Having seen Agra, its edifices, ruins, society, European and native,
and having visited Secundra, Futteypore, Sickri, and Muttra, I
journeyed upwards to Delhi, where I was received by Mr. Joseph Skinner,
the eldest son of the late Colonel Skinner, renowned as the founder and
commandant of the famous Skinner's Horse. Mr. Joseph Skinner's house
was, at all times, open to all travellers. He was without exception the
most hospitable man that I ever met in any part of the world. At his
board were to be met daily, either at luncheon or at dinner, civilians
and military men of every rank and grade in the service, as well as
native gentlemen of position in India--Hindoos and Mahommedans. Even
the young princes, sons of the King of Delhi and descendants of the
Great Moghul, used frequently to honour Mr. Skinner with their company.
The title by which they were usually greeted was Sahiban-i-Alum,
signifying "Lords of the World." But the most remarkable native that
I ever met at Mr. Skinner's hospitable board was the late Maharajah
Hindoo-Rao, a little, fat, round Mahratta chieftain, with small
twinkling eyes, and a countenance replete with fun and quiet humour.
He was a pensioner of the Gwalior State, and drew therefrom twelve
thousand pounds a year, which was guaranteed to him by the British
Government. Large as was this income, Hindoo-Rao contrived annually
to spend more than double the amount, trusting continually to fate
to relieve him from his pressing pecuniary difficulties; not that he
ever suffered them to prey upon his mind; on the contrary, he made
them a subject of jocularity. In addition to being as hospitable as
his friend Mr. Skinner, Hindoo-Rao was addicted to field sports on a
large scale, and kept up a very large establishment for the purpose of
gratifying this propensity. He was considered--and perhaps justly, by
those qualified to form an opinion--the best shot in all India, and
with his rifle he had destroyed several hundreds (some say thousands)
of tigers. Hindoo-Rao had another very expensive hobby. He desired
to possess himself of the Philosopher's Stone, by which he might
transmute metals--a mode by which he proposed to improve the state
of his finances and eventually pay his debts. On all other points,
Hindoo-Rao was sufficiently sensible and shrewd, but on this point he
was childish, if not insane. Thousands and thousands of pounds were
squandered by him in this absurd pursuit, for he was constantly the
victim of juggling forgers, swindlers, and rogues. His house was on
a hill immediately overhanging Delhi, and it has recently been made
famous throughout Europe as the position of one of our batteries.
Night after night in that house would furnaces blaze, while some
impostor, who pretended to have the secret, was at work with his
chemicals.
I ought to mention that this Mahratta chief was a near relation of the
royal family of Gwalior, and that he had been banished and pensioned
for having been engaged in some intrigues against the Gwalior State.
The Maharajah Hindoo-Rao was a great gourmand, and those who partook
of his dinners never forgot them. It was not often that the old chief
could be induced to discuss politics, but on the occasion of the 41st
Regiment of Infantry having mutinied at Delhi--a mutiny which, by the
way, was hushed up--I heard him very energetically exclaim: "Ah! if you
go on humouring your native soldiers in this way, they will never be
satisfied until they govern the country!"
The late Sir Charles James Napier visited Delhi while I was there. He
came, not as ordinary commanders-in-chief usually come, with a large
suite and an escort covering a square mile of encamping ground, but
attended only by two aides-de-camp and a military secretary. It was
on the morning of his Excellency's arrival that the mutiny in the
41st Regiment, to which I have just alluded, occurred. Sir Charles
reviewed the regiments then quartered at Delhi, including the 41st,
and complimented them _en masse_! The review over, Hindoo-Rao, who was
a great horseman, rode up to the commander-in-chief on his spirited
charger, and expressed the happiness it afforded him to see an officer
who had so distinguished himself in the military annals of his country.
Sir Charles appeared much pleased with the open, frank manner and
independent bearing of the old Mahratta chieftain, and accepted, on
behalf of himself and his staff, an invitation to dine with him that
evening. A large number of gentlemen, European and native, assembled
to meet his Excellency; and when Sir Charles returned thanks for the
honour that had been paid to him in drinking his health, he made
allusion to the pleasure that it afforded him in seeing Christians,
Hindoos, and Mussulmen on such good terms, and living together in such
amity and concord. What a change since that evening, which to me seems
but as yesterday! Several of our party, on that occasion, have become
chiefs of the recent rebellion, and were accessory to the massacre of
English gentlemen and ladies.
Hindoo-Rao died in eighteen hundred and fifty-four. His funeral was
thus described to me by a friend who witnessed it: "They dressed up the
old gentleman's corpse in his most magnificent costume, covered his
arms with jewelled bracelets of gold, with costly necklaces of pearls
and diamonds hanging down to his waist, placed him in a chair of state,
sat him bolt upright--just as he used to sit when alive--and thus,
attended by his relations, friends, and suite he was carried through
Delhi to the banks of the Jumna, where the body was burnt with the
usual rites, and the ashes thrown into the river."
Mr. Skinner also is dead. He died in eighteen hundred and fifty-five.
When I think of him I am rejoiced that he did not survive to be
brutally massacred, as his brothers have been; or to see his house
(near the Cashmere Gate) which was always the scene of good-fellowship
and good-feeling, turned into a battery by the rebels; or the church,
built by his father, burned and destroyed by the people who had for
years and years paid, or affected to pay, unqualified respect and
devotion to his family.
I made the acquaintance of another personage at Delhi, for whom I
had a very great liking and regard. This was Mirza Futteh Allee Shah
Bahadoor, the heir apparent to the throne of Delhi. He was a very
amiable and intelligent prince, and had an extraordinary thirst for
knowledge. Amongst other things that he was curious to learn was the
history of steam power, railroads, and the electric telegraph. For
hours together he would encourage me--nay, importune me, to talk with
him on these matters. _Apropos_ of this prince and his family--while
I was at Delhi the festival of the Eed came to pass, and there was an
omen which was variously interpreted. The King, in other words the
Great Moghul, sacrifices a camel. The King kills (or used to kill)
the camel with his own hand, by driving a spear into the breast of
the animal. On the occasion to which I now refer, the King, being
extremely old and feeble, was assisted by two attendants, and, in
attempting to drive the spear, it broke in two pieces. That was the
omen. The friends of Mirza Futteh Allee Shah Bahadoor interpreted
it as prognosticating the King's death and the speedy succession
of the heir apparent to the throne. Others, however, said that it
prognosticated the downfall of the King and of his throne for ever.
Mirza died about a year ago of an attack of cholera; and it may not be
premature perhaps to say that the throne of the Great Moghul will not
in future be recognised. There was another curious prophecy connected
with the throne of Delhi, and current for many years in the Punjab. It
was implicitly believed that the Sikh soldiery would one day or other,
and before long, sack Delhi; and, in eighteen hundred and forty-five,
when the Sikh army crossed our frontier, Delhi was its destination.
This prophecy has to some extent been fulfilled. The Sikh soldiers
have tasted of the plunder of Delhi. But who could ever have dreamed
that their entry into the city of the Great Moghul would be in company
with British soldiers? It is as though, and quite as incredible as
if, some one had predicted in eighteen hundred and sixteen that, in
eighteen hundred and fifty-five, the Queen of England, a grand-daughter
of George III., would be a guest at the Tuileries of an Emperor of the
French, and a nephew of Napoleon Bonaparte; and that such Queen would
be led upon the arm of such Emperor to visit the tomb of the Prisoner
of St. Helena.
After leaving Delhi I crossed over to Meerut, which was then, as it
always has been since its formation, the favourite station in the Upper
Provinces of India. In eighteen hundred and forty-six and forty-seven
there were as many as ten thousand troops quartered at Meerut,
including two regiments of British foot, a regiment of dragoons, and
three troops of horse (European) artillery. Until lately, it has always
been deemed prudent to keep a very large European force at Meerut in
order to keep Delhi (only forty miles distant) in check; for it was
stipulated in one of our treaties with the family of the Moghuls, that
no British infantry or cavalry, or other European troops, should ever
be quartered in the Imperial City or its immediate vicinity. When,
however, the Punjab was annexed, the European force at Meerut was
lessened to meet the exigencies of the times; and of late Meerut has
not been, in respect to the number of European troops, the station that
it was formerly.
There are no ancient buildings to be seen at Meerut. All is of European
structure. The church, the barracks, the court-houses, the treasury,
the theatre, the bungalows of the civilians and military officers,
as well as those of the merchants and "others," are all of brick and
mortar, lath and plaster; and they were for the most part thatched, so
that the Sepoys had very little trouble in setting fire to them. The
reason why houses are commonly thatched instead of tiled and shingled,
is that the thatch keeps the interior of the dwelling so very much
cooler.
While at Meerut I was a guest of the editor of the journal which used
to issue from that station, and as my stay extended over six weeks,
during which period I frequently assisted the editor in his work, I
gained some knowledge of the practical working of the press in the
Upper Provinces. I am authorized to make any use I please of this
knowledge.
In the first place I may mention that the order of Government
forbidding civilians or military men corresponding with the press, was,
to every intent and purpose, a perfect farce and a dead letter. On the
staff of the Meerut paper were several gentlemen belonging to each
branch of the service. These gentlemen not only wrote, but some of them
wrote for pay--for so much per column; while the correspondence columns
were filled with letters from covenanted civilians or commissioned
officers, judges, and magistrates, and their subordinates; brigadiers,
colonels, majors, captains, and subalterns contributed anonymously,
whenever the spirit moved them. Ay! and frequently the members of the
staff of the Governor-General and of the Commander-in-Chief would not
only send items of news, but comments thereon; and I have reason to
know that this practice was continued up to the date of the recent
outbreak, and is still continued. By the way, the late Major Thomas
was virtually the editor of the _Mofussilite_ at Agra at the time he
received his death wound in the field of battle. The Delhi newspaper
was also written for by civilians and military men of all grades.
It was the press that introduced to the notice of the Government many
clever and able men, who had no other interest to help them. I could
mention scores of instances, but two will suffice. Herbert Benjamin
Edwardes, of the Bengal Fusiliers, the "Brahminee Bull" of the _Delhi
Gazette_, and Mr. Campbell, of the Civil Service, who was "given up"
to Lord Dalhousie as the "Delator" of the _Mofussilite_, and promoted
to an office of great responsibility. In the last-mentioned paper
there also appeared, in eighteen hundred and forty-seven, forty-eight,
and forty nine, a series of leading articles on military reform and
other matters, some of which attracted the notice of Sir Charles
Napier. They came from the pen of General (then Major) Mansfield, of
the Fifty-third Foot, and at present chief of the staff of Sir Colin
Campbell. It was not to silence these men, who displayed their ability
in the newspapers, that they were placed in staff employ, or promoted.
On the contrary, I know that they were expected--and in some instances
requested--to use their pens in defence of certain Government measures;
and that, on several occasions, they did vigorous battle with their
former literary chief, the editor of the paper in which they first made
their appearance in print. I remember that on one occasion the editor,
on being beaten in an argument, headed his admission of the fact with
the following lines:--
Keen are our pangs; but keener far to feel
We nursed the pinion that impels the steel.
There are no newsmen in the Upper Provinces of India, nor, indeed,
in any of the Presidencies. Whoever wishes to take a journal must
subscribe for a certain period--year or half-year. The rates for the
_Mofussilite_, or _Delhi Gazette_, were three pounds twelve shillings
per annum, or two pounds per six months. The net profits of both these
papers, in eighteen hundred and forty-nine and fifty, were upwards
of five thousand pounds per annum. With the exception of the _Friend
in India_, when under the control of its original proprietor, these
journals of the North-West were by far the most remunerative of any in
the East.
There was a native newspaper published at Meerut, called the
_Jam-i-Jumsheed_, which title signifies a bowl or glass, into which if
you look, you will see what transpires in the whole world. The history
of this paper is very curious.
It was founded without the knowledge, privity, or consent of the
conductor of the European journal, by the head pressman, of his
establishment, who was a Brahmin. The editor of this native print,
which was lithographed in the Oordoo language, was the moonshee of the
English press at Meerut. He was well skilled in English, and his chief
employment was translating the native correspondence. Having constant
access to the desks of the compositors, this press moonshee acquired
a knowledge of every item of news furnished by European as well as
native correspondents, and of this knowledge he failed not to avail
himself. This, however, was but a small evil, comparatively. Unknown
to the conductor of the Meerut paper, a much greater evil arose from
the publication of the native print. Availing himself of such sources
of information, its editor seized the views of his employer--views
intended only for European eyes, and gave his own version of them
to his readers in the Hindoostanee language; and, what was equally
mischievous, he published quantities of matter which the conductor
of the Meerut paper thought proper to suppress after it was set up
in type. These were the morsels in which the native editor took most
delight. A single instance will suffice. The following appeared in the
leading columns of the _Jam-i-Jumsheed_, the facts having been kept out
of the columns of the Meerut paper, at the instance of the friends of
the gentleman who was guilty of the indiscretion:-
An act of retributive justice has just been committed by the
worthy magistrate of this district. It was supposed that an
escaped convict from the jail was secreted in a village about
four miles distant from this cantonment. In the dead of the
night, the magistrate, at the head of a large body of police,
visited the village, aroused the inhabitants from their
slumbers, and demanded the culprit. The villagers denied any
knowledge of him. The magistrate, with characteristic kindness
and consideration, gave them half-an-hour to make up their
minds. At the expiration of that time, as the culprit was not
produced, he set fire to the village. In those flames, which
illuminated the country for miles round, thirteen lives were
sacrificed; namely, those of three men, four women, and six
children. One of the unfortunate women was in labour at the
time. Some malicious natives in the neighbourhood of Meerut
give out that the Sahib has been notoriously mad for several
years past. Let us hope, however, that the Lieutenant-Governor
will not heed such insinuations, but after complimenting the
magistrate on his vigour and his zeal, appoint him to the first
judgeship that may become vacant. No less than six hundred
persons are, by this fire, rendered homeless beggars. But what
of that? Must justice be obstructed?
It remains for us to add that the escaped convict of whom
the magistrate was in search, has been in Oude for the past
month, and that no notice of this affair will appear in any of
the papers printed in English and edited by the Sahib Logue.
Those gentlemen are far too modest to make known the manifest
blessings which arise out of British rule in India.
For upwards of a year and a-half the native paper went on filching
news, and writing in the above strain. At length the conductor of the
Meerut journal was furnished with some information which led to his
discharging his employées, the head pressman and the moonshee, and
breaking up their journal, the _Jam-i-Jumsheed_. And more than this
was done. The danger of permitting native newspapers to be published
without any sort of supervision was elaborately, and from time to time
dwelt upon by the English editor, and at length the Government was
moved to call for a return of the journals printed in the Hindoostanee
language in the Upper Provinces of India, and for an account of the
number of copies that each issued. With this return and account the
Government was well satisfied; first, because the aggregate circulation
was so ridiculously small (comparatively), that it was quite clear that
the native press had no power or influence; and, secondly, that the
tone of the best conducted and most respectable journals of the native
press were loud in their praises of British rule, and firm supporters
of the Government. It was overlooked with reference to the first point,
that in no country, and in India especially, is the actual circulation
of a newspaper any criterion of the number of persons acquainted with
its contents, its chief items of intelligence, and its sentiments on
the most important questions of the day. Let us take for example, the
greatest paper in the world--the _Times_. Compare the number of copies
that are struck off daily with the number of hands into which that
paper passes, the number of eyes that read it, and the number of ears
that listen to hear it read. As to the second point, the praise of the
Government of India, it was laughable to hear it mentioned, albeit the
subject was of so serious a character. That praise was bestowed very
much in the same spirit that Jack Wilkes is said to have conveyed a
serious warning, with a humorous grin, to an election mob--"I hear
that it is your intention, gentlemen, to take that person (there!)
who is interrupting me, place him under that pump, and duck him! Now,
if you should do so, no matter how much it may be for his own good,
you will--I give you this emphatic warning--incur my most serious
displeasure, gentlemen!" They (the native editors) used to wrap up the
most bitter irony in the most complimentary phrases, and frequently
their allusions, if viewed abstractedly, were both humorous and witty.
A case in point. The late Lieutenant-Governor of the North-Western
Provinces, a few years ago, presided at an examination of the students
of a Government public school. Amongst other questions which his honour
put to the boys of the first class was this--"How does the world go
round?" The head boy, a very intelligent Hindoo, gave an admirable
reply--spoke, as the saying is, like a book. The editor of a native
paper, in a notice of the examination, predicted that this boy would
come to a bad end for giving such an answer to the Lieutenant-Governor
of the North-West Provinces. "He ought," said the native editor, "when
so questioned by so potent a ruler, as to the cause of the world's
going round, to have flung science into the gutter, and, having assumed
the most cringing attitude imaginable, he should have placed his hands
together, and then have responded meekly, 'By your honour's grace,
favour, and kindness, does this planet revolve upon its axis.'" This
same editor once wrote a notice of a ball given by the officers of
the Horse Artillery mess at Meerut to the ladies of the Twenty-ninth
Foot, on the occasion of that last-mentioned and distinguished regiment
coming to the station. When translated, literally, to an Englishman
this notice would seem the most flattering account possible; but, if
such Englishman took it in the sense in which Asiatics understood and
comprehended it, he would, without any sort of doubt, have admitted
that it was the most extraordinary and ingenious admixture of satire
and obscenity that ever was printed and published!
The same editor, during the second Sikh campaign, burlesqued the
despatches of Lord Gough; but so cleverly, that they were taken by
English people, who heard them translated, as genuine productions. This
was the man who never lost an opportunity of bringing British rule in
India into disgrace, ridicule, and contempt amongst his countrymen, and
who, eventually, by producing his writings, and having them translated
literally, succeeded in obtaining an appointment under the Government
worth one hundred and fifty rupees per mensem! The great article
on which his good fortune was based, was one descriptive of Lord
Dalhousie, on the back of an elephant, proceeding to a spot appointed
as the place of an interview between his Lordship and the late
Maharajah Goolab Singh. Neither the London nor the Paris _Charivari_
ever surpassed this squib, so far as its spirit of ridicule was
concerned, while in point of mischief those European journals of fun
would never have dreamed of going the lengths of the Asiatic writer.
"What became of this native editor?" may be reasonably asked. I hear
that he is now aide-de-camp and military secretary to Bahadoor Khan,
the rebel, who is at the head of a considerable army, and, according to
the latest accounts, in possession of the entire Bareilly district. He
(the native editor) is a Mahommedan, of very ancient and good family;
he has an extremely handsome person and plausible manners, and should
I again wander in India, it will not at all surprise me to find him
in the service of the British Government, and filling some office of
considerable dignity and emolument.
I have incidentally spoken of the theatre at Meerut. It was a building
about the size of the Adelphi Theatre, and was built by subscription,
some twenty-five years ago. The performers were, of course, amateurs,
officers in the civil and military services, and now and then an
interloper, possessed of histrionic abilities. The ladies were those
young gentlemen who could be best made up to imitate the gentler sex.
The scene-painters, scene-shifters, prompters, and so on, were men
belonging to the various European corps quartered in the station,
men who had been about, or connected with, London theatres, and who
understood their business thoroughly. On an average, there was a
performance once a fortnight. Tragedy was seldom or never attempted;
nothing but standard comedies and approved farces. It pains me to
think of the last performance I witnessed on the Meerut boards;
for, with the exception of myself and another gentleman, every one
who had a character assigned to him is now numbered with the dead.
The play was _The Lady of Lyons_. Claude Melnotte was an officer in
the Governor-General's Body-guard; his height was under five feet,
and his weight exactly eight stone. Pauline was the magistrate of
Bolund-Shahur, who was six feet three, and weighed twenty-one stone and
some pounds. In short, Claude was about the smallest, and Pauline about
the biggest man, in British India. These two died of natural causes
within the last three years. The rest have all been massacred or killed
in action. Some perished at Cawnpore, and other stations, and some have
fallen before Delhi and before Lucknow. And, alas! amongst the audience
of that night, how many have since been prematurely despatched from
this world--men, women, and children!
There are some matters connected with theatricals in India, in the
Upper Provinces, which would strike any gentleman or lady fresh from
Europe as very odd. Huge punkahs are suspended from the ceiling, and
pulled by natives during the performance. Without the punkahs the
heat in the house would be unbearable. Then, there are no boxes, and
there is no pit. One part of the house, that nearest to the stage, is
set apart for the officers civil and military, and their wives and
families. The rest of the house is generally filled by non-commissioned
officers and private soldiers. As a matter of course, the greatest
order prevails throughout the play, which is usually produced "under
the patronage of the officer commanding the station and his lady." The
actors are never hissed; but the applause, in which the men always
join, is loud, long, frequent, and encouraging.
In most of the large stations, where European troops are
quartered--such stations as Meerut, Agra, Umballah, Cawnpore,
Lahore--the non-commissioned officers and men of the regiments get
up theatrical performances, which are attended by the society, And
very creditably, too, do they perform. I have seen a sergeant of the
8th Foot (Colonel Greathead's regiment) play, at Agra, the character
of Doctor O'Toole, in _The Irish Tutor_, in a style and with a racy
humour which reminded me more of the late Mr. Power than any actor
on the metropolitan or provincial boards in England ever did. And at
Umballah, I have seen a corporal of the Third Dragoons act the part
of _The Stranger_ in a way that moved an audience, "unused, albeit to
the melting mood," in the literal sense of the phrase, to involuntary
tears. But by far the best actor (I am speaking of non-professionals)
that I ever listened to, considering the range of characters that he
played, was a private in the 9th Lancers. I would have gone night
after night, to see him in tragedy, comedy, or farce; or even to hear
him sing a sentimental or a comic song. He was a younger brother of
an intelligent, influential, rich, and deservedly respected London
tradesman, whose name is known in every quarter of the world where
the English language is spoken. It behoves me to say that these three
men (who, by the way, are all dead) were possessed of great general
ability, and had, respectively, received a good education.
It is not for a wanderer and an interloper like myself to make any
suggestions to an enlightened (I use the word advisedly) Government;
but I do hope that when order is restored throughout our Eastern
dominions, when the affairs of the country are a matter of local
consideration, the health, comfort, and recreation of the British
soldier in those hot plains will command more attention than has
hitherto been bestowed upon them. I hope to see barracks in which the
men can live in comparative comfort--barracks lofty and spacious, and
fitted with punkahs, and other conveniences such as are required for
the climate, and such as one always finds in the abodes of officers and
gentlemen. I hope to see separate sleeping apartments for the married
couples, and separate sleeping apartments for the mass of children
above seven and eight years of age. I hope never again to see men,
women, young girls, and boys, and infant children, so huddled together
that those who escaped demoralization ought to have been exhibited as
curiosities of the human species. I hope never again to behold white
children, girls of thirteen years of age, the offspring of British
soldiers, married, in order that they might remain in the regiment.
"Surely," I once remarked to the Colonel of a Royal regiment in India,
who made some remarks on the painful topic last alluded to--"Surely
this might be obviated?"
"Yes, my good sir," was his reply. "But it would cost this Government
an outlay of a few thousands of rupees. A little while ago I had a
battle with the Government. I insisted on having punkahs hung up in
the barracks, and I spoke in a tone so decided that even the frowsy
military board--composed of several very old and feeble Company's
officers of the last century--was frightened into something like
activity. Well, sir, the punkahs were suspended, and I fancied that I
had gained an immense triumph; but I was very much mistaken. It was a
case of 'There are your punkahs, and now let your men pull them, or
employ the natives to do so!' So that the punkahs, after all, instead
of promoting a current of fresh air, impeded it, and served only as
perches for the flies, and cobweb-booms for the spiders. The idea of
the poor men paying for punkah coolies!"
"What would it cost to punkah the whole regiment during the hot
season?" I asked.
"I can tell you exactly," said the colonel: "for I have made a correct
estimate. The cost for the five hot months would be under three hundred
pounds; and by laying out this sum the Government would save some three
thousand or four thousand pounds a-year, at the very least."
"How so?"
"Many men cannot bear the heat of these barrack rooms, crowded as they
are, and left without punkahs. The consequence is, that they become
ill, go into hospital and die there, or spend the greater part of their
time there. I should say that if the men had better accommodation,
and the same means as _we officers_ have of keeping their apartments
cool, we should save in every regiment fifty lives annually. Now,
every recruit who comes from home and joins a regiment in the Upper
Provinces, to fill up a death or casualty in the ranks, costs the
Indian Government a hundred and ten pounds sterling. I have pointed all
this out; but it is of no use."
"I would report it to the Horse Guards," said I.
"I did so, two years ago."
"And what did the Horse Guards say in reply to your statements?"
"Precisely what the learned world said of poor George Primrose's
paradoxes--they said nothing. They treated them with dignified silence,
and perhaps contempt. However, I did not stop there. I went further."
"You addressed the Throne, or Prince Albert?"
"No; I did not go so far as that. We had just got the Albert hat out,
and after a careful examination of it, I came to the conclusion that
his Royal Highness would hardly be disposed to give much ear to my
complaint touching the discomfort of the British troops in India. But
I wrote to an elder brother of mine, who represents a borough in
Parliament, and I begged of him to bring under the notice of the House
of Commons the condition of the British soldier in India, and move for
a report of the officers in command of the various regiments doing duty
in this country."
"And he did so, I hope?"
"Not he. He wrote to me to say that he had never spoken in the House,
and never intended doing so, as he had not the faintest ambition to
become a public orator; but that he had shown my letter to several
friends of his (members of Parliament), who would only be too glad of
an opportunity of bringing themselves into notice; and that they, one
and all, blew upon it, remarking that the condition of the British
soldier in any part of the world was a frightful bore; but that the
condition of the British soldier in the East was a bore utterly beyond
toleration. 'My dear George,' (he went on to say to me), 'your story
would only be received with an ironical hear, hear! followed by a
series of coughs, as though the subject had given the House a sudden
chill and a very bad cold. Even that garrulous goose, Jamsey, to whom
(in despair, and in order to oblige you) I showed your letter--even
Jamsey, who is always ready to talk for hours about everything or
anybody, shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, sighed, lifted up his
hands, groaned, _It won't do_, and left me. Find out some indigo-planter
who has been, or is supposed to be, guilty of some sort of oppression
towards a sable cultivator of the soil, and we will pretty soon grind
his bones to make our bread, my boy; but, for Heaven's sake, and the
sake of the House of Commons, don't inflict upon us your British
soldiers."
To leave the colonel, and express my further hopes--I hope to see
in every large station throughout India two Christian churches
erected--one for the Protestants and another for the Roman Catholics.
Both erected at the expense of the Government. I hope to see, also,
in every large station, a library to which every soldier, at stated
hours, shall have access. I hope to see soldiers' gardens--such as
the late Sir Henry Lawrence recommended--in which the men may, when
they feel disposed, work, or amuse themselves in the cold season. I
hope to see a theatre in every large station built and kept in repair,
not by subscription from the poor men, but at the cost of the State.
I hope, in fact to see the British soldier in the East--not petted,
pampered, and made a fuss of, but made as sensibly comfortable as the
climate in which he serves will admit of his being made. I hope, from
the bottom of my heart, never to see brave men put into such a barrack
as that at Loodianah, which fell in upon, and buried in its ruins,
the remnant of her Majesty's 50th Regiment of Foot: one of the most
gallant regiments in the Army List. They went into the field, during
the first Sikh campaign, nine hundred strong. Nine hundred bright
bayonets glittered in the sun as they marched away to give the foe (in
the words of Lord Gough) "a taste of cold stale." They were at Moodkee,
Ferozeshah, Aliwal, and Sobraon. Out of that nine hundred, only three
hundred returned to quarters in March, eighteen hundred and forty-six.
In three months, six hundred had fallen in battle! The campaign over,
they were quartered at Loodianah, and placed in barracks which had
been frequently reported rotten, unsound, and dangerous. But of this
report--though forwarded by the Commander-in-chief--the military board
took no notice. The consequence was, that in a dust-storm on the night
of the twenty-first of May, ten years ago, the barracks came down!
Beneath that mass of dust and smoke, and unburnt bricks, lay all the
men, women, and children, left to represent the glorious 50th Regiment
of Foot! Beneath that mass were the heroes who had escaped the carnage
of the battle-fields in which three to one of the Regiment had died!
Fifty-one men, eighteen women, and twenty-nine children, were killed by
the fall of those barracks; one hundred and twenty-six men, thirty-nine
women, and thirty-four children, were badly wounded--many maimed and
disfigured for life! Well might the Colonel of that regiment cry aloud,
"My God! there is no 50th left! The enemy did its worst; but it is the
Company Bahadoor that has given us the finishing blow!"
The English reader may possibly doubt the accuracy of these details;
but there is a huge grave at Loodianah containing the bones of those
men, women, and children of the 50th; and scores of officers still live
to bear testimony to the truth of my assertions in respect to this
horrible catastrophe.
The engineer at Loodianah was written to by the secretary of the
Military Board, and asked why he had not made a report of the state of
the barracks which had fallen in? He replied that he had written three
letters on the subject, and that his predecessor in office had written
seven; and the foolish man was stupid enough to ransack the records
of his office, and "had the honour to transmit for information of the
Board copies of these documents." For this absurd effort of memory, and
ridiculous attempt to clear himself of blame, he was removed from his
appointment, and sent to do duty with the Sappers and Miners--a sort of
very severe punishment in the East for any engineer officer guilty of
an indiscretion.