brother and I in one, Sophy, Loui and Mr. Burnes in the other. They were only big enough for two, and had no springs. They had top covers and side curtains to keep the sun off us. They stopped at a village and got a smith and brought out irons. Mrs. Orr and I begged them on our knees not to put them on, uselessly, and they had some for Mrs. Orr and Me, but Capt. Orr and my brother said they would take two sets each - so after a talk these two were taken away. The horrid irons were fastened round each ankle and had two chains which were tied by a string round their waist. We tore strips from our clothes to wrap around the rings which were very big, but even then they made sore places. The poor Sergeant fainted when his were put on. All day we went on, and stopped at every village, and crowds came and looked at us, and we looked at them. At night they brought a lot of straw for us to lie on and gave us food in big brown leaves. We lay down not knowing if we should ever see another day. Mrs Orr and I and the children in the middle, the others at the ends to take care of us.
I don't know how many days and nights we were going on, but one night I woke and heard them talking (the Sepoys) and saying it would be less trouble to take our heads to Lucknow. I was frightened, though we knew we might be killed at any minute, and woke Mountstuart. He did not fear, and wanted me to drink some water and get quiet. I said No, only pray for me, and we did, ‘til peace and courage came to me again. He was never frightened, only once was he uneasy. The thought would come, why was all this? Nothing comforted him till I thought of the words “Now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face” and Mountstuart said “the sufferings of this present time are not to be compared with the glory which shall be awarded us.” He was always bright and calm, and ready.
We started at sunrise, only stopping now and then for water which we could not keep from upsetting - from the jolting - or drying up from the sun; it was dreadful, and my poor brother had bad fever and once insisted on their stopping and laying him on the grass under a tree. Mountstuart thought he was dying and so did they, for they did as he told them, and got water and quinine. After an hour or so he got better and they said we must get into the carts and go on. I made him take my seat then, which was not as bad as his I found then. Little Sophy got dysentery, and Mr Burnes a sun stroke and went off his head, and was never quite right again. Sergeant Morton was nearly as bad.
The night before we got to Lucknow we all especially prepared for death, which we supposed certain the next day. I could not bear uncertainty and asked Mrs Orr how they would kill us. She only said I should know soon and it would not take long!
Early next day we got into Lucknow and the crowds to see us were so dense the carts could hardly move. The soldiers with us kept close, and the others had been sent from the palace to take us in there - the people, who seemed furious were kept off with great difficulty - the place was a mass of heads, people clinging to the walls, climbing and hanging on anywhere to look at us.
When near the Palace the Sepoys seemed afraid the people would kill us, and got us out of the carts, which could not move for the crowd. We were first out, and I saw a man make a rush at Mrs Orr with a big knife. She only got whiter and shrank back. The Sepoys stopped him and took us on between them. My brother was so ill he could hardly stand and had to be helped by two men. Mr Burnes was out of his mind. Capt. Orr carried his little girl and helped his wife. I managed to pick up little Sophy and between Mr Morton and the men got on. The Sepoys were doing their best to get us in safe. Then we got to a place where a lot of headmen were, who got us into dhoolies (covered litters) and started us again for the Palace. Little Sophy was in one with me, not a bit frightened but smiling and salaaming to the men who brought her water. She was such a pretty little fair thing. The crowd caught sight of us again, and the din was worse, they seemed furious that they were not allowed to kill us. I saw the others go through the gate. Sophy and I were the last. The sun was dreadful. I held a sheet over her with one hand and held her and myself in the dhoolie with the other, and near the gate the crowd was fearful, and my fingers got jammed between a soldier's gun and the wall - the blood came under my nails and I suppose I got very white. The soldier could not help doing it. He was squashed against the wall and looked so very sorry I had to smile and pretend it did not hurt - and then we were in and the door shut against the horrid crowd.
The others were in the cool quiet room and I walked in saying “When are they going to kill us?” “Oh hush”, explained Capt. Orr, “They are not going to, they are trying to save us”. “Not yet!” I said, “Oh why do they not do it now?”, and burst into a passion of tears. They called Mountstuart to quiet me though he was lying down with fever, for they did not want people to know we were there. I had thrown myself on my knees trying to stifle my crying. I was awfully ashamed of myself for breaking down, and showed Mountstuart the blood on my hand, I could not bear the sight of blood - so that was put right and then I had to take care of him.
One of the headmen sent his dinner to us: a low round brass table with a lot of little dishes in holes in it, with piles of different curries and kowabs and yellow and white rice - later on they took us to another part of the Palace and again to another with nice big rooms and English furniture. Food was brought into us regularly and a guard was given us: we were some time in these rooms, a month I think. The headman used to come and talk; they tried to persuade Mountstuart and Capt. Orr to lead their troops. Then they made them write letters to the Residency and to the Queen. We all contrived ways for extra words to be put in the natives would not understand. I heard afterwards that none of the letters were received by the Residency. They made a great fuss over Mountstuart because of his title - said he was a Lord Sahib, and the Queen's little brother, and must write and make terms for them, and tried to make him write things which he refused to do. And we had medicines and were all better, though poor Mr Burnes and the Sergeant were both half mad and little Sophy had a kind of falling fits, fainting suddenly.
Then one day (17th Nov) we heard the English relief come in and fight their way through the city. We heard the English voices shouting and the natives yelling and groaning, all the horrid noise of war and just longed to be able to tell them to come in and take the Palace and all the head people at once. All seemed in dismay at this new army coming and they had no leader. Of course we should all have been killed at once, if the English had come into the Palace, they were so furious. At last they came and said the men must go with them, but the Moulrie (Moslem teacher) had given orders we women were to be left. They were going to take little Sophy and left her as she was a girl. My dear brother kissed me and we all said goodbye. The last I saw they were tying their hands, and Mountstuart was resisting. I rushed to him, but the Sepoys pushed me back and drew a curtain, and I don't know what happened. I supposed I fainted, for I woke and found myself on a sofa and Mrs Orr pouring water over me. I told her I saw the Sepoys shooting them in the Court. I remember staring at Mrs Orr. No-one came near us that day or the next, we all had breakfasted and the remains were not taken away luckily, so we had a little food for the children. Mrs Orr and I had nothing for two days and a night. We had water. Then a man brought us some food. I got light-headed very soon: I think we both hoped we were dying.
They would not tell us what they had done with the others. We thought perhaps they had tried to make them lead their troops, and hoped they might be shut up somewhere else, though we felt they must have been killed. We were told the natives with great difficulty had got a cannon on the top of a house facing the Bailey Guard Gate, but before a single shot could be fired from it, a cannon ball from the Bailey Guard was shot straight into it's mouth - so it was useless - the natives thought it most wonderful, and so it was.
Then the Residency began to shell the Palaces, the place we were in getting knocked to pieces, so the guard took us to another - one square we had to cross we had to run, as the shells were falling so fast. They took us to a verandah, with a bomb proof tower, into which rooms our guard went and stood shivering with fright. I went and looked at them.
We sat on rugs on the floor of the verandah open to the square in which shells were falling, coming nearer and nearer to us and covering us with dust and gravel as they burst. The room was raised about three feet from the ground. We made the children lie down and covered them up. Once or twice I threw myself flat, as showers of gravel came over me, but Mrs Orr never stirred. We always tried to show we were not afraid of anything, even if we were, and I think we had almost got beyond fear. The shells stopped at our verandah. They did not do much harm. We were then taken to a little room and verandah where we stayed a long while. I heard the Residency people go away past us, at night, quite unexpectedly, and the next day the natives went and destroyed the dear Residency where we used to live and where such a brave defence had been made. In other accounts mistakes were made about the room we were in, saying we could not stand upright. It was high enough, about seven or eight feet high. It was a small room with a raised ledge on one side and one end, on which we sat and slept - it was only broad enough for one, and we each had a child with her head on our arm. The room might have been about twelve or fifteen feet long, eight feet high and about 10 feet broad. It was at the end of a covered verandah where our guard sat with light match-locks, about twelve of them. There was another room at the other end and a broad place to walk with no roof - with a wall about seven feet high going round an inner open square which did not seem to be used. The outer walls were higher - blank walls of houses on two sides, at the third there was a road; the 4th was our verandah and from our rooms we had a door which we shut at night, with a round hole for air in it, no window, it was very cold. The men used to clutch their guns if I went near them.
I think we were in another part before we were taken to this, as some of the native ladies came to a passage kind of place and talked to us through an open doorway. We tried to find out if they knew anything of Mountstuart and the others, but they did not - they only wondered at us.
Then little Sophy got worse, and one day went on fainting and sleeping. I did not understand, but Mrs Orr at once saw she was going and laid her on a rezai (quilt) in the open air. The natives brought one of their priests to say prayers over her, and bless a cup of water which they gave her, and said she would get well, but she only breathed hard a little, and went to sleep, poor little darling. I had no idea she was so ill and was heart broken. Mrs Orr sent word by Wajid Ali, the headman who took care of us and all the native ladies in the Kaiser Bagh. He came and ordered people to bury her, at night they took her away. We had wrapped her in a razai, and gave another to the men who took her away, for fear they should take hers. Doctors said afterwards she must have had water on the brain.
I had now no-one to do anything for, and I suppose I did not eat, for one day Mrs Orr came to me and said the men said they must see me eat, or they would make me. I said, “give me anything but don't let them touch me”. So I had to sit in front of the open door with the subandar (native officer) sitting in front of me with all his swords and guns on, and ate rice which seemed like very dry hay. The man went on encouraging me, and my tears where streaming.
Some little time after that when the guard changed, a number of soldiers and dressed-up natives came and sat down with our guard, looking at us, me particularly, and talking. I was walking up and down, and at last noticed them, and as I could not understand what they said, asked Mrs Orr, and she told me they recognised me from my likeness to my sister they saw killed at the time of the Relief by General Outram. Her last letter told us they were going to escape from the people who had protected them, and were betraying them, and we had heard rumours that some had been caught and killed, but we did not know who. Now, this man detailed how the Burra Sahib's niece and Mrs Green and a number of the others were brought together - that my poor sister fainted when the soldiers rushed in, that they dragged her by the hair, which was long, that they took them to an open space. One woman there was a Sergeant's wife. They said she was looking about, and one of them cut her across with a sword, and they described her scream and laughed. They said they were all killed, and they knew me from my likeness to my sister they had killed.
Mrs Orr afterwards heard it all from Meer Wajid Ali who often came to see us, and later when we were taken to another house, he told us it was the one they were in before they were killed. I looked everywhere to see if anything was written on the walls, but there was nothing. We did not write but we thought we were the last left. We heard we were to be killed too, but the moulvie stopped it, saying no success attended them, because women were killed, and that we were the only ones left and must be kept as hostages.
Soon after Mrs Orr showed me a scrap of the Bible she had kept quinine wrapped in for poor Sophy - it was Isaiah 51, verses 11,12,13,14 and 23: chapter 52 and verses 1,2, and bits. I have a photo of it. I was very wretched and did not take it's comfort to myself then - I did later - but gave it back to her saying “It is yours”.
Mrs Orr still managed to get letters sent to her brothers-in-law in the English camp, and I think got one from them. About this time the guard was very excited and told us they had been bribed to make us over to the head men, and were furious, as they seemed to look on us as hostages for them, if the English did come back. They sat at the gate with their guns ready and said they would sooner kill us, and we made them promise to do so. We heard nothing more and no attack was made, but Wajid Ali got us away to another house and gave us native clothes to wear, as it was safer. They were very broad at the feet like two long skirts fitted at the hips, and a wadded silk coat going below the knees, veiled and glass bangles to jingle. I have my coat still, white silk with mauve lines, my trousers were purple satin. We wore English chemises underneath. Mrs Orr and I used to take it in turns to wash them. Somehow she kept three.
I think that move was as bad a time as I ever spent. Mrs Orr and her little girl were in one Dhoolie, and I had to go alone and could not tell where I was going being all covered in - and was greatly relieved to see Mrs Orr when I got out. This was a big native house, rooms round a square with a tree in it. We had more privacy and an ayah was given us. Wajid Ali said this was the house my poor sister and party were in. He also told us Mountstuart and the others were killed the day they were taken from us.
He tried to get us taken to the English Camp. The high road was at the back and a hole was made for us to get through, and two camels were to have taken us, but the guard found it out and stopped it.
I got very ill with dysentery and weak and faint. Now I think of it, it was just what little Sophy had – “Sophes” she called herself, poor little darling, and me, mama.
One day I fainted and fell flat on my face and my slippers and candlestick flew over my head. The Guard on the opposite side of the Court saw me, and I heard them jump up and come across. I had such a horror of anyone touching me, I managed to spring up, stand, and say “Stop” - which they did. Then “Give me my shoes”, which they also did, and I crept back to Mrs Orr.
She and the ayah made me smoke something in a hookah after meals, which did me good. Our eyes also got sore from the wood smoke, and we had to use the native pencil for eyes; Mrs Orr had a small looking glass - and I thought it most unbecoming. We took turns to cook our dinners, materials were brought every day. Mrs Orr taught me to make excellent curries and kawabs. We cooked one meal and kept some and ate it cold in the evening. Monkeys were very troublesome. Once I was cooking and a lot came jabbering around me. I rapped their fingers with a stick and kept them off for some time - but so many came and began pulling my clothes and my hair, so I ran away banging the door in their faces. They immediately upset the saucepan, and as there was oil in it there was a flare, which frightened them away, and I had to cut up more vegetables and get more dinner ready.
Now we began to hear rumours that the English troops were close and would soon storm the place, letters were sent and received, and Wajid Ali knew the rewards offered for us, but seemed very hopeless of saving us. Then he arranged to send little Loui Orr to the camp. She was dressed like a native, her face, feet and hands stained, and was carried out of the house like a bundle of clothes on the Ayah's back. She was a very slight child, could speak the language perfectly, and knew she was to pretend she was the Ayah's (native nurse) sick child. Then the Ayah gave her over to a sowar who was to say she had smallpox, and he rode off with her to the English camp. He was stopped by natives several times, but at the word ‘smallpox’ they left him, and she was got safely in - and Mrs Orr got a letter from her brother-in-law; but those two or three days were dreadful for the poor mother.
Wajid Ali was always changing our guard and bribing. He gave us stuff to dye our hands and feet, so as to be ready if he could get us away.
At last the English shells began to fall and our home was suffering. I saw a big cannon ball hit the wall, but it only hit off a bit of plaster. Shells seemed best, and they were beautiful to watch at night, - and screeched as they came near - they looked like balls of fire by night and of smoke by day.
Then Meer Wajid Ali got a dhoolie for us. We were known to be hidden somewhere, so all dhoolies were stopped and hands had to be shown, so I had to be ready to show mine as mine where the smallest. They were stained, but my nails were too pink for native's hands. We were stopped once, but the people with us said we were court ladies and should not show our hands, and we were allowed to go on. I looked through the chinks in the curtains and saw groups of natives sitting talking till the range of the shells came nearer, and then move over and sit down again in the calmest way.
We were taken to a beautifully carved wooden house. Nobody saw us, as we were treated as Court Ladies that Wajid Ali the guardian was taking away for safety. They brought us some very delicious cream to eat. We stayed one night, and then the English were in the town and we were taken to a big house in the outskirts where the Court ladies and Wajid Ali's wives had been taken.
We were given a long upper room with peepholes into a big covered court where the native ladies were. They looked so pretty with long satin trousers and gauze veils and coats, and their hair turned back and braided in one long plait with strands of gold and colours mixed in it — nearly to the ground. Eunuchs went in and out among them.
Wajid Ali brought his wives to see us, one was old, the other young and pretty and something like my poor sister, and directly she saw me she made much of me, and said my eyes were like her little boy’s eyes - mine were blue and black lashes. She was Cashmiri. She has lost her two boys, one at the beginning of the siege and the other at the end. Then they brought us beautiful clothes for us to chose from, piles of satin trousers of the most brilliant colours. We chose the plainest, and they were olive green with broad crimson borders. Then they gave us native pearl earrings and armlets and bangles of enamel and little rings. That sweet little woman hung those they gave me with thread round my ears as I had no holes in them. Then they brought delicious jasmine attar; one drop on my coat scented it for years.
The Begum or Queen Mother came to see us. Wajid Ali was her Darogah. She had a purdah put around her when he came to speak to her; - she was a strong masculine looking woman. We were getting very anxious that news of where we were should be got to camp, but our messengers came back saying they could not get near. Wajid Ali told us the natives had found out he had got us as hostages, and their troops were coming to kill us, and him too, so he had got troops and fighting was going on round our house.
When we heard a rush below, and a rush up our stairs, I flew out to see what was happening, and there was a tall Englishman! “We are saved”, I called out to Mrs Orr. He came in and another Englishman ran up, - Captain McNeill and Mr Bogle. They said “Are you Miss Jackson and Mrs Orr?” – “Come at once”. Wajid Ali came in a great fright and a number of those we thought were native ladies downstairs, but were half-castes, writers’ wives. The natives were driven off and a palkee got for Mrs Orr and me. Mr Bogle was left to take care of Wajid Ali and the Court ladies and the rest. Capt. Carstairs McNeill (afterwards Major General) came with us, and a lot of little Ghurkhas carried us off up and down ravines like cats, and we were in the English Camp - saved!
It seemed such an impossible thing! English soldiers rushed up to greet us. Sir Colin Campbell and the Ghurkha Chief and a lot of officers came and shook hands with us. Telegrams were sent to England at once and to Calcutta. They asked me who I wanted sent to in India, and I burst into tears, and said all of mine were killed. They took us to a tent some officers gave up for us, and brought us things - ivory hairbrushes among them. Mrs Orr's brothers were sent for, and the next day her little girl was in her arms. A box of clothes that Mrs Montresor, my cousin, had sent up on the chance of our being found , was sent for. Dr Christie, who knew my cousin (my future husband) came and told me about him, and Kate Montresor, and when we were left alone, Mrs Orr and I fell on our knees and thanked God. A young clergyman came later.
Next day there was fighting near us and we seemed to be left alone, the noise seemed to be getting nearer and nearer to us and I was more frightened then than all the time, and went out of the tent and found an officer watching.; who said it was “All right” when I said, “You won't let us fall into their hands”.
We were two or three days in the Camp as the country was not safe to go through, and they took us to see the Kaiser Bagh, and we showed them where we had been, and to see the Residency.
At last we were sent with an escort in a carriage till we got to a train in which I went with a number of officers and soldiers and Dr Ogilvie (we had known him before in Lucknow) to go to Uncle Coverley who was at Cawnpore recovering from a broken leg. His horse got shot going into Lucknow and fell on him. He died of this at Benares, shortly after. He was trying to get to Calcutta and Home. Mrs Orr stayed with her brothers.
The train was full of troops and gunpowder and the engine or tender caught fire - we saw great flakes of fire fly past, and rushed on - the ammunition did not blow up, though everybody thought it must and faces were white. My carriage was full of Officers. We saw natives waiting in the distance to fight if anything happened to us.
We got to Cawnpore and went to see the wonderful places that had been defended by our English: only a small mud wall not higher than a man's knees, on a big plain with natives and cannon all round it - afraid to go any nearer - one could hardly believe it could be held for a day and it was for twenty-one days. I did not see the dreadful Well, which was guarded, that no native could go near, or the river where the men were massacred. Dellis (Delhi) had been taken and the Mutiny was over; but as I was going down the Ganges to Calcutta our steamer was fired at by natives on the banks - and the Captain told young officers on board not to return their fire.
This is my story.
ANNA MADELINE JACKSON
Daughter of Sir Keith Alexander
Jackson, Bart.
Wife of her cousin Elphinstone Jackson,
Judge of the High Court, Calcutta.
This copy is taken from one copied in May 1908 from one I copied in Bournemouth in September 1889 from a paper I wrote a long time ago (1880) and cannot find.
Madeline Jackson
Arlsey
Parkstone,
Dorset.
The "dreadful well" at Cawnpore referred to by Madeline was where those of the besieged who had been killed during the day were tipped at night under cover of darkness, it being too dangerous to leave the building during the day. Approximately 250 bodies were dumped into the well by the time the siege ended. Hopefully this was not the same well from which they drew their water. The only water supply was a well in an exposed position and any approach to it by day was extremely dangerous, and even at night a storm of musketry was called forth by the creaking of the tackle.
The machinery however, was soon shot away and it became necessary to haul the water-bucket up hand over hand from a depth of over sixty foot - a very slow process when bullets are flying. Naturally the defenders suffered greatly from thirst as well as hunger and the dreadful heat.
It is surprising that Madeline does not mention the death of her cousin Mary Anne Darby (Henry's sister) at Cawnpore, along with the infant to whom she had just given birth, under a gun carriage. Mary Anne's husband, Dr Edmund Darby, was killed fifty miles away at Lucknow.
I can't help wondering if Madeline married her cousin Elphinstone Jackson with the intention, or at least the hope of producing another Mountstuart Jackson as a memorial to her exceedingly handsome brother whose life was so suddenly and tragically cut short in the mutiny. It is not surprising that Grandmother Madeline would never talk about it.
Madeline and her cousin Elphinstone did produce another Mountstuart Jackson, and that within ten months of their marriage.
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