Vivian Stuart's Massacre at Cawnpore catches the reader by surprise. No matter what one's prior knowledge of the event, nothing can prepare the readers for the bloodshed described with a terrifying clarity. Stuart attaches her readers to a fictional member of the garrison at Cawnpore, Colonel Alex Sheridan, then drags them through the mud, under the burning sun, between musket fire, dodging cannon and the occasional bayonet on the way.
Perhaps most disturbing about Stuart’s tale is the gradual jading of the readers. In the beginning of the tale, every death is described, given a name and a grieving family. But as the story progresses, death turns into a daily occurrence. Names are no longer given and casualties are presented as numbers rather than as people. The strength of the garrison slowly dwindles. Soldiers no longer have the strength to condemn General Wheeler for trapping them in their situation. They are dying off one by one, picked off by musket, cannon and heat alike.
Despite the horror surrounding them, they fight on. After all, there are hundreds of women and children to be protected. Had it only been the men they might have been able to put together one last sortie and break through to Lucknow, but that was impossible with so many helpless people at their backs. And so they fought on, until they could fight no more. The Nana Sahib then offers them surrender, and Wheeler has little choice but to accept.
With no option but to trust the Nana’s word, the exhausted defenders of Cawnpore pack up their things and make for the river. Just when they think they have made it to safety, the Nana’s men slaughter most of what was left of the men, taking the women and children hostage. Stuart has us follow Alex Sheridan, now delirious with lack of blood as well as grief and a concussion, makes his way to Allahabad. We join the march to take back Cawnpore, and just when we think the suffering is finally over, the Nana orders the hostage women and children murdered.
And this is where Stuart springs empathy back upon her readers. After an entire novel of making her audience accustomed to death and tragedy, this last violence truly shatters whatever composure may be had. Told simply and unadorned, without names or details, the true massacre at Cawnpore is a horror so real that there is nothing to be done but mourn.
Truly heart-wrenching and poignant, Stuart’s portrayal of the horrific tragedy at Cawnpore is enough to stir even the stoutest of hearts.
Perhaps most disturbing about Stuart’s tale is the gradual jading of the readers. In the beginning of the tale, every death is described, given a name and a grieving family. But as the story progresses, death turns into a daily occurrence. Names are no longer given and casualties are presented as numbers rather than as people. The strength of the garrison slowly dwindles. Soldiers no longer have the strength to condemn General Wheeler for trapping them in their situation. They are dying off one by one, picked off by musket, cannon and heat alike.
Despite the horror surrounding them, they fight on. After all, there are hundreds of women and children to be protected. Had it only been the men they might have been able to put together one last sortie and break through to Lucknow, but that was impossible with so many helpless people at their backs. And so they fought on, until they could fight no more. The Nana Sahib then offers them surrender, and Wheeler has little choice but to accept.
With no option but to trust the Nana’s word, the exhausted defenders of Cawnpore pack up their things and make for the river. Just when they think they have made it to safety, the Nana’s men slaughter most of what was left of the men, taking the women and children hostage. Stuart has us follow Alex Sheridan, now delirious with lack of blood as well as grief and a concussion, makes his way to Allahabad. We join the march to take back Cawnpore, and just when we think the suffering is finally over, the Nana orders the hostage women and children murdered.
And this is where Stuart springs empathy back upon her readers. After an entire novel of making her audience accustomed to death and tragedy, this last violence truly shatters whatever composure may be had. Told simply and unadorned, without names or details, the true massacre at Cawnpore is a horror so real that there is nothing to be done but mourn. Truly heart-wrenching and poignant, Stuart’s portrayal of the horrific tragedy at Cawnpore is enough to stir even the stoutest of hearts.
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