There were many brave Englishwomen in India during the terrible days of the Indian mutiny, many as brave as Mrs. Inglis, but we are able to know what she went through at the time, because of the diary which she kept and in which she wrote down what happened day after day, and in reading about her adventures we can imagine something of what others suffered. She was the daughter of a great lawyer, who became Lord Chancellor and the first Lord Chelmsford, and when she was twenty-eight she married Colonel Inglis, a brave soldier, and went out with him to India. Six years afterwards the mutiny broke out, caused by the discontent of the native troops, who turned upon their English officers. Lucknow was in the heart of the most disaffected district. Lieutenant-Colonel Inglis had gone there with his regiment, the 32nd, in January 1857; his wife and their three little boys were with him, and they lived together in a pleasant little bungalow. Sir Henry Lawrence was the Commissioner, as the governor of a district of India was called. He was very anxious about the state of affairs, and as the months passed and news came to Lucknow of the outbreak of the mutiny in other parts, he daily expected that the native troops in Lucknow would mutiny also. On the 16th May they heard that the great city of Delhi was in the hands of the mutineers. Then Sir Henry Lawrence ordered that the wives and children of the officers at Lucknow should leave their own houses and come into the Residency, the place in the centre of the city where the Commissioner lived, and near which the troops were quartered. This he thought he could defend against the natives if they should mutiny. He invited the ladies belonging to the 32nd regiment to stay in his house that they might be near their husbands.

Mrs. Inglis got herself and her children ready as quickly as possible, and then rode up and down the road outside her house waiting for the officer who was to escort them. It was an hour before Colonel Case arrived with a troop of cavalry. He rode in front and Mrs. Inglis followed on her pony with the other ladies and the children behind them. The city was as quiet as if it were asleep, and they reached Sir Henry Lawrence’s house in safety. Mrs. Inglis writes: “I think it was the longest day I ever passed, as, of course, we could settle to nothing. John [her husband] came in the evening and read the service with me; he told me he did not think we should ever return to our house.” At dinner she sat next Sir Henry, who was very grave and silent. About 130 English women and children took refuge in the Residency, and were given rooms in the different houses and offices there. In Sir Henry Lawrence’s house there were eleven ladies and fifteen children, and in spite of all he had to do, he took endless trouble to make them comfortable. Mrs. Inglis had a small room for herself and her three children. Colonel Inglis had to stay with his soldiers, and she used to drive with her friend Mrs. Case to camp that they might spend a little time each day with their husbands. These visits were a great treat to them, but they had to return before dusk, and even so, driving through the city was not very prudent, as there were many ill-looking men about. Mrs. Inglis drove her pony herself and went at a very good pace. At first she was cheerful enough and inclined to laugh at the absurd reports that reached them, till her husband checked her, saying, “It’s no laughing matter, the most dreadful reports reach us daily.” From that moment she realised the true seriousness of their position. The very next day she was just going to bed when a gentleman knocked at her door and bade her bring her children and come up to the top of the house immediately. She dressed them as quickly as possible and hurried to the roof and found all the inmates of the house gathered together looking towards the camp where many tires were blazing. The chaplain offered prayer, and the men prepared to defend the position in case they were attacked. At midnight a note came to Mrs. Inglis from her husband, and every one crowded round her to hear the news. He said that for the moment the rising was over, and he did not think that it had been general. Then they all lay down to rest. But at noon the next day, they heard of a rising all over the city, and every one was bidden to come to the Residency for safety. There was terrible confusion and excitement, every one fearing the worst. A few minutes’ talk with her husband, who came in the evening, was a great comfort to Mrs. Inglis. She had to share her small room now with her friend Mrs. Case and her sister. Everything possible was done to strengthen their position. About 765 native troops had remained faithful, and they with 927 European troops were quartered in houses all round the Residency, which were connected by a hastily built wall. Many native servants were faithful to their masters, and Mrs. Inglis had a devoted native butler and nurse, who did all they could to help her. Her husband had a little room in the house, so she could see him sometimes for a few minutes, but he was terribly busy. Morning and evening the chaplain read prayers, and every Sunday there were services, which were a great comfort.

On June 13th, Mrs. Inglis asked her husband if he thought the enemy would attack them and if they would be able to hold out. He answered that he believed that they would be attacked, that their position was a bad one, and they would have a hard struggle. She says she was glad to know what to expect, as it enabled her to prepare for the worst. She describes their life as most wearisome. The heat was very great; it was impossible to read much, but they occupied their time in making clothes for the refugees, and this employment was a comfort. She always slept with her children on the roof of the house, and the nights in the open air were very pleasant. The view of the city and the country around was very beautiful, and so calm and peaceful that it was impossible to think it could be the scene of war. Colonel Inglis slept in the garden with the soldiers. Occasionally he managed to come during the day into his wife’s room for a few minutes. She never left the house, except once for a walk with the chaplain to see the fortifications. The church was used for service for the last time on June 14th, after that it was turned into a storehouse for grain. Mrs. Inglis herself laid in all the stores she could get, sugar, arrowroot, beer, wine, and food for the goats who supplied milk for the children.

About this time Mrs. Inglis began to feel ill, and it was discovered that she had the smallpox. She wished to be moved to a tent so as not to expose others to infection, but it was decided that the risk would be too great; for it was known that a great force of rebels were approaching the city, and that they would soon be besieged. All the troops in Lucknow were now brought in from the camp and stationed in and about the Residency and a fort near by. Then, on June 30th, some of them were ordered out to meet and drive back the rebels. But the natives with the guns proved faithless and deserted the English, so that the force had to retreat. Mrs. Inglis, ill though she was, could not stay in bed, and posted herself at the window to see the sad sight of the troops straggling back in twos and threes. She and her friend Mrs. Case were in terrible anxiety about their husbands. Just then Colonel Inglis came in; he was crying, and, after kissing his wife, he turned to Mrs. Case and said, “Poor Case.” Mrs. Inglis writes that never will she forget the shock of his words, nor the cry of agony from his widow. Colonel Inglis had to leave them at once. In all the horror of the moment there was no time for thought. The rebels were firing heavily on the Residency, and the room was not safe. Hastily collecting a few necessaries, Mrs. Inglis and her children took refuge with the other ladies in a room below, which was almost underground; the shot was flying about so quickly that they could not venture out, and not long after they had left their room upstairs a shell fell into it. Fortunately her native servants were faithful, and brought them food during the day.

At night the firing grew less, and Colonel Inglis came in to take them over to a room he had prepared for them in a building which had been the gaol, and which was fairly safe. It was only 12 ft. by 6, and there she and her children stayed with Mrs. Case and her sister. They were all so worn out with wretchedness that they slept that night. Next day they did what they could to make their room comfortable. It had neither doors nor windows, only open arches, and they hung up curtains to make some sort of privacy. Though the smallpox was then at its height, Mrs. Inglis suffered no harm from the anxieties of that terrible day; but she was alarmed lest her children should catch the disease, as she could not keep them from her bed. But fortunately they did not take any harm, and she seems to have recovered quickly. There were two wells in their courtyard, so that they had a plentiful supply of water, and for the moment there was plenty of food.

The next day another terrible attack was made by the rebels. As they sat trembling in the midst of the heavy cannonading, feeling sure that the enemy must get in, Mrs. Case proposed that they should say the litany, which they did, she and her sister kneeling by Mrs. Inglis’s bed. Mrs. Inglis writes that the soothing effect was marvellous; they grew calm in spite of their alarm. Next morning Sir Henry Lawrence was wounded by a shell that burst into his room. There was no hope of his recovery, and after three days of awful suffering, nobly borne, he died, leaving the entire command to Colonel Inglis. Day after day one or other of the little garrison or of the women were hit by shells. The chaplain was shot whilst shaving one morning. Mrs. Inglis watched anxiously over her children, who grew pale and thin from the confinement and the terrible heat. July 16th, was her little boy’s birthday, and she thought sadly of the other children of his father’s regiment who on that day used to have a dinner and a dance in his honour. She did not know that on that very day those other poor children were murdered by the rebels at Cawnpore.

Every day the anxiety grew. They had hoped before this to hear of English troops coming to relieve them, but no news came. There was nothing to be done but to wait and try to keep back the rebels, whose attacks were constant. Death was always near. One evening Mrs. Inglis was standing outside the door with her baby in her arms when she heard something whiz past her ears. She rushed inside, and afterwards found a piece of shell buried in the ground just where she had been standing. Her children were her greatest comfort, and as she had them to amuse and look after she never had an idle moment. Sometimes she tried to read aloud, but it was impossible for them to fix their minds on a book. In their games the children would imitate what was going on around them. They made balls of earth and threw them against the wall saying that they were shells bursting. Johnny, the eldest boy, would hear where a bullet fell and run and pick it up whilst it was still warm. They slept through all the firing and never seemed frightened.

Sunday services were regularly held, and again and again at the worst moments prayer was their only support. Mrs. Inglis used to visit the other ladies as much as she could; and, being of a hopeful nature herself, managed to raise their spirits. Her own best moment in the day was in the early morning, when her husband used to come to see her and sit outside her door drinking his tea. One day a shell burst in their own courtyard; the children were playing about and for a moment her anxiety was intense, till she saw that they were all safe. Tales of hairbreadth escapes were heard daily; one doctor had his pillow under his head shot without his being hurt. But there were many who did not escape and the condition of the wounded in the heat and the crowded hospital left little hope of recovery. Anxiety and constant work turned Colonel Inglis’s hair grey during the long suspense. Their position was growing desperate. He knew that General Havelock was trying to fight his way through the rebels and come to their help, for a native spy carried letters between the two commanders, written in Greek characters and rolled up and hidden in a quill. General Havelock wished Colonel Inglis to be ready to help his approach by an attack from inside, but Colonel Inglis was obliged to write on August 16th, after more than six weeks of siege, that this was impossible, owing to the weak condition of his shattered force. Food was growing scarce, and there was much sickness. On one evening five babies were buried.

It was not till near the end of September that the sound of distant guns struck Mrs. Inglis’s ear one day and told her that relief was near. Each boom seemed to her to say, “We are coming to save you.” Five days afterwards, on September 25th, at six in the evening, she heard tremendous cheering and knew that the relief had come. She was standing outside her door, when a soldier came rushing up to fetch the Colonel’s sword, which he had not worn since the siege began. A few minutes afterwards the Colonel himself entered, bringing with him Colonel Havelock, a short grey-haired man. He had fought his way in with the relief force. He shook hands with Mrs. Inglis, saying that he feared she had suffered a great deal. She could hardly speak to answer him, and only longed to be alone with her husband. Colonel Inglis felt the same, and after taking Havelock out, returned in a few minutes, and, kissing her, exclaimed, “Thank God for this.” For a brief moment there was unmixed happiness. Then the thought rushed into her mind of all the others whose lot was so different from hers and whose dear ones had perished in the siege.

A moment later a messenger came asking if they had any cold meat for starving officers, and very soon Mrs. Inglis learnt how severely those who had come to their rescue had suffered as they fought their way in through the narrow streets of the town. She also heard of the wonderful scene when they at last got in and met the besieged. On all sides were hand-shakings and warm greetings, the relieving soldiers lifting the children of the besieged in their arms and kissing them. But little by little Mrs. Inglis realised that, though relieved, they were not rescued. The soldiers who had fought their way in under Outram and Havelock were not enough to drive back the enemy or even to take the women and children safely out of Lucknow. They were only able to help them to resist the besiegers, and their presence increased the anxiety about the supply of food, which was getting very low and had to be used with the greatest care. The number of wounded was also terribly increased, and the state of the overcrowded hospital and the want of all the things needed for the care and comfort of the patients added greatly to their suffering. The only chance now was to hold out till the coming of Sir Colin Campbell with more troops, and meanwhile the attacks of the enemy increased in fury; there was constant firing and no place was really safe, so that Mrs. Inglis was never easy if her children were out of her sight.

During the siege, Mrs. Inglis had found a little white hen which used to stay about their room and be fed by her children. When food grew scarce they decided to kill and eat it; but that very morning Johnny ran in exclaiming, “O, mamma, the white hen has laid an egg.” One of the officers, whose leg had been cut off, was very ill and weak, and Mrs. Inglis at once took the egg, a great luxury in those days, to him. The hen laid an egg for him every day till he died and then ceased for the rest of the siege, but they would not kill it after that.

It was not till the middle of November, seven weeks after the coming of Havelock, that they knew that Sir Colin Campbell was near. It was Colonel Inglis’s birthday, and they invited another officer to dinner, and actually had a fruit tart for dinner, a luxury which Mrs. Inglis would not have dreamt of had not her hope of relief been high. Little Johnny ran out to call their guest, screaming at the top of his voice, “Come to dinner; we’ve got a pudding.”

It was November 17th, a most anxious, exciting day, when Sir Colin Campbell at last reached Lucknow. He did not come inside the entrenchments, and when Colonel Inglis arrived very late to dinner it was with the bad news that they were all to leave the Residency the next evening. Sir Colin did not think he was strong enough to recapture the town, and felt that the utmost he could do was to carry off in safety the garrison and the women and children. It was a bitter blow to Colonel Inglis to be told that he must leave in the hands of the enemy the place which he had so long defended at such terrible loss. He offered to stay and hold it if 1000 men could be left to him and the women and children removed; but it was not allowed, and there was nothing to do but to obey. There was a hurried packing of all such things as could be taken with them. The women and children started, late on the afternoon of November 19th, to leave the place where they had been closely besieged for nearly five months. The road by which they were led out of the town was considered safe, except in three places on which the enemy were firing at intervals. There an officer carried the children and they all ran as fast as they could, but Mrs. Inglis did not feel in the least afraid. In a large garden in the outskirts of the town they found the other women and children, and the officers of Sir Colin Campbell’s force, who were all most kind, and feasted them with tea and bread and butter, which were great luxuries. Sir Colin came and talked to Mrs. Inglis for some time and was most attentive, but she said that all the while she knew that he was wishing them very far away, and no wonder, for without the women and children to take care of, he would have been free to attack the enemy. It was ten at night before they started on their journey with an escort of soldiers. Mrs. Inglis with her three children and three other ladies and another child were squeezed tightly together in one bullock waggon. She had only just got her baby to sleep when the word halt was called, silence was ordered, and all lights were put out. Clearly an attack was feared, and she was terrified lest her baby should begin crying again and betray where they were. After waiting in absolute silence for a quarter of an hour, the order was given to move on, and in two hours they reached a camp where tents had been got ready for them and food prepared and they could lie down and sleep. Next morning some of the officers invited Mrs. Inglis and her friends to breakfast, and she writes that, though she hopes she was not very greedy, she much appreciated the good things with which their table was loaded. The next day she had the great joy of receiving the home letters from her mother and friends in England which had been accumulating for five months, and she was able to write home herself.

Colonel Inglis had been left behind to bring out the garrison, which he did at night without the loss of any men. It was an immense relief to Mrs. Inglis when he reached the camp in safety. The next day they started on their march, the great procession of carriages and carts with the women, children, and luggage, guarded by the soldiers. They could only move very slowly and often had to stop because the carriages and carts got hemmed together. Several days were spent in this way. Mrs. Inglis could not see her husband every day, and great was her joy when he could visit her for a few minutes. She tells how on Sundays, if he came, they read the service together, and how at another time she could have a quiet walk and talk with him. They passed through Cawnpore, where a bright moon shone on the ruined houses, and everything reminded them of the horrors that had taken place there a few months before, when their fellow-countrywomen with their children had been cruelly butchered by the rebels. Eighteen days after leaving Lucknow they reached the railway. It had been a most trying and fatiguing journey, especially for the sick and wounded, over rough roads, in crowded, jolting carts. The train took them to Allahabad, where they were received with enthusiastic cheering from the crowds gathered to greet them, a reception which Mrs. Inglis felt most overpowering. At last they were in a safe place and could rest. By degrees steamers carried them down the Ganges to Calcutta. Mrs. Inglis was glad to linger amongst the last, for her husband was at Cawnpore with the troops, and at Allahabad she could hear daily from him. She begged him to let her stay where she was, instead of going back to England, but he would not consent. As she travelled down the Ganges to Calcutta, a wearisome journey of three weeks in an overcrowded steamer, she heard from her fellow-passengers the stories of their hardships and losses. It was wonderful to think that she and her husband and three children were all safe. Strangely enough their dangers were not over yet, for the steamer that was taking them from Calcutta to England struck a rock and the passengers had to make their escape in small boats through the heavy surf. The waves were very high, and seemed as if they would swamp them, but little Johnny laughed merrily each time they broke over the boat. Fortunately they were picked up by a passing ship, and ultimately reached England in safety. Colonel Inglis stayed for some months in Cawnpore, but then his health broke down, which was not surprising after the terrible time he had been through. He was forced to ask for leave and was able to join his wife in England.