Читать книгу Military Memoirs of Field Marshal the Duke of Wellington - Joseph Moyle Sherer - Страница 7

Table of Contents

The fort or city of Seringapatam is situated on a small island formed by the river Cauvery, which breaking against the rocky bank disparts its stream into separate but wide channels: the waters flow sluggishly along, till they meet about three miles below.

The city is built at the upper end, and the arms of the river at that point embrace the walls. The island has a naked, dreary appearance, and is about a mile in width below the city. The place is fortified in the old Indian fashion. Obstacles are clumsily multiplied, and, especially at the south-west angle, wall rises above wall in complicated obstruction. Many of the bastions are square, but there are a. few of the regular European form; they are connected, however, by walls, long, lofty, and straight, after the manner of the Hindoos. The north-western angle was that selected by the general as the point of attack: the river at that season was low, its bed wide, and filled with rocks and fragments of granite.

The Bombay army, under Stuart, from the western coast, and general Floyd, who had been detached with the cavalry to cover their advance, joined on the 14th. The sultan’s horse had hovered close and constantly upon their line of march, and been very active in their annoyance. The progress of the works was now rapid: on the 17th the Bombay troops were established and well covered within a thousand yards of the western angle of the fort; and the bed of a watercourse on the southern side, within a like distance, was seized at the same moment.

On the 20th, in the evening, the enemy was dislodged from an advanced intrenchment with considerable loss, and a parallel was opened on the spot within seven hundred and eighty yards of the fort.

On the 22d a column of 6000 infantry, with Lally’s corps of Frenchmen, made a furious sally upon the Bombay army: they were received with steadiness; and after many times repeating their fierce efforts, were compelled to retire with the loss of six or seven hundred men.

On the evening of the 26th some intrenchments of the enemy behind the bank of a watercourse within 380 yards of the place were assaulted and carried. Of these attacks colonel Wellesley, who commanded in the trenches, had the immediate direction. Their success was rendered complete by the spirited and timely support of colonel Campbell. The fighting was obstinate, and our loss considerable.

On the morning of the 30th a breaching battery opened on the bastion; at sunrise on the 2d of May another battery opened upon the curtain to its right; these and the supporting batteries kept up a loud thunder, and beat weightily upon the walls. A magazine of rockets blew up in the fort, and threw its ruinous and terrific firework far up into the war-clouded sky; salvo upon salvo lodged ponderous shot upon the shaken walls. A practicable breach was soon made in the fausse braye wall, and on the evening of the third the main rampart was a heap, and a yawning ruin. Scaling-ladders, fascines, and other materiel for the assault, were sent to the trenches after sunset the same evening. When the sun rose on the morrow, the brave battalions destined for the storm were already concealed in the trenches.

Two thousand five hundred Europeans and one thousand eight hundred natives were appointed to this service, under major-general Baird. The hour for the assault was well chosen ; it was that sultry hour of early afternoon, which is throughout the east a season of profound repose; when lassitude is felt in all its enervating power; when, after the meal at noon, all natives compose themselves to sleep or rest Hot, panting, breathless for the signal, men from the far north and west, that had left their thresholds at home fair flaxen-headed youths, lay by their native comrades looking up to the fierce sun, and well-nigh as swart as they.

The sleepy silence which hung over the city, and the awful stillness in the trenches, were suddenly broken by the voice of Baird:—“Come, my brave fellows! follow me, and prove yourselves worthy of the name of British soldiers,” was the brief appeal, with which, springing out of the trenches, sword in hand, he summoned the bold men to the overthrow of a kingdom. He was answered by the quick and forward rush of the “forlorn hope” as they broke past him; and was close followed by the columns under colonels Sherbrooke and Dunlop. The summit of the breach, after a short struggle on the slope with a few gallant Mysoreans, who started out on the instant, was crowned in six minutes; a British color was there displayed by the brave sergeant of the “forlorn,” who as he gave the shout of triumph, and felt the hot throb of honors already won, fell dead by a shot from within the fort

The face of the wide breach was soon crowded with men; and when collected in sufficient force to enter upon the rampart, they filed off to the right and left, driving the enemy Wore them, who fled particularly on the right, with unresisting panic. Numbers threw down their arms and rushed out of the fort One body of fugitives effected their escape by lowering themselves with the long folds of their unrolled turbans, from the lofty wall at the south-western angle; but of these the more inactive and irresolute were dashed to pieces upon the rocky bottom of the ditch. Upon the left, however, the column or colonel Dunlop, who had himself been wounded in a personal conflict with one of Tippoo’s sirdars, on the slope of the breach, was vigorously opposed. The enemy took post behind the traverses which they had constructed, and defended them, one after the other, with such resolution as frequently to bring our front to a stand. Nor would this difficulty have been easily surmounted, had the detachment of the 12th regiment, British, failed in passing the ditch between the exterior and inner rampart A narrow strip of ground left for the passage of the workmen was by happy chance discovered; the rampart was climbed; the detachment advanced along it, flanked these formidable traverses, and cleared them by their fire. In this quarter the sultan himself had hitherto fought in person, firing from behind a traverse like a common soldier, his attendants aver with such steadiness and effect, that he brought down many of the assailants.

But when on all sides the English were gaining ground; when those of the right attack were seen in their crimson uniforms, over the eastern gate; when on all the works the dismayed Mysoreans were resigning the contest, and abandoning their posts, Tippoo retired along the northern rampart

Coming up with one of his horses he mounted, complaining of fatigue, and of the aching of a leg, in which he had been formerly wounded. He now rode slowly, with what object none can tell, not away, out of the city, as he might have done, but to a bridge that crossed the inner ditch, and led by a covered gateway into the town. As he was entering this gateway he received a wound from a musket-ball. The place was soon filled with fugitives, both from without and within: for on both sides the British were now advancing. The archway was so choked with people that he could not pass through the crowd; and the cross-fire of the conquerors soon made it a heap of the dead and the dying. His horse sunk under him, wounded; his palanquin was at hand, and his attendants disengaged him from the saddle, and placed him upon it This was their last service— removal was impossible. In a few minutes English soldiers pressed into the gateway. One of them, attracted by the glittering of the golden buckle, snatched at the sultan’s sword-belt Tippoo, with such strength as yet remained to him, made a cut at the soldier, and wounded him in the knee. The man drew back, raised his piece, and shot the sultan deliberately through the temple, little knowing that it was the stern unyielding king, who fell back upon the litter dead. In the hot search for plunder, the body was thrown out of the palanquin, and lay hidden for a time beneath a heap of slain. While Tippoo, in the consciousness that his kingdom was departed from him, provoked the fate he probably desired, all was alarm and terror in the palace. Baird, who had been formerly, for three years, the fettered and captive tenant of a lothesome hovel in this very city, now stood before the palace-gates as a victor.

After some anxious parley between major Allan and the killedar, the palace, which was crowded with armed men, surrendered ; the gates were opened, and the youthful princes were led to the presence of the injured conqueror. They came trembling : they knew his story; they knew his wrongs; and they knew that Europeans taken during the siege had been murdered in torture by their father: but as they drew near, and met the eyes of Baird, that brave man was sensibly affected at the sight; his violent and excited anger was suddenly resolved into the generous emotions of a fatherly pity; he calmed their fears, and dismissed them with expressions of regard and promises of protection.

From the information gathered at the palace, Baird proceeded instantly to the northern gateway in search of the sultan. The shadowy arch was filled with slain; and from the dim obscurity of the place the features of the dusky dead could not easily be distinguished. Body after body was dragged out and examined without success. Torches were now lighted, and they went in to carry on the search with better expedition: the corpse was at last found beneath a heap of the killed, and recognized by many. Turban, jacket, sword, and belt were gone; of defence or ornament nothing remained to the king; still, however, bound upon his right- arm, was the trusted amulet which he always wore. Despite three wounds in the body, and one in the temple, the countenance was not distorted, and it wore an expression of stem composure. The eyes were open, and the body so warm, that, as colonel Wellesley, then present, and major Allan, felt it, they thought, for a minute, that the sultan yet lived; but it was not so. They felt the pulse again, and it was still: the haughty heart and it had ceased to beat.

Above eight thousand of his troops had fallen. The carnage in and around the principal mosque was very great; for here was the last deadly and desperate resistance of the true mussulmans, who would neither fly nor surrender. All violence ceased with the conflict; and, in comparison with captures by assault generally, few, very few, of the inhabitants suffered. Such females as had not fled the city, gathered in veiled and trembling groups in the open spaces, and found their best protection in this defenceless and pitied exposure. On the morning of the 5th of May, colonel Wellesley was appointed to the permanent command of Seringapatam. In the attack, he had been in charge of the reserve, and was only an eager and animated spectator of the storm. The rank, the reputation, the age of Baird, and, above all, the peculiar circumstance of his long captivity in the dungeons of this very city, gave him a right to the honor of leading the assault; and the impatient victor, in the furious battle of Assaye, had but to see this conflict, and to hear the shouts of the conquerors. His immediate attention on the morning of the 5th was directed to the re-establishment of order and security. He made a few necessary examples of plunderers; went in person to the houses of the principal inhabitants, and soon inspired a general confidence in the people. Such as had fled away to the open fields returned; and three days after the capture, the main street and the bazaar were crowded with a busy population, and presented the appearance of a fair.

On the evening of the capture, the remains of Tippoo were conveyed to the palace. On the morning after, Abdul Khalik, his second son, came in and surrendered himself: he asked to see the body, but viewed it with apparent unconcern. Not so the younger princes; they displayed a feeling and lively sorrow. Youth is youth, and father has still a cherished place in the breast and heart of boyhood, whatever be the country, how troubled soever be the scene. Tippoo was buried with the usual ceremonies, and with as much of pomp as circumstances admitted ; all these things being cared for and provided, with the utmost delicacy and judgment, by colonel Wellesley himself, as commandant of the city. Four flank companies of Europeans attended as a guard of honor; and minute-guns were fired during the interment. As the procession passed through the street, a keeraut, or charitable donation of five thousand rupees, was distributed to the fakirs and the poor. The kauzee chanted the usual verses from the Koran, and the attendants gave the loud response. The streets were lined with inhabitants, and many persons prostrated themselves before the bier. Thus Tippoo was laid in the tomb of a king, and with the body of his father. He was brave; and he died a soldier’s death. He was a favorite with all classes, during the lifetime of his father, but his reign disappointed all expectations. Nevertheless, in the sight of his mussulman subjects, he had many redeeming qualities ; nor did they attribute to him, but to his minister, Meer Sadduck, the oppression which they endured. This they marked by the cruel, indecent, and foul indignities with which they treated the naked corpse of Meer Sadduck, who was killed during the assault, it is believed, by the Mysoreans themselves. Tippoo was generous, though capricious, and supported an immense number of dependants. “These people are fed by God,” he would say,.“not by me ;" and he would never hear of any reductions in his establishment which might dismiss superfluous servants to destitution. He was strict in all observances of his religion; and his edicts against the offences prohibited by the law of the prophet, especially that against the use of wine, were severe and inflexible. He was a despiser of all Europeans, even of those whom he employed. He was a persecutor of all infidels, of the Nazarene in particular. Yet it is recorded of him that, on the very day on which he met his death, he made large oblations to the brahmin priests, and performed ceremonies by them enjoined to avert misfortune. These priests had apprized him that the 4th of May would prove an inauspicious day to him; and whatever prompted the strange augury, it was, though with little of mystery or wonder, fulfilled. When he sent to them his offerings, he asked their prayers. Such was the fear with which this intrepid warrior regarded the approach of misfortune, or, perhaps, the terrible law of death. Such was his doubt of that providence and mercy in which, as a good mussulman, he affected to place a simple and implicit reliance.

Notwithstanding all the predictions of the priests, and his own misgivings about the last event and issue of the war, the storm of Seringapatam he never contemplated for one moment; and on the morning of the day when it was made, he could not, to the last, be made to believe that it was intended. He was at dinner, sitting under a pandal, near an old gateway, in the northern face, when the alarm was given. He hastily washed his hands, and called for his arms. While buckling on his sword, a messenger came running to tell him, that Syed Goffar, his best officer, was killed.

“Syed Goffar was never afraid of death,” was his first and only exclamation: “let Mahommed Cassim take charge of his division.” And with these words he went hastily forth to meet the assault The fortunes and the character of this prince are of sufficient interest to have demanded this long notice.

As soon as it could be conveniently arranged, the commissioners, appointed by the governor-general, assembled in Seringapatam. Colonel Wellesley was a member of this commission. Their first proceeding was to grant life-pensions to the chief sirdars of Tippoo’s army who had survived the struggle. This measure of conciliation being effected, their next was to remove from the country the families of Hyder Ali and the late sultan, as a preliminary to the new settlement of Mysore. The details of this delicate office were left to colonel Wellesley; and, by various concurring testimonies, the duty was performed with great judgment, and the most considerate humanity.

It was resolved by the marquis Wellesley to restore the ancient rajahship of Mysore. lie apportioned for it a larger territory and a better revenue than the former rajahs had ever possessed. The remainder of Tippoo’s kingdom, being the after-conquest of his father, was divided between the English and the nizam; a portion being reserved as an offering to the peishwah, with a view of cementing our alliances in that quarter. The child, who was the lineal descendant of the ancient rajahs of Mysore, was discovered, with his fallen family, in deep poverty and humiliation. His state excited a most compassionate interest in those first deputed to communicate the intended elevation. The commissioners were received by the young rajah in the mean apartment of a mean abode. He was surrounded by his male relations; while the ranah and the females of his house were only concealed from the visitors by a sorry cloth or curtain: every thing marked the extreme of indigence and neglected obscurity.

The young prince, a delicate and timid child, about five years old, was at first alarmed; but the kindness of the commissioners soon reassured him.

The brahmins fixed upon the 30th of June as an auspicious day for the enthronement. The inauguration took place in the old town of Mysore. The ancient Hindoo musnud had been discovered at Seringapatam, and was used upon this occasion. Under a royal salute from the fort, and three volleys from the troops, the young rajah, conducted by general Harris and Meer Allum, took seat upon the throne of his fathers, received their homage, and was presented in due form with the seal and signet of the rauje. The deportment of the child, throughout this imposing ceremony, was so becoming, so free from all restraint and embarrassment, as to surprise and interest all the British officers who were present Tippoo had always designated the state as Khodadad Sircar, L e. “The Government, God given or, “The Gift of God.” The designation, though Mahometan, and no longer used, struck many as singularly applicable to the advancement of the young rajah; for he had literally lain among the pots, and was now set up as a prince of the people. The brahmin Purneah, who had been the finance minister of Tippoo, accepted an offer to become the dewan of the present government, and was appointed accordingly. Thus happily was this important conquest settled.

It is impossible to close the story of this war without remarking two things:—first, that, contrary to all reasonable expectations, the British army was compelled rather to creep than to march to the scene of its after-triumphs. Next, that, if in consequence of this delay Seringapatam had been defended as it might and ought to have been, and as there was reason to expect from the character of Tippoo, the number of his troops, and the abundance of its materiel, it would have been, the siege must have been tedious and harassing, and the success doubtful. Nay, had the breach been cut off by a retrenchment, and defended with as much spirit as the traverses on the left, it would certainly not have been carried as it was; because an obstacle would have been presented insurmountable by the brave assailants.

Before and throughout the siege the mind of Tippoo was confused, and his heart depressed by the shadow of a coming calamity. On the evening of his funeral the sky gathered black with clouds. There was a great tempest, thunder and lightning, and so heavy a rain that the river Cauvery rose greatly in the course of one night; and this change of weather would, of itself; have greatly interfered with our operations, had we been still in the trenches. In the camp of the Bombay army two British officers were killed, that evening, by the lightning.

All here related, and much more, was witnessed by colonel Wellesley, and forms a part of his military experience as a soldier, and his moral experience as a man.

He now became the permanent commandant of Seringapatam, and in that office was, of necessity, charged with many duties, and various arrangements, of a nature totally distinct from the ordinary routine of mere military service. To these new duties he rose in a manner that gained him much influence and increasing respect

It is remembered, that he early prepared a paper upon the state of the coinage in Mysore, in which it was shown that he had studied the subject, and was not less able to project a measure of finance in the closet than to guide a column in the field. To tills hour, indeed, the memory of all these services, and more particularly of those which he rendered to the terrified and desolate natives in the moment of our triumph, and their distresses, is cherished by the aged inhabitants of Seringapatam with a grateful feeling, with which we are unwilling to disconnect the after-successes of colonel Wellesley’s life.