Our countrymen at home are frequently perplexed by the apparent
contradictions of a traveller from the East, when describing the
characters and manners of the inhabitants of Hindostan. If, for
instance, he alludes to our gallant sepoys, he pours forth unmeasured
praise, and appears altogether charmed with their docility, courage,
honour, and fidelity. On the other hand, his opinion of the natives in
the aggregate is often as exactly the reverse as it is possible to
imagine. They are described, perhaps, in the strongest terms, as at once
servile, cowardly, treacherous, and ungrateful. The fact is, that our
troops are all from the northern provinces of India, the natives of
which are a brave and generous race, who hold the profession of arms in
the highest estimation. The _Bengallees_ on the contrary, (with the most
universal and shameless indifference to truth,) are mean, effeminate,
and avaricious. They are chiefly composed of merchants, copying clerks,
mechanics, and domestic servants, and are invariably refused admittance
into the company's army. These people are vastly inferior to the natives
of the upper provinces in mental and corporeal energy, though more
polished in their manners, and more easily initiated into the arts and
mysteries of civilized life. I will illustrate the nice sense of honour
which distinguishes the native soldier by the following anecdote.
A sepoy of the Bengal native infantry was accused by one of his comrades
of having stolen a rupee and a pair of trousers. The sergeant-major
before whom, in the first instance, the charge was brought, was both
unable and unwilling to give it credence. Besides the unusual
circumstance of a native soldier being guilty of so base an act, the
accused sepoy had always been remarkably conspicuous for his brave and
upright conduct. His breast was literally covered with medals, and he
had long been accustomed to the voice of praise. Still, however, justice
demanded that the charge should not be dismissed without an impartial
investigation. The whole affair was brought to the notice of the
commanding officer, who desired that the sepoy's residence should be
immediately and thoroughly examined. On opening his knapsack, to the
utter astonishment and regret of the whole regiment, the stolen property
was discovered. None, however, looked more thunderstruck than the sepoy
himself. He clenched his teeth in bitter agony, but spoke not a single
word. The colonel told him, that though circumstances were fearfully
against him, he would not yet pronounce him guilty, as it was not
impossible he might be the victim of some malignant design. He therefore
dismissed him from his presence until the result of further inquiries
should produce a full conviction of his guilt or innocence. In a few
hours the sepoy was observed to leave his little hut, and walk with
hurried steps to a neighbouring field. He was soon concealed from sight
by a thick cluster of bamboos, beneath which he had often sheltered
himself from the noontide sun. Suspecting the purpose of his present
visit to so retired a spot, a comrade followed him, but was
unfortunately too late to arrest the hand of the determined suicide. The
poor fellow lay stretched on the ground, with his head hanging back, and
the blood gushing from his open throat. He had effected his purpose with
a sharp knife, which he still grasped, as if with the intention of
inflicting another wound. He was carried to the hospital, and carefully
attended, but the surgeon immediately pronounced his recovery
impossible. A pen and ink were brought to him, and he wrote with some
difficulty on a slip of paper, that he firmly hoped he had not failed in
his attempt to destroy himself, for life was of no value without honour.
He stated, too, that though it might now be almost useless to affirm his
innocence, he hoped that a time might come when his memory should be
freed from its present stain. He lingered no less than fifteen days in
this dreadful state, and died, at last, apparently of mere starvation.
It was my painful duty, as "officer of the day," to visit the hospital
very frequently, and he invariably made signs of a desire for food. This
it was, of course, impossible to give him, and any nourishment would
merely have prolonged his misery. Two days before he died, it was
discovered that a Bengallee servant of low caste, who had taken offence
on some trivial occasion, had placed the stolen goods in the sepoy's
bundle, and then urged the owner to accuse him of the theft. The
disclosure of this circumstance appeared to give infinite satisfaction
to the dying soldier.
_London Weekly Review._
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