The Man who was a God

The Man who was a God by Roger Pocock

"The Man who was a God" by Roger Pocock is a biographical sketch of John Nicholson, a captain in the twenty-seventh native infantry of India, portraying him as a figure of extraordinary physical and moral stature whose influence over the peoples of the subcontinent bordered on the supernatural. Nicholson is described as tall, gaunt, and haggard, with a long black beard, a pale face, lips that never smiled, and eyes that burned like a tiger's when he was angry. His personal magnetism is established early through his relationship with his men. After an Afghan soldier died saving Nicholson's life in a frontier action, Nicholson later rescued that soldier's only son from enemy captivity, charging alone through hostile fighters to bring the young man to safety. From that point the young Pathan rode perpetually at Nicholson's side, served him with a cocked pistol at hand, and slept across the door of his tent. Over time Nicholson gathered a personal following of two hundred and fifty wild riders who refused pay and refused to leave his service. The Sikhs, admiring the perfection of his manhood, concluded he was divine, and offered to raise a great temple in his honour if he would accept their religion. Though Nicholson was a humble Christian who entirely rejected such reverence, Sikh warriors would squat silently in the doorway of his tent watching him work. When worshippers prostrated themselves before him in adoration he ordered them punished with three dozen lashes, yet the men accepted the punishment gladly, reasoning that their god had known of their wrongdoing and chastised them for it. The Sikhs also searched their whole nation for a sword worthy of the greatest swordsman in India, and after exhaustive tests presented Nicholson with three perfect blades; he chose the single straight sword, accepting it as a gift from a nation of warriors. When the Indian mutiny of 1857 broke out and the revolting native army seized Delhi and proclaimed a descendant of the Great Mogul as emperor, Nicholson was at Peshawur. Acting swiftly, he seized the mails, had letters translated, and then distributed bundles of the correspondence to colonels who had sworn to the loyalty of their own regiments. The officers read and discovered their trusted men deep in treachery. Those regiments were disarmed and disbanded. A flying column of British troops was formed to disarm and disperse the native army across the whole of northwestern India, and despite being only a captain, Nicholson was given command of it with the rank of brigadier-general, a promotion that drew no murmur of resentment from the senior officers beneath him. Nicholson's column moved through the country surrounded by his wild personal guard riding in pairs, giving him five hundred watchful eyes across the landscape. After one gruelling night march he drew up his infantry and guns, rode along the line and instructed his men that when two native regiments appeared from behind a small temple they should fire a volley immediately if those regiments raised their muskets to the ready. Nicholson then rode alone to meet the arriving mutineers, spoke to them, and induced two thousand men to surrender to seven hundred, though had those men resisted he himself would have been caught between two fires. He cared nothing for his life. He executed rebels without mercy, ordering conspirators blown from the mouths of guns so that their remains were fired into the faces of wavering regiments, yet after such executions he would retire to his tent and weep in private. His authority extended over all who encountered him. An orderly officer, a boy of nineteen, ordered an Afghan prince and his servant to dismount from their elephant and make their salaam before a white man, and they obeyed. The ambassador later remarked that it was no wonder the English conquered India when even their boys enforced orders with such resolution. When the mutineers held Delhi and a besieging force of four thousand British troops lay under its red walls as England's forlorn hope, Nicholson understood that failure would mean no man of his race would escape to the sea. He brought his force to join the siege and, though nominally subordinate to the impotent General Wilson, was the effective driving force of the assault. One night, without any disguise, he walked alone through the Lahore Gate and passed in silence through battery after battery along the city walls to the Cashmere Gate, exiting safely. The Sikh gunners inside, who believed him an incarnate god, fell upon their faces at the sight of him. In this way he studied the city's defences as no man had dared before. He was then given command of the assault on the Cashmere breach, which included the blowing of the Cashmere Gate. More than half his men perished, but an entry was forced, and over the following six days the British fought building by building through Delhi, breaching walls as they went, until they stormed the palace and raised the flag above the citadel. Nicholson fell mortally wounded during the assault and was carried to his tent, where he lay through the hot days watching the blood-red towers of Delhi and listening to the sounds of the continuing battle, praying to live long enough to see the British prevail. Outside the tent his worshippers clutched at passing doctors for news of him and kept a noisy, grieving vigil. When their noise grew too great he seized a pistol and fired a shot through the canvas, and the Pathans immediately fell quiet, understanding it as his order. When at last his coffin was lowered into the ground, these men who had left their hills to follow and guard him broke down entirely and flung themselves upon the earth sobbing like children. Far away in the hills, the Nicholson fakirs, a tribe who had made him their sole deity, heard of his death. Two of their chiefs killed themselves so that they might serve him in another world. The third chief addressed the people differently, telling them that Nickelseyn had always said he was a man like themselves and that he worshipped a God whom he could not see but who was always near. He urged the tribe to worship Nickelseyn's God instead. The tribe came down from their hills to the Christian teachers at Peshawur and were baptised.

By Roger Pocock · First published 1926 · Genre: Historical Fiction, Military Fiction, Adventure · 1,777 words

First lines

A. D. 1845

John Nicholson was a captain in the twenty-seventh native infantry of India. He was very tall, gaunt, haggard, with a long black beard, a pale face, lips that never smiled, eyes which burned flame and green like those of a tiger when he was angry. He rarely spoke.

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adventure · early 20th century · exploration · wilderness · Canadian frontier · survival · identity · power · mythology · transformation · man versus nature · self-discovery

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The Man who was a God is listed on Textopian as a short story by Roger Pocock, dated 1926 CE.

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