_1852-1853. WUZZEERABAD_
Wuzzeerabad cantonments--City--Flying column--Public conditions--
The hot season--Rainy season--Sickness and death--Birth of a
daughter--Australian gold fever--Struck by soldier--Assault and
confession--The “Iron Duke”--Items of news--Snake-bite--Prowling
animals--Routine life of a soldier--Attempt at improvement--Book
club--The sick soldier--Illness of wife--Incident of travel--
Traite--Murree--Murder of Mackeson--Its outcome--Hazarees
attack Murree--Wife’s adventure--Charitable hospital.
Immediately after the decisive battle of Goojerat,[121] by which the
Sikh army was completely overthrown, a position for troops was selected
on an extensive plain stretching for many miles along and from the left
bank of the Chenab.[122] That portion of the plain chosen as a site for
what were to be cantonments was at the time under indigo cultivation;
on it tents were pitched and “lines” drawn out in accordance with
regulations bearing on the subject. With the approach of hot weather
the tents were walled and covered in by mud, straw, and such other
materials as under the circumstances were obtainable; then the tents
were struck, partitions of mud “run up,” and so houses or bungalows
formed. By similar means “barracks” for the soldiers and their
establishments were erected; the whole declared to be the station of
Wuzzeerabad.
Six miles away stood the city of that name; in its centre the palace
occupied by General Avitabile, in the service of Runjeet Singh, and
under him Governor of Peshawur at the time of the first war against
Affghanistan. Extending from the main entrance to the city, what in
former days must have been an imposing avenue of trees is represented
by dilapidated willow trunks; at intervals smaller towns and villages
occur, all surrounded by richly cultivated fields. Across the river,
said to attain a breadth of fourteen miles during the rainy season,
is seen the town of Goojerat; towards our left the position of
Chilianwallah; in the far distance the Pir-Punjal and other peaks
pertaining to the Cashmere range of the Himalayahs.
Our force, equipped as a “Flying Column,” was so held prepared and
ready, if need arose, for emergent service. Rumour had it that among
the people the state of things incidental to recent annexation did
not meet with universal acceptance; that the system of Thuggee had
extended to their country from Bengal, where for some years previous it
had been relentlessly hunted down by Colonels Sleeman and Graham. At
the new station of Sealkote an English church was in course of being
erected. In reference thereto the strange report circulated among the
natives that their children were being kidnapped, to be there offered
as sacrifices. Meanwhile two expeditions were in progress of formation:
the one to Swat, under command of Sir Colin Campbell; the other to
Burmah, under that of General Godwin.
The hot season was soon upon us. As it advanced we became
painfully aware how unsuitable, under the circumstances, were the
extemporised “houses” already mentioned. By the aid of tatties and
thermantadotes,[123] it was possible to reduce temperature within
doors to something like 112° F.; but such contrivances were themselves
expensive, and in some instances beyond the means of individuals. The
sense of oppression from the prevailing heat was greater during the
night than in daytime; the stillness of the air, laden with impalpable
dust, affected not alone people, but quadrupeds and birds, while over
everything a yellow haze lay thick and heavy. Then would come a thunder
burst; forked lightning threatened, and in some instances struck our
houses; a downpour of rain would follow, and for a few days thereafter
all would be comparatively agreeable. Later on hurricanes of dust burst
upon us, their violence sufficient to unroof some houses and barracks,
to be followed by storms of rain, and ultimately by the season so
called. Early in September the hot season was at an end; the moist
atmosphere became even more oppressive than it had been while dry heat
prevailed, so that all of us looked forward anxiously to the advent of
cold weather properly so called.
All belonging to the regiment suffered considerably in health; deaths
of soldiers were numerous, the physical powers of all much depressed,
a large proportion thus unfit to take the field in case of emergency.
It was felt, however, that hospital _régime_ was likely rather to
increase their disability than benefit their condition; hence they
were permitted to remain in barracks, though exempt from duty--a
circumstance here noted as indicating the insufficiency of mere
statistics to represent conditions of physical fitness of troops.
Among the deaths was that of a young surgeon,[124] only a few months
in India when attacked by climatic illness, to which he succumbed.
For some time before life passed away, incapable of expression by
voice, his look of terror told plainly his state of mind as he faced
approaching death. The scene was most painful to witness.
On September 5, ’52, a daughter was born to me. The event took place
in early morning. Shortly after mid-day information reached my beloved
wife, through tittle-tattle of servants, that a guest,[125] who
occupied a tent in our compound, was dead by heat apoplexy. Several of
our men were struck down by the same disease, so that absence from my
own domestic sphere was unavoidable under the trying circumstances of
the day.
Within a week from her date of birth, an attempt was made by her ayah
to poison the infant, the reason for the intended crime neither then
nor subsequently ascertained. The prostrate mother from her bed saw
the native woman put “something” in the mouth of the babe, who was
immediately thereafter seized with tetanic spasms; nor was it without
much difficulty that her young life was saved.
The recent discovery of gold-fields in Australia led to a somewhat
unpleasant state of unrest on the part of a few soldiers serving in
India. Letters from friends and relatives in the colonies instigated
them to endeavour by means, whether foul or fair, to get sent thither,
where fortunes could very quickly be made. The result was the outbreak,
as if epidemic, of crimes of assault on officers and non-commissioned
officers, the idea being to get tried before a General Court-Martial
and sentenced to transportation; after which, once in Australia, it
would be an easy matter to find one’s way to the gold-fields. This
“gold fever” resulted in a Resolution by the Commander-in-Chief to put
a stop to the assaults in question; in one instance--and it sufficed
for the purpose in view--the death penalty awarded was carried out.[126]
On a morning in June, while examining a soldier who was about to
appear before a Garrison Court-Martial on the charge of striking a
sergeant, I received from the prisoner a somewhat severe blow on the
forehead. Astonished at the occurrence, some little time was needed
to collect my thoughts and decide upon the line of official action
most suitable under the circumstances. In the interval I learned that
the Garrison Court-Martial had been intentionally ordered to assemble
for the express purpose of defeating the object the man was known to
have in view, and this being the case it was natural to assume that in
assaulting me he had in view trial and sentence by the more important
tribunal. Aware as I was that a sentence of death might be the possible
award, and desiring to avert such a penalty, in making the official
report of the assault I suggested that an inquiry should take place as
to his mental condition at the time. Three months elapsed, and then the
man appeared before that ordeal; he was found “not guilty” on the plea
of “insanity.” In due course he was sent to Calcutta, to be taken there
into the Lunatic Asylum. At the end of a year he was discharged “cured”
from that establishment, and while _en route_ to rejoin the 10th he
died of cholera. So ended that episode.
About the time I was struck a similar assault was committed upon the
surgeon[127] of the 3rd Light Dragoons, occupying barracks also at
Wuzzeerabad. He took steps to have an inquiry made into the mental
condition of his assailant. On that inquiry I sat as president, and
this is the substance of the story told me by the man. From the time
when he first enlisted he had been haunted by visions of a murder
committed by himself and his “pal” on Wandsworth Common in 1845; he
made every endeavour to get killed while charging the Sikhs in battle;
he had committed offences so that he might be taken to the guard room,
and thence made pretended attempts to escape in the hope of being cut
down by the sentry; but failing in all these he had struck the officer,
in order that for so doing he might be tried, condemned, and shot.
These particulars were duly entered in the report submitted to the
authorities; meanwhile, the regiment to which he belonged received its
orders for home, and left the station, taking with it as prisoner this
unhappy man. It was not till long thereafter that the sequel of his
story was heard of.
The death of the “Iron Duke” of Wellington, news of which was received
early in November, was made the text of remark and discussion, the
official acts and demeanour of His Grace towards officers and the army
generally being looked at from different and at times directly opposite
points of view,--the impression which seemed most generally to prevail
being that although no one denied him the credit of great services
performed in the first fifteen years of the century, yet for many
years thereafter he had been “past his work”--a commentary which bears
interpretation in more ways than one. It cannot be said that many signs
of mourning for his loss were apparent.
Early in 1853 English papers brought news among other matters that
Louis Napoleon had been recognised as Emperor by the Powers of
Europe, though not with good grace, that a suspicion existed of a
possible attempt at invasion was under consideration, an order for the
concentration of troops of the regular army and militia at particular
points being the outcome of that suspicion. Another item in those
papers reads strangely while these notes are being transcribed, and
conditions alluded to have developed in significance; namely, “The
influence of the lower orders is fast on the increase, and altogether
we seem to be on the eve of a crisis, the ultimate issue of which
it is impossible to predict.” Shortly thereafter came news of the
Emperor’s marriage to a Spanish lady,[128] his personal popularity in
the army not enhanced thereby. According to Indian journals, overtures
had been made to the British Resident at Moorshedabad, by Sirdars of
Affghanistan with a view to approach Government on the subject of
taking over that kingdom. The truth or otherwise of the report did not
transpire; but that the rumour was current was itself a suggestive
circumstance.
As the hot season advanced, snakes, poisonous and otherwise, became
numerous in cantonments. A sepoy while asleep was bitten by one of
those reptiles. He soon became unconscious; blood oozed from two small
punctures on the instep where he had been bitten, from his mouth,
nostrils, and from under his finger-nails.[129] He was treated by means
of large doses of ammonia and turpentine, and ultimately recovered.
Prowling beasts of prey made night hideous. On one occasion much alarm
was occasioned by one of them becoming “rabid,” rushing violently at
and biting animals and people. Considerable numbers of both were so
injured by the pariah dog; some of those bitten were treated, some not,
but no specific results followed the injuries. In the bazaars within
cantonments prowling jackals and wolves were so many dangers to infants
asleep on charpoys at night; some instances occurred in which they were
carried away and devoured by the larger animals mentioned.
The conditions of a soldier’s life in India at the time alluded to were
calculated rather to weary than enliven him. The climate ill suited for
out-of-door exercise; many of the men unable to read, and disinclined
to learn; their two resources the bazaar and the canteen; their tastes
and pursuits animal; mind a blank; the body a ready prey to disease.
Absolutely no good result was to be gained from official reports on
these points, and suggestions for improvements. I addressed letters to
the journals in the hope of enlisting attention in favour of station
reading rooms, lecture rooms, etc., but with the result that little
notice was taken of my representations.
In the 10th Regiment itself, through the action of two or three
officers, some of the soldiers enrolled their names as members of
a “Mutual Improvement Society.” Meetings were held; tea and other
light refreshments served in view to attracting men; lectures and
demonstrations given on such subjects as Forts and Battles mentioned in
the Bible,[130] Strata of the Earth’s Surface, Uses of the Human Body;
classes for reading and writing also set on foot. Not long thereafter,
a General Officer,[131] by order of the Commander-in-Chief,[132]
arrived at Wuzzeerabad “to put a stop to so dangerous an association.”
Military opinion was not then ripened for the innovation.
After some delay, and with considerable difficulty, a Book Club
for the soldiers was launched in the regiment; the officers were
already well provided in that respect. As with the one class, so
with the other, works on “service” subjects were mostly read, but
intellectual occupation was thus available whereby to pass the weary
and exhausting days of the hot season. [Recollecting these endeavours
made by a small number of us in 1853 to advance the intellectual
condition of the British soldier in India, the few of us who still
live attach suggestive significance to the extract now given from
the most interesting work by Lord Roberts, entitled _Forty-one Years
in India_.[133] Under the date 1887 he wrote: “My name appeared in
the _Jubilee Gazette_ as having been given the Grand Cross of the
Indian Empire, but what I valued still more was the acceptance by the
Government of India of my strong recommendation for the establishment
of a Club or Institute in every British regiment and battery in India.
Lord Dufferin’s Government met my views in the most liberal spirit,
and, with the sanction of Lord Cross, ‘The Regimental Institute’ became
a recognised establishment.”]
The second hot season of our residence at Wuzzeerabad proved even more
severe than the first upon the health of our soldiers, large numbers
of whom suffered from illness special to the climate and locality.
Unfortunately for those so prostrated, the apathy and indifference of
the native servants connected with the hospital were such that many
lives were thus sacrificed which under more favourable circumstances
would in all probability have been saved. For example:--A soldier in
barracks, during the hottest hours of the day, is discovered by his
comrades to be seized with heat apoplexy, or to be suffering from
the scarcely less alarming symptoms of ardent fever. He is by them
placed in a dooly and so dispatched to hospital. The bearers who carry
him are indifferent to life and suffering among themselves, but if
possible more so in respect to the white man, and so their pace is by
no means rapid. They reach the “surgery”; but there, if they find no
one present, they put their dooly down, while they themselves sit in
the verandah to smoke, perhaps to sleep. After an interval more or
less long, the presence of the sick--it may be unconscious--soldier
is discovered; the circumstance, after another interval, comes, or is
brought to the knowledge of the subordinate, who, just roused from his
siesta, and considerably narcotised by his “hookah,” takes time to
collect his energies, and so be able to visit him. Even then the actual
nature and severity of the attack is not always recognised and dealt
with; so when the surgeon pays his evening visit, the patient is dead.
Among those struck down by severe illness was my dear wife, vitality
brought to so low an ebb that only by holding a hand mirror to her
lips and observing the slight moisture left thereon could the fact be
realized that she still breathed. In this our time of trial, sympathy
and aid came unexpectedly, but not from sources whence they were
looked for as an outcome of services rendered. When her removal became
practicable, she proceeded by dooly dâk towards Murree, then newly
established as a hill station and sanatorium. Our cavalcade--for I
was of the party--crossed the Chenab, partly by boat, partly by being
carried through shallow water and marshy tracts. Arrived at Goojerat,
the field of battle, at a little distance from the city, was found to
be so overrun by vegetation as to be recognisable only by monuments to
individual officers erected on spots where they had fallen. The day
wore on; a messenger arrived, bringing, with “salaam from the Collector
Sahib,”[134] soup and other delicacies suitable for an invalid and
infants. He had heard casually that a lady, severely ill, was in
the dâk bungalow; hence this outcome of kind thoughtfulness towards
complete strangers to him, as we were.
Jhelum, on the river so named,[135] was the next stage of our anxious
journey. Thence, next night to Pucka Serai. Arrived at the dâk
bungalow, it was found that the building intended for travellers
consisted of one room; in it a single bedstead, on which lay an elderly
field officer, who, in transit to the hills, had arrived shortly
before us. Attendants were absent; supplies unobtainable; there was
no alternative but to carry my sick wife from her dooly and place her
alongside the sick officer. How the child and infant fared all day is
not recorded. Resuming our weary way as the cool breezes of evening set
in, early morning found us at Rawul Pindee, then as still a favoured
military station. Thence, in evening, towards the foot of the hilly
range towards which our journey was directed. Night had closed in
before the actual ascent began. As yet there existed no road properly
so called. Progress was slow: rocks and boulders in the way caused many
difficulties; but these surmounted, the light of our torches showed
that in our progress we had attained a region of precipices, rugged
valleys, and rapidly running streams.
As morning dawned we were set down at Trait, a place the loveliness of
which--surrounded by pine-covered hills; its rich green vegetation, the
purling rivulets that traversed the valley, the coolness of the breeze
that wafted over us--all these, delightful in themselves, exerted upon
my wife an effect to be described as magical. Then it was that from her
dooly the pale, emaciated form emerged. Enthusiastically she clutched a
twig of pine tree I had just cut; its grateful resin scent brought to
recollection associations of bygone days. From that moment her recovery
began.
The further journey to Murree was continued, the cool air at the
elevation of six to eight thousand feet, to which we had attained,
enabling us to travel by day, instead of only by night as in the
plains. A road was in course of being made, but as yet that by which we
continued was little else than a rugged mountain path, leading upwards
through forest composed of sycamore, pine, chestnut, and other trees
familiar in our English woods; the altered conditions of temperature,
scenery, and general surroundings were health-giving in their effect.
Before many hours had passed we were welcomed and hospitably received
by our friends, Dr. and Mrs. Banon.[136]
A few days elapsed, and through the station bazaar rumour circulated
that on the 11th “a great earthquake would take place at Peshawur,”
“a native prophecy” having so declared. On the 13th information was
received that on the 11th[137]--namely, the date indicated--Major
Mackeson, Chief Political Officer at Peshawur, had been assassinated by
an Affghan from Jallahabad; the murderer having delivered his thrust
raised his hand to repeat the blow, when--so it was stated--a native
rushed between them and received it. Subsequent information led to the
belief that the murder of political officers at various other seats of
local government had been intended, the existence of a conspiracy with
that object well known among the native population.
Rejoining the 10th without delay, like every other officer who observed
the signs of the times, I could not help seeing that as an immediate
outcome of the Peshawur murder, the aspect of public affairs, not only
on the North-Western frontier, but throughout India, rapidly became
such as to cause anxiety to administrators, while it led officers and
soldiers to speculate on the chances of active service. The prime mover
in the murder of Major Mackeson was believed to be Sadhut Khan, chief
of the Lalpoora State. Immediately on the occurrence of the murder
British troops were moved onwards from Rawul Pindee, orders issued
for others to march from other stations to take their place. These
proceedings occupied several days, as all such movements had to be
performed on foot. In the meantime the troops arriving at Peshawur were
received with signs of disaffection by the Mahomedans of that city;
while Rawul Pindee, left for the time being with a diminished garrison,
was threatened with attack by a band of Hazara men under an impostor
named Peshora Singh,[138] who pretended to be a son of Runjeet Singh.
That attack did not take place, but a movement somewhat threatening
in character was made towards Murree, at the time occupied by invalid
soldiers and their families, wives of officers (mine included), and the
small number of officials required for the inconsiderable dimensions it
had then attained.
On the night of September 28, some hours after darkness had closed in,
messengers sent round for that purpose spread the alarm throughout that
station that the Hazarees were rapidly advancing up the hill towards
it; orders at the same time issued by which all should forthwith
repair to the residence of the Commissioner, leaving their houses
“standing.” A heavy thunderstorm prevailed at the time; lightning
flashes at intervals lit up the miry pathways along which the ladies
and children had perforce to walk, in some instances a distance of a
couple of miles. My own dear wife, as yet unrecovered, and unequal to
such an exertion, was carried, together with her two children, and so
reached the general rendezvous, where earlier arrivals had barricaded
themselves as best they could by means of tables, chairs, and other
articles of furniture. Meanwhile the Commissioner[139] collected such
officers, soldiers, and police as could be brought together in the
emergency. Marching as best they could in the darkness, they came
in contact with the rebels at daylight, and after a smart skirmish
dispersed them, the Commissioner being wounded in the _rencontre_.
By the middle of October my wife, though far from restored to health,
was sufficiently well to return with her two children to the plains.
Starting from Murree in the evening, her palanquin-bearers speedily
showed themselves to be ill-disposed; while she, unprovided with a
guard, as some other ladies had been, was rendered helpless in what
proved to be a most painful position. Frequent halts, unnecessary
delays, repeated demands for buxees (presents), and general disregard
of her requests to keep the palanquins together, continued throughout
the long dreary hours of darkness, and well on in the following day.
It was afternoon before she was deposited at the dâk bungalow of Rawul
Pindee; but the party conveying her infant was nowhere in sight, nor
could tidings of it be obtained. Thus did several hours pass. Then it
was that the arrival of an officer[140] enabled my wife to communicate
to him her state of anxiety and alarm. Without delay he proceeded to
the residence of General Breton, in command, with the result that a
cavalry escort was dispatched in search of the missing ones. Another
period of delay, fear, and anxiety, and the palanquin with the infant
arrived. It appeared that her carriers had simply deposited her on the
roadside in the jungle, and dispersed. What might have happened is
painful to contemplate.
For some time past a charitable hospital for the benefit of the
native population in and around cantonments had been maintained by
subscriptions and other contributions from officers of our regiments,
the professional duties connected therewith being performed by myself.
Gratitude on the part of those who benefitted by that institution was
never expressed verbally, and in many instances not at all; indeed,
claims were in some made for pecuniary reward, on the plea that
individuals had submitted themselves to be operated upon. In a few
instances, however, active gratitude was expressed, even in a somewhat
demonstrative manner. The use of chloroform was then in its very early
stages. In the instance of a child, that anæsthetic was administered
while it lay placidly in its mother’s arms. When under the influence
of the drug, the little patient was gently lifted, placed upon a
table, operated upon,[141] then replaced in the position from which
it had been taken, still apparently asleep, and placid. The surprise
of the mother was very great; the whole thing declared by her to be
_jadoo_--that is, witchcraft!