This section is from the book "India - John L. Stoddard's Lectures", by John L. Stoddard. Also available from Amazon: John L. Stoddard's Lectures 13 Volume Set.
Mothers and children, the dying and the dead in one red, palpitating mass. Above this well, which forms the burial-place of more than two hundred victims, an angel stands in snow-white raiment, so pure, so beautiful, and so pathetic from the memories which it evokes that at the sight the eyes grow dim with tears. One feels that it is "holy ground." The angel's arms are crossed upon the breast in resignation, while in each hand is held the martyr's palm. Over the arch-way is inscribed: "These are they who came out of great tribulation." Around the well-curb, too, I read these words: "Sacred to the perpetual memory of the great company of Christian people, chiefly women and children, who "No native is allowed to enter this enclosure," said the old soldier who here serves as guardian. We could not wonder at the law.
Former Home Of Nana.
The Memorial Well.
The Foot Of A Princess.
Leaving this hallowed spot, we drove to a point beside the river Ganges, whence we could see the former residence of Nana, - the wretch upon whose guilty soul rests this inhuman crime. What became of him no one can tell. The British government offered a reward for his arrest, but he was never found. Some think this human tiger perished in the jungle. Others maintain that he is still alive, living in safety in the north of India, beyond the English lines. At all events, his fiendish work is over now, and the historic stream, once stained with England's bravest blood, now flows on peaceful and clear, just as within the lovely garden at the well the air which once resounded to the shrieks of anguish now echoes to the songs of birds.
An Indian Landscape.
In addition to the tragedy at Cawnpore, horrible deeds of cruelty were enacted in other parts of India. In Delhi, delicate ladies and beautiful young girls were stripped of their clothing and driven naked through the streets, stoned, beaten, pelted with offal, and finally given over to the brutal passions of the rabble, until the terrified and horror-stricken women became raving maniacs or sank in death. More than once the fiends snatched children from their mother's arms and dashed their brains out on the walls. Some families, too, are said to have been burned to death. Surely, it is not strange that when the English once more gained the mastery, they blew a number of these demons from the cannon's mouth. A few days after leaving Cawnpore, I saw, in company with an English officer, some native regiments on parade. I asked him frankly what he thought about the chances of another mutiny. His answer was a guarded one. "We are more careful now," he said: "our British force will never again be so reduced as it was in '57. It numbered then only 39,000 men as compared with 225,000 native soldiers. Moreover, while we use Indian troops for infantry and cavalry, we keep most of the cannon in our own hands; and do not for-get that we have now a system of railways and telegraphs, which means that we can put down any insurrection quickly and effectively." But several civilians with whom we conversed did not take this optimistic view. According to them, a vast majority of Hindus and Mohammedans would rise to-morrow, if they dared, especially if Russia's guns began to rouse the echoes of the Himalayas. Their first step undoubtedly would be to cut the telegraph wires and destroy the railroads; and how much better off, they ask, would Europeans then be in India? Many a Maharajah is said to be secretly as discontented as was the rebel Nana. These fires of hate are merely smouldering now, but who can say they will not some day burst forth into a flame? At all events, it is significant that no natives, outside the army, are allowed to own or carry fire-arms.
A Soldier And Camel.
Native Troops.
It must be remembered also that, although in her schools and universities England is educating thousands of these natives and giving them employment, nevertheless it is just this class that is most discontented. They have learned enough to believe, and even to assert, that the original inhabitants of a country should govern it, and that it is absurd for a handful of Englishmen, whose home is in another portion of the globe, to rule three hundred million people, entirely distinct from them in race, ideas, customs, and religion. Meantime, at the other end of the social scale are millions of fanatics who hate Europeans from religious motives, and would starve to death rather than eat a particle of food which Christian hands had touched. Between these two opposing forces England stands to-day.
 
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