Rubbles, ruins, a well and a Celtic Cross are what had greeted Dr. John Murray at the infamous site of Bibighar in Cawnpore, as he had set up his Daguerreotype to capture this scene in 1858 – barely a few months after a detachment of soldiers loyal to the East India Company had discovered the corpses of several European women and children, murdered and carelessly dumped inside a water well, and which on this day was the subject of Murray’s photo.
One of the only two photographers to capture the scene of the crime when events were still fresh in memory and virtually present on the ground, though Murray was spared the horrors that had appalled and incised the military contingent, and in turn spurred them to commit atrocities in the name of vengeance. He had nonetheless been conscious of what lay interred as he had taken his place behind the camera in the dishevelled landscape, steps away from the human remains. Â
While Murray was most certainly not the only Western photographer to capture the sights of British India in the 18th century or the aftermath of the mutiny for that matter. He was among the pioneers of his era, and in spite of only being a part-time amateur.
A native of Peterhead in Aberdeenshire, Scotland, and the son of a farmer, Murray was by profession a Doctor of Medicine with his degree earned from the University of Edinburgh – a prestigious college that was founded in 1583 and now is one of the world’s top universities.
When Murray had arrived in India.
Murray had arrived in Calcutta in 1833, after having secured employment with the East India Company, and spent his first nine years in British India as an assistant surgeon with the Bengal Medical Services.
In 1842 he had earned the Medal of Aliwal for the infallible service he had rendered as a field surgeon during the battle of Aliwal, which had marked the beginning of the end of the Sikh empire in Punjab, and in 1849 he was appointed as the civil surgeon of Agra – then the British administrative headquarters of the province.
In Agra Murray had invested another twenty years of his career, monitoring outbreaks and researching ways to curb Cholera that in the 18th century was the leading cause of death among European civil and military personnel stationed in British India, and it was here also, he had finally become acquainted with photography – in 1849, the very same year he had been appointed as a civil surgeon.
Why Murray had taken up photography.
Though the invention of the Daguerreotype by the French in 1839 and its availability in Calcutta by 1840 had spurred the East India Company to encourage its employees to take up photography and subsequently led to the establishment of photography clubs in the Presidential capitals of Calcutta, Madras and Bombay.
Murray had become involved with photography quite late in his life, and not because he had needed to cultivate a new hobby but rather to help his wife with her sketch work.
His involvement with photography, however, had allowed him to explore his artistic skills and as his interest had grown in the field he had forged ahead to document a wide variety of subjects ranging from architectural landmarks to people and the aftermath of the mutiny.
He had preferred to produce his work as large wax paper negatives and on one occasion even journeyed back to London with 400 wax paper negatives for exhibition.
What makes the photo of the well by Murray, unique.
Murray’s photo of the well of Bibighar is unique for it is one of the earliest to be captured with a camera. Although the Bibighar incident by the time of Murray’s visit was already known in England and Europe with the British Press having successfully embedded it in public discourse. His along with Christopher Tyler’s photos are the only ones that reveal what the place actually looked like in 1858, prior to the place being developed as the memorial well garden – renamed after India’s independence as the Nana Rao Park.
The white iron fence that can be seen in Murray’s photo was erected close to the well by the military personnel stationed at Bibighar at the time. Inside the fence is a Celtic Cross built to serve as a gravestone and to commemorate the memory of the deceased.
The bodies of the murdered women and children were never recovered from the well for burial but instead interred inside by having the mouth of the well covered with earth and later brickwork.
Aftermath of the Massacre
Why the women and children were murdered remains a topic of discussion. What is known, however, is that their murder was orchestrated, and according to several eyewitnesses, by Nana Sahib’s chief lieutenant Tatiya Tope, the courtesan Houssani Khanum Begum and her supposed lover Savar Khan.
The incident was a turning point in the mutiny of 1857 and its repercussions had lasted well into the nineteenth century, almost right up till the Independence of India in 1947.
After news of the massacre had reached the European public, whatever sympathies the rebellion had initially found in England and abroad had disappeared overnight. The tarnished image of once loyal Sepoy had only been redeemed by Indian soldiers, fighting in Allied Armies, during World War II.
Murray spent nearly four decades in British India. He left photography in 1870, some 28 years before his death in 1898 in Sheringham, England.
Among his most iconic photos is a vintage photo of the Taj Mahal, which is now archived with the Clark Museum in Massachusettes. He was deeply fascinated by Mughal architecture and during the time he lived and worked in British India, he produced a huge collection of such architectural photographs.
I F I This is an Independent story highlighting John Murray’s photo of the infamous Well of Bibighar in Cawnpore, British India, and sheds light on the life of Murray as a photographer. It has been created from facts curated out of literary and historical sources. I
