I was twelve days marching from Bijnore to Umballah, and, by keeping
away from the high-road, I did not see during my journey a single
European face. I moved entirely amongst the people, or rather the
peasantry, of the Upper Provinces of India--a very poor and very
ignorant peasantry, but, comparatively speaking, civil and honest. Sham
made a much greater impression upon them than I did; mounted on his
pony, and dressed in very gay attire--a purple velvet tunic, pyjamahs
of red silk trimmed with gold lace, a turban of very gorgeous aspect,
and shoes embroidered all over with silver. He had more the appearance
of a young rajah or prince than a gentleman's servant. And Sham talked
to his countrymen--if the wretched Hindoos could be so called--in a
lofty strain which vastly amused me, though I did not approve of it. I
said nothing, however. As for the camp arrangements, he had completely
taken them out of my hands, and he was so much better manager than
myself that I was well content that it should be so; all that was left
to me was to name the hour for departing from an encampment-ground, and
the next spot whereon I wished my tents pitched.
It was past six o'clock on the morning of the 20th of April, when I
came within a few miles of Umballah. The mornings and the nights were
still cool; but, in the day the heat was beginning to be very severe.
However, after taking my coffee and making my toilet, I caused my pony
to be re-saddled, and, followed by Sham mounted on his pony, rode into
the cantonments, inquiring my way, as I went along, of the various
servants who were moving about. I eventually found myself at the door
of a bungalow, which was tenanted by a very old friend and distant
connexion of mine. He was an officer in one of her Majesty's regiments
of foot, then stationed at Umballah.
"You will sleep here, of course, during your stay," he said; "but you
are the guest of the mess, remember. We have settled all that, and we
will go up in the buggy presently to deposit your pasteboard in the
mess reading room. I will point out to you where you will always find
your knife and fork, and I will introduce to you all the servants--the
mess-sergeant especially."
I must now digress for a brief while, in order to give the uninitiated
reader some idea of Indian etiquette as it exists amongst Europeans,
members of society. In other countries, or at all events in England,
when a gentleman goes to take up his abode, for a long or a short
period, in a strange locality, it is usual for the residents, if they
desire to show him any civility, or make his acquaintance, to call
upon him in the first instance. In India the reverse is the case.
The stranger must make his round of calls, if he wishes to know the
residents; and, what is more, he must leave his cards on the mess,
"for the colonel and officers of her Majesty's ---- Regiment." You may
leave a card on every officer in the regiment, from the senior colonel
down to the junior ensign; and each of them may, and possibly will,
invite you to his private board; but, if you omit to leave a card on
the mess, it would be a gross breach of decorum in any member of the
mess to invite you to dine at the mess-table, because you have "not
left a card on the mess." And not only to the royal regiments does the
rule pertain, but to every regiment in India, and to every brigade of
artillery.
Having left my cards at the mess of the regiment to which my friend
belonged, I was driven to the mess-house of the ---- Dragoons, where
another expenditure of cards was incurred; then to the mess-houses of
the two native infantry regiments, and the mess-house of the native
cavalry regiment. I was then whisked off to the house of General Sir
Doodle Dudley, G.C.B., who commanded the division. The General was very
old, close upon eighty; but he was "made up" to represent a gentleman
of about forty. His chestnut wig fitted him to perfection, and his
whiskers were dyed so adroitly, that they were an exact imitation of
their original colour. The white teeth were all false; likewise the
pink colour in the cheeks and the ivory hue of the forehead. As for the
General's dress, it fitted him like a glove, and his patent leather
boots and his gold spurs were the neatest and prettiest I had ever
seen. In early life Sir Doodle had been a rival and an acquaintance
of Beau Brummell. When a Colonel in the Peninsular war, he had been
what is called a very good regimental officer; but, from 1818 until
his appointment to India, in 1847, as a General of Division, he had
been unattached, and had never done a single day's duty. He was so
hopelessly deaf, that he never even attempted to ask what was said to
him; but a stranger, as I was, would scarcely have credited it; for the
General talked, laughed, and rattled on as though he were perfectly
unconscious of his infirmity. I ventured a casual remark touching the
late dust-storm which had swept over the district, to which the General
very vivaciously replied:--
"Yes, my good sir. I knew her in the zenith of her beauty and
influence, when she was a lady patroness of Almack's, and the chief
favourite of his Royal Highness the Prince Regent. Oh, yes! she is
dead, I see by the last overland paper; but I did not think she was so
old as they say she was--eighty-four. Only fancy, eighty-four!" Then
darting off at a tangent, he remarked, "I see they give it out that I
am to have the command-in-chief at Bombay. The fact is, I don't want
Bombay, and so I have told my friends at the Horse Guards at least a
dozen times. I want the governorship and the command-in-chief at the
Cape; but, if they thrust Bombay upon me, I suppose I must take it. One
can't always pick and choose, and I fancy it is only right to oblige
now and then."
"We shall be very sorry to lose you, General," said my friend,
mechanically; "very sorry indeed."
"So I have told his Excellency," exclaimed the General, who presumed
that my friend was now talking on an entirely different subject. "So
I have told him. But he will not listen to me. He says that if the
court-martial still adheres to its finding of murder, he will upset
the whole of the proceedings, and order the man to return to his duty;
and the court _will_ adhere to its original finding; for the court
says, and I say, that a private who deliberately loads his firelock,
and deliberately fires at and wounds a serjeant, cannot properly be
convicted of manslaughter only. Well, it cannot be helped, I suppose.
The fact is, the commander-in-chief is now too old for his work; and he
is, as he always was, very obstinate and self-willed." And the General
continued, "For the command of an army or a division in India, we
want men who are not above listening to the advice of the experienced
officers by whom they are surrounded!"
When we were leaving the General, he mistook me for my friend and my
friend for me, and respectively addressed us accordingly (his eyesight
was very imperfect, and he was too vain to wear glasses). He thanked me
for having brought my friend to call upon him, and assured my friend
that it would afford him the greatest pleasure in the world if the
acquaintance, that day made, should ripen into friendship.
"He is an imbecile," I remarked, when we were driving away from the
General's door.
"Yes; and he has been for the last six or seven years," was the reply.
"But he must be labouring under some delusion with respect to being
appointed to the command-in-chief of an Indian presidency?"
"Nothing of the kind. He is certain of it. He will go to Bombay before
six weeks are over, you will see."
The General _did_ go to Bombay, where he played such fantastic tricks
before high heaven, that the angels could not have "wept" for laughing
at them. Amongst other things, he insisted on the officers of the
regiments buttoning their coats and jackets up to the throat, during
the hottest time of the year. He would have nothing unmilitary, he
said, "hot climate or no hot climate." He was quite childish before he
relinquished his command, and was brought home just in time to die in
his fatherland, and at the country-seat of his aristocratic ancestors.
Although utterly unfitted, in his after life, to command troops, he was
a very polished old gentleman, externally; and, having enjoyed a very
intimate acquaintance with Blücher, and other celebrated commanders, he
could repeat many anecdotes of them worthy of remembrance. "Blücher,"
he used to say, "generally turned into bed all standing, jack-boots
included; and, if his valet forgot to take off his spurs, and they
became entangled with the sheets, woe betide the valet. The torrent of
abuse that he poured forth was something terrific." I also heard the
General say that Blücher, having seen everything in London, remarked
with great earnestness, "Give me Ludgate Hill!" and on being asked to
explain why, replied, with reference to the number of jewellers' and
silversmiths' shops which in that day decorated the locality,
"Mein Gott! what pillage!"
After leaving the General's house, we called upon some six or eight
other magnates of Umballah for the time being; and on returning to
the mess-house at the hour of tiffin, I was rather fatigued. The
scene, however, revived me considerably. There were seated round the
large table, in the centre of the lonely room, some seventy or eighty
officers of all ranks, from the various regiments in the station. There
was to be a meeting held that day at the mess-room, to discuss some
local matter, and the majority of those present had been invited to
"tiff" previously. No one was in uniform--at least, not in military
uniform; all wore light shooting-coats and wide-awake hats, covered
with turbans. The local question, touching the best means of watering
the mall, where the residents used to take their evening ride or drive,
having been discussed, the party broke up. Some went to the different
billiard-rooms to play matches (for money, of course); others retired
to private bungalows to play cards, or read, while reclining on a couch
or a bed, or a mat upon the floor. Every one smoked and sipped some
sort of liquid. It was to a room in my friend's bungalow that eleven of
the party, inclusive of myself, repaired, to while away the time until
sundown, by playing whist.
Never did the character of an officer's life in India strike me so
forcibly as on that afternoon. There was an air of lassitude and
satiety about every one present. The day was hot and muggy, and the
atmosphere very oppressive. It was a fatiguing bore to deal the cards,
take up the tricks, mark the game, or raise to one's lips the claret
cup which Sham had been called upon to brew. Sham was well known to
most of the officers of the regiment to which my friend belonged. He
had made their acquaintance (to use his own words) when he was on the
Governor-General's staff.
The three men who had not cut in at whist were lounging about,
and making ineffectual attempts to keep up a conversation. The
shooting-coats and the waistcoats were now discarded, and the
suspenders, and the shoes, or boots; in short, each person only wore
strictly necessary clothing, while the native (coolie) in the verandah
was ever and anon loudly called upon to pull the punkah as strongly
as possible. That room that afternoon presented a perfect picture of
cantonment life in India during the summer season, between the hours of
two and half-past five, P.M. The body is too much exhausted to admit
of any serious mental exertion beyond that which sheer amusement can
afford; and it is by no means uncommon to find your partner or yourself
dropping off to sleep when called upon to lead a card, or follow suit.
The three men who were sitting (or lying) out, soon yielded to the
influence of the punkah, closed their eyes, and got up a snore, each
holding between his fingers the cheroot he had been smoking.
Ah, yes! It is very bad to have to endure the frightful heat--to feel
one's blood on the broil, even under a punkah, and with doors and
windows closed, to exclude the hot air of the open day. But what must
it be for the men, the privates and their wives and children? They
have no punkahs, though it has been shown that they might have them
at a trifling cost. They have no cold water, much less iced water to
sip--though they might have it, if the authorities had the good sense
(to put humanity entirely out of the question) to be economical of
that invaluable commodity in India, British flesh and blood. They,
the men of the ranks, and their wives and children, have no spacious
apartments (with well-fitted doors and windows), to move about in,
though there is no reason why they should not have them, for the land
costs nothing, and labour and material is literally dirt-cheap in the
Upper Provinces of India.
"But the Royal Infantry Barracks at Umballah is a fine, large
building!" it may be suggested. I reply, "Not for a regiment one
thousand strong"--a regiment mustering one thousand bayonets, to say
nothing of the numerous women, and the more numerous children. In a
cold climate, it would be ample for their accommodation; but not here,
where in a room occupied by an officer, the thermometer frequently
stands at ninety-three degrees, and sometimes at one hundred and five
degrees. In the matter of ice, the reader must be informed how it is
manufactured. During the "cold weather," (as the winter is always
called,) small earthenware vessels of shallow build, resembling saucers
in shape, are filled with water, and placed in an open field, upon a
low bed of straw. At dawn of day there is a coating of ice upon each
vessel, of about the thickness of a shilling. This is collected by
men, women, and children (natives), who receive for each morning's,
or hour's work, a sum of money, in cowries, equal to about half of
a farthing. When collected, it is carried to an ice-pit, and there
stored. The expenses are borne by a subscription, and the amount for
each ticket depends entirely on the number of subscribers. In some
large stations, an ice-ticket for the hot season costs only three
pounds. In smaller stations it will cost six pounds. The amount of ice
received by each ticket-holder is about four pounds, and is brought
away each morning at daylight, in a canvas bag, enveloped in a thick
blanket, by the ticket-holder's own servant. It is then deposited in
a basket made expressly for the purpose. In this basket is placed the
wine, beer, water, butter, and fruit. The bag of solid ice is in the
centre of all these, and imparts to each an equal coldness. These
four pounds of ice, if properly managed, and the air kept out of
the basket, will cool an inconceivable quantity of fluids, and will
last for twenty-four hours--that is to say, there will be some ice
remaining when the fresh bag is brought in. If a bewildered khansamah,
or khitmutghur, in his haste to bring a bottle, leaves the basket
uncovered, the inevitable consequence is, that the ice melts, and there
is an end of it for the day. I have scarcely known a family in which
corporal punishment was not inflicted on the servant guilty of such
a piece of neglect. But, great as was the privation, it was always
cheerfully endured by the society, when the doctors of the various
departments indented on them for their shares of ice respectively.
And this occasionally happened, when the hospitals were crowded with
cases of fever. Scores and scores of lives were often saved by the
application of ice to the head, and the administration of cold drinks.
Ice is not manufactured below Benares. Calcutta and its immediate
neighbourhood revels in the luxury of American ice, which may be
purchased for three half-pence per seer (two pounds). The American
ships, trading to India, take it as ballast, which by the time it
arrives in the river Hooghley becomes a solid mass.
The sun has gone down, and it is now time to bathe and dress for
our evening drive. The band is playing. We descend from the buggy,
languidly; and languidly we walk first to one carriage and then to
another, to talk with the ladies who are sitting in them. They, the
ladies, wear a very languid air, as though life, in such a climate,
were a great burden--and it is, no doubt, a great burden from the
middle of April to the first week in October. There is a languid air
even about the liveliest tunes that the band plays. Then we languidly
drive to the mess-house for dinner. The dinner is more a matter of
form than anything else. But the wines, which are well iced, are
partaken of freely enough--especially the champagne. There is, of
course, no intoxication; but as the evening advances the company
becomes more jovial, and by the time the dessert is placed on the
table, that dreadful feeling of languor has, in a great measure, taken
its departure. It is now that the evening commences, and many very
pleasant evenings have been spent in that Umballah mess-room, despite
the heat. The colonel of the regiment to which my friend belonged was
a man of very good sense; and during the hot season he sanctioned his
officers wearing, except when on parade, a white twill jacket, of a
military cut, with the regimental button; and he had not the slightest
objection to a loose necktie instead of a tightly-fitting black stock.
This matter ought to have been sanctioned by the highest military
authority, the commander-in-chief; or rather, it ought to have been
stated in a general order that such rational attire was approved of,
instead of being left to the caprice of a colonel, or brigadier, or
general of division. The regiment of royal cavalry, too, were equally
fortunate in their colonel. He was also of opinion that the comfort
of the officers under his command was worthy of some consideration,
and he could not see the necessity of requiring a gentleman to sit
down to dinner in a thick red cloth jacket (padded), and buttoned up
to the very chin. But before I left Umballah, the old General altered
this, and insisted on "this loose and unsoldierlike attire being
instantly abandoned." He had overlooked it for several months, or, at
all events, had expressed no objection; but suddenly the major-general
commanding was aroused to observe with great regret that the dress in
some regiments was fast becoming subversive, &c., &c. The reason of
the major-general's sudden acuteness of observation was this:--he was
about to give a ball at his own house, and for some inexplicable cause
had not invited any of the officers of her Majesty's ---- Regiment of
Foot. But on the morning of the night on which the ball was to take
place, he requested his aide-de-camp to write the following note:--
"The Major-General commanding the Division desires that
the band of H.M.'s ---- Foot may be in attendance at the
Major-General's house at half-past nine precisely."
And the band went at half-past nine, for the General had a perfect
right to order the men to attend at his house whenever he pleased; but
the band went without their musical instruments, for they (as I believe
is the case in all regiments) were the private property of the officers
for the time being, and, like the regimental plate, the loan thereof
for any particular occasion must be regarded as a matter of favour, and
not as a matter of right. So the General had no music out of the band:
and the officers in the station had no comfort in their dress, until
the General left the station for his command at Bombay.
It may possibly be imagined that the General had, in his earlier days,
done the State great service as a military commander, and for that his
appointment was the reward. Nothing of the kind. When he left the army,
and became unattached, he was only a regimental colonel, and had only
been once mentioned by the Duke of Wellington in his despatches, as
having gallantly led his regiment into action; for this single mention
he was made a brevet major-general and a C.B., while other colonels
who had performed precisely the same service, remained unpromoted
and undecorated. Sometimes, during his Indian career--not that he
was intoxicated by wine, for the General in his dotage was rather
abstemious--he would be utterly oblivious to the fact that he _was_ in
India, and would hold a conversation with some young ensign, (who had
been one of his dinner party, and who, in haste to get away early to
billiards, came up to say good night) after the following fashion:--
"Look here, my pretty boy, as you will be passing Fribourg and
Pontet's, just look in and tell them--O, how like you are to your dear
mother! I can remember her when she was thought, and truly, to be one
of the prettiest women in all Europe! Charming eyes--lovely complexion!
Well, look in at Fribourg and Pontet's."
"Yes, General."
"And tell them to send me a canister of the Duke of Kent's mixture. O!
how very like you are to your dear mother, my pretty boy! The last they
sent me had scent in it. Tell them I hate scent in snuff."
"Yes, General."
"O! how VERY like you are to your dear mother!"
(The General had never seen the boy's mother in the course of his long
and useless life.)
"Yes, General."
"Well, do not forget the snuff."
"O, no, General! Good night."
"God bless thee, my pretty boy! O! how like you are to your dear
mother!"
I do not mean to say that General Sir Doodle Dudley was an average
specimen of the General officers sent out by the Horse Guards to
command divisions in India. That would be untrue: for some, though
very old and inefficient, could see, hear, and understand. But within
the past ten years, some others that I know of have been sent out, to
Bengal alone, who were not one whit more efficient than General Sir
Doodle Dudley.
The nights being more enjoyable, comparatively, than the days, no
wonder that they are rarely given up for sleep by the majority of
military men or younger civilians in India. Of course, married men
with families must, and do, for the most part, lead regular lives, or,
at all events, conform to some fixed domestic rules. But it is not
so with the unmarried, who take their rest (sleep) much in the same
way that inveterate drunkards take their drink--"little and often."
You will see a young officer playing at billiards at half-past two or
three in the morning, and at five you will see him on the parade-ground
with his company. He has had his sleep and his bath, and, to use his
own words, he "feels as fresh as a three-year-old." Between seven and
twelve he will also have an hour or so of "the balmy," and then, after
tiffin, he will perhaps get a few winks while reading the newspaper or
a book, or while sitting on the bench in the billiard-room, "watching
the game." Have these young men, it may be asked, nothing to do? Have
they no occupation? Yes. They have to keep themselves alive and in
good spirits, and that is no easy task either, in the hot weather of
the Upper Provinces. Some of them (a few) in the East India Company's
Service will take to studying the languages, in the hope that
proficiency therein will lead to staff employ. Those, however, who do
not happen to have good interest to back their claims soon find out
that the order of the Governor-General in Council touching a knowledge
of the Native languages is a mere sham; and that ignorance clothed with
interest is--so far as advancement in life is concerned--far preferable
to a well-stored head and a steady character.