the patience of this peculiar people that after a century of oppression they did not raise an arm to free themselves. They felt the hopelessness of the task, for oppression had ended in despair.

Whatever may be the opinion as to the cause of this mutiny, the story of its suppression fitly closes the reign of the great company. How often is history written in the light of some one tragic overshadowing event, which may have been only a minor incident in the drama, but which is all that the world cares to dwell upon. The revolution against the Stuarts is remembered and darkened by the execution of Charles I., and the fame of the greatest of Englishmen has had to suffer in the minds of the English nation because he killed a king. The French Revolution has become a crime in the minds of the largest part of the civilized world, because of the execution of Marie Antoinette. All we know of the Commune in Paris is that the leaders shot the hostages, and all we know of the mutiny in India is the massacre of Cawnpore. The hearts of the civilized world are stirred to their depths by that awful and savage deed, and from the time you arrive in India you never pass a scene consecrated to the dead of 1857 or hear a story of the mutiny without being told of the women who were butchered by the Nana Sahib and thrown into the well of Cawnpore. Consequently what we know of the mutiny is this: that the wisest and best of rulers came to India to trade; that their hearts were so moved by the scenes they witnessed of misgovernment and disorder that they interfered and gave India the best of governments-gentle, humane; that suddenly, without cause and without warning, this ungrateful people arose and turned upon their rulers and massacred women and children, and were only suppressed after great sacrifices and exertions and the exercise of a severe justice, which, however, so humane were the rulers, was always tempered with mercy.

And if any one has ever questioned the acts of the smallest subaltern in the service of the company, or asked a question as to what one or another may have done to bring about the mutiny, the answer is, "Remember Cawnpore." "Remember Cawnpore." Poetry, fiction,

art, and eloquence have summed up in this all that the world knows of the rebellion. But Cawnpore is only an incident in the history. The Sepoy rising was an event long foretold. I have read in a book published twenty-two years before the outbreak, and written by a gentleman of rank and character, holding the highest offices in India, a warning to the East India Company, telling them that unless the government was changed there would be a terrible sequel. Sir Charles Napier, who knew India well, warned the government not to trust the native soldiers. There were mutterings in various sections of India. Lord Dalhousie, whose career as Governor-General closed in 1856, had carried out a policy of annexation which if not checked would have destroyed the independence of every state in India. The King of Oude, as I have said, in whose capital I am writing, and whose house had always been the ally and friend of the company, was driven out of his kingdom, given a pension of fifty thousand dollars a month, and his revenues and estates taken by the company. Lord Dalhousie was warned that a mutiny of the native army would follow this annexation. In Delhi men began to assemble from all parts of India, and it was noted that there were many conferences between men who were emissaries from discontented sections. Nothing is more easy than for emissaries in India to disguise themselves as religious fanatics or mendicants and wander all over Hindostan. A native regiment was ordered to Burmah. The native has a religious aversion to the sea. It is against his caste to cross the black water. The regiment declined to go, and the authorities yielded. This was an unfortunate, mischievous concession, for it gave the native an idea that because he was a soldier the government was afraid of him. Most of the Bengal Sepoys were men of a high caste, from the Brahmins and the warrior class of Rajpootana. Caste is guarded by one who possesses it as tenderly as a gentleman guards his honor. The man who lost caste lost the esteem of his friends, brought shame upon his family, could not have the consolations of religion, nor the solemnities of an honorable funeral. His punishment lasted into eternity. This punishment, as terrible as that which devout

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Christian men feel would be their lot if they committed the unpardonable sin, will come from slight causes, such as eating the flesh of the cow, or washing the hands with soap that may be made of cow's fat. While the army was discontented with the annexation of Oude and the other manifestations of the vigorous policy of Lord Dalhousie, and general mutterings of discontent were heard in disaffected sections, it was announced that a new rifle had been issued to the Bengal army, of the English pattern, and that this rifle would use the greased cartridge.

This cartridge was made of the fat of the cow or the pig. The soldiers had to bite it before loading, and thus destroy their caste. They discovered this, and a panic spread. It was no surprise to the government, as a military official who knew the Sepoys warned the Governor-General of the possible consequences of issuing the cartridge. Another rumor was circulated that the new Governor-General, Lord Canning, meant to convert the whole Hindoo race to Christianity, and that to do this it was necessary first to destroy the caste of the Brahmin and the Rajput. There was another rumor that to further carry out VOL. II.-6

Howard and Cavendish and another for princes of older, and, in Moslem eyes, more illustrious houses, and that all things in India-rank, caste, privilege, property-were at the mercy of a company of merchants ravenous for dividends, and who held India by the same tender and considerate ties with which they would hold a railroad or a limited hog-killing company. This man was the Nana Sahib, and although deposed, the chief of the Mahratta race, a cunning and brave race who had struck many a blow in Indian history. Moreover, the prophets and priests had been at work, and in India no influence is more powerful. They had been reading the stars and the holy books, and the divine oracles had said that the reign or raj of the English would only last a hundred years; that the gods had punished the people by putting the company over them, but only for one hundred years. This period would soon come to an end, for on June 23d, 1857, would occur the hundredth anniversary of the battle of Plassey, the battle in which Clive founded the British empire in Hindostan. And as if to crown it all, news came from Europe that England had suffered so much in her Russian war that her power was feeble. It was believed that Russian intrigue, then as lively an element in the imagination of English public men as now, was at work. "It has long been suspected," writes the distinguished missionary, Doctor Duff, "that Russian spies under various guises have been successfully at work inflaming the bigotry of the Mussulmans and the prejudices of the high-caste Hindoo. Some disclosures are said to have been made which may some day throw light on this Russian treachery." Persia, whose ruler was chief of the faith. professed by most of the Hindoo Moslems, was, under Russian influence, supposed to be sowing sedition.

It was known in January, 1857, in Calcutta at least, that the spirit of mutiny was abroad, that soldiers were holding night meetings, and that the pretext was the greased cartridge. Toward the end of February there was a slight mutiny at Barrackpoor, a beautiful country station on the river near Calcutta, where the Viceroy has a summer house. It was suppressed by the hanging of a soldier and a native subaltern. But it only