Produced by Melissa McDaniel and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
TWELVE YEARS
OF A
SOLDIER'S LIFE IN INDIA.
If a soldier,
Chase brave employments with a naked sword
Throughout the world. Fool not; for all may have,
If they dare try, a glorious life or grave.
TWELVE YEARS
OF A
SOLDIER'S LIFE IN INDIA:
BEING EXTRACTS FROM THE LETTERS
OF THE LATE
MAJOR W. S. R. HODSON, B. A.
TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE;
FIRST BENGAL EUROPEAN FUSILEERS, COMMANDANT OF HODSON'S HORSE.
INCLUDING
A PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF THE SIEGE OF DELHI
AND CAPTURE OF THE KING AND PRINCES.
EDITED BY HIS BROTHER,
THE REV. GEORGE H. HODSON, M. A.
SENIOR FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
FROM THE THIRD AND ENLARGED ENGLISH EDITION.
BOSTON:
TICKNOR AND FIELDS.
M DCCC LX.
RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE:
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY
H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY.
[The following paper, by the author of "Tom Brown's School Days at
Rugby," appeared in "Fraser's Magazine:"--]
The heart of England has not, within the memory of living men, been so
deeply moved as by the Indian rebellion of 1857. It was a time of real
agony,--the waiting, week after week, for those scanty despatches,
which, when they came, and lay before us in the morning papers, with
huge capitals at the top of the column, we scarcely dared take up, we
could not read without a strong effort of the will. What it must have
been to those of us whose sisters, brothers, sons, were then in the
Northwest Provinces, they alone can tell; but of the rest we do
believe there was scarce a man who did not every now and then feel a
cold sinking of heart, a sense of shame at his inability to help, a
longing to make some sacrifice of money, ease, or what not, whereby to
lift, if it might be, a portion of the dead weight from off his own
soul. By degrees came the light. As the trial had been, so had been
the strength. The white squall was past; and though that great and
terrible deluge still heaved and tossed, we began to catch sight of
one and another brave ship riding it out. Our pulses beat quick and
our eyes dimmed as we heard and read how the little band of our
kindred had turned to bay, in tale after tale of heroic daring and
self-sacrificing and saintly endurance and martyrdom. The traces here
and there of weakness and indecision only brought out more clearly the
soundness and strength of the race which was on its trial; and from
amongst the thousands who were nobly doing their duty, one man after
another stood out and drew to himself the praise, the gratitude, and
the love of the whole nation. In all her long and stern history,
England can point to no nobler sons than these, the heroes of India in
1857. Thank God, many of them are left to us; but the contest was for
the life itself, the full price had to be paid, and one after another
the heroes paid it. Some fell, full of years and honors, whom the
mutiny found with names already famous; others in their glorious
mid-day strength; others fresh from England, in the first daring years
of early youth; of all ranks and professions,--generals, governors,
cadets, missionaries, civilians, private soldiers; but each heard the
call and obeyed it faithfully, loving not his own life; and we believe
that even in this hurrying, bewildering, forgetful age, England and
Englishmen will not let the name of one of them die.
At any rate, there is little chance that the subject of this paper
will be forgotten by his countrymen, for not only has he carved out
with his sword a name for himself which knows few equals even in
Indian story, but he has left materials which have enabled his brother
to put together one of the best biographies in our language.
_Twelve Years of a Soldier's Life in India_ is the history of the
career of Hodson of Hodson's Horse, the captor of the King of Delhi,
compiled from private letters written to different members of his
family.
To the book itself, as a literary work, high praise may be awarded.
There are four pages only which we could wish omitted; we mean those
(from p. 432 to p. 436) which contain the extracts from newspapers.
Able leading article writers and special correspondents, who as soon
as the firing is over, bustle up to battle-fields where their
country's noblest are dying, and sit down to catch the tale of every
_claqueur_, and spin the whole into thrilling periods, doubtless have
their use, and their productions are highly valued,--or, at any rate,
are highly paid for,--by the British public. The extracts in question
are favorable specimens, on the whole, of such commodities. But Hodson
has no need of them, and they jar on one's soul at the end of such a
book. With this exception, the book is a model of its kind. There is
not a word too much of the letters; in fact, we long for more of them,
while confessing that no additional number could bring the man or his
career more livingly before us; and the editor has, with rare tact,
given us just what was needed of supplementary narrative, and no more,
and has shown himself a high-minded gentleman and Christian by his
forbearance in suppressing the names of the men who enviously and
wickedly persecuted his brother. In a charming little preface he
compares that brother to Fernando Perez, the hero of the later Spanish
ballads, and then seems to doubt whether affection may not have
biassed his judgment. We think we may reassure him on this point. The
career of the Indian Captain of Irregulars may fairly challenge
comparison with that of Fernando Perez or any other hero of romance,
and we may well apply to the Englishman, lying in the death chamber at
Lucknow, the poet's touching farewell to the peerless knight
Durandarte, stretched on the bloody sward at Roncesvalles,--
"Kind in manners, fair in favor,
Mild in temper, fierce in fight;
Warrior nobler, gentler, braver,
Never shall behold the light."
But it is time for us to turn from the book to the man, and we think
our readers will thank us for giving them the best picture which our
space will allow of him and his work, as nearly as may be in his own
words; only begging them to bear in mind that these letters were
written in the strictest confidence to his nearest relations, and that
so far from wishing to make his own deeds known during his life, he
resolutely refused to allow his letters to be made public.
William Stephen Raikes Hodson, third son of the Archdeacon of
Stafford, was born in March, 1821, and went, when fourteen years old,
to Rugby, where he stayed for more than four years, two of which were
spent in the sixth form under Arnold. At school he was a bright,
pleasant boy, fond of fun, and with abilities decidedly above the
average, but of no very marked distinction, except as a runner; in
which exercise, however, he was almost unequalled, and showed great
powers of endurance. None of his old schoolfellows have been surprised
to hear of his success as the head of the Intelligence Department of
an army, or of his marvellous marches and appearances in impossible
places as Captain of Irregular Horse. Such performances only carry us
back to first calling over, when we used to see him come in splashed
and hot, and to hear his cheery "Old fellow! I've been to Brinklow
since dinner." But, as a boy, he was not remarkable for physical
strength or courage, and none of us would have foretold that he would
become one of the most daring and successful swordsmen in the Indian
army. We only mention the fact, because it is of great importance that
the truth in this matter, which the lives of Hodson and others have
established, should be as widely acknowledged as possible. A man born
without any natural defect can, in this as in other respects, make his
own character; no man need be a coward who _will_ not be one; and a
high purpose steadfastly kept in view will, in the end, help a man to
the doing of nobler deeds of daring than any amount of natural
combativeness.
From Rugby he went to Trinity, Cambridge, where he took his degree in
1844; but, fortunately for his country, and (let us own it, hard as it
is as yet to do so) for himself also, a constitutional tendency to
headache led him to choose the army rather than a learned profession.
After a short service in the Guernsey militia, which he entered to
escape superannuation, he got a cadetship, and embarked for India. Sir
William Napier, then Governor of Guernsey, gave him a letter to his
brother, Sir Charles, and himself wrote of him, "I think he will be an
acquisition to any service. His education, his ability, his zeal to
make himself acquainted with military matters, gave me the greatest
satisfaction during his service with the militia." His brother's
letter never was presented to Sir Charles Napier, as we infer from the
passage at p. 156, where it is mentioned again, "I didn't show him his
brother's letter," writes Hodson in 1850, "that he might judge for
himself first, and know me 'per se,' or rather 'per me.' I will,
however, if ever I see him again." He never saw Sir Charles again; but
what a glimpse of the man's character we get from these few lines.
On the 13th of September, 1845, Hodson landed in India, and went up
country at once to Agra. Here he found the Hon. James Thomason,
Lieutenant-Governor of the Northwest Provinces, a family friend and
connection, with whom he stayed till November 2d, when he was
appointed to do duty with the 2d Grenadiers, and began his military
career as part of the escort of the Governor-General, who was on his
way to the Punjab. In that quarter a black cloud had gathered, which
it was high time should be looked after.
Hodson, however, marches on, all unconscious, and his first letters
give no hint of coming battle, but contain a charmingly graphic
description of the life of an Indian army on march. Here, too, in the
very outset, we find that rare virtue of making the best of everything
peeping out, which so strongly characterized him.
"It is a sudden change of temperature, truly,--from near
freezing at starting, to 90 deg. or 100 deg. at arriving. It _sounds
hot_, but a tent at 84 deg. is tolerably endurable, especially
if there is a breeze."
At Umbala, he attends a grand muster of troops, and sees the
Irregulars for the first time.
"The quiet-looking and English-dressed Hindoo troopers
strangely contrasted with the wild Irregulars in all the
fanciful _un_uniformity of their native costume: yet these
last are the men _I_ fancy for service."
This was on the 2d of December. On Christmas-day he writes:--
"I have been in four general engagements of the most
formidable kind ever known in India. On the 10th, on our
usual quiet march we were surprised by being joined by an
additional regiment, and by an order for all non-soldiers to
return to Umbala."
Then comes the description of forced marches, and battles which one
feels were won,--and that was all. The same story everywhere as to the
Sepoys; at Moodkee,
"Our Sepoys could not be got to face the tremendous fire of
the Sikh artillery, and as usual, the more they quailed the
more the English officers exposed themselves in vain efforts
to bring them on.... At Ferozeshah on the evening of the
21st, as we rushed towards the guns in the most dense dust
and smoke, and under an unprecedented fire of grape, our
Sepoys again gave way and broke. It was a fearful crisis,
but the bravery of the English regiments saved us. A ball
struck my leg below the knee, but happily spared the bone. I
was also knocked down twice,--once by a shell bursting so
close to me as to kill the men behind me, and once by the
explosion of a magazine. The wound in my leg is nothing, as
you may judge when I tell you that I was on foot or
horseback the whole of the two following days.... No efforts
could bring the Sepoys forward, or half the loss might have
been spared, had they rushed on with the bayonet.... Just as
we were going into action, I stumbled on poor Carey, whom
you may remember to have heard of at Price's at Rugby. On
going over the field on the 30th, I found the body actually
cut to pieces by the keen swords of the Sikhs, and but for
his clothes could not have recognized him. I had him carried
into camp for burial, poor fellow, extremely shocked at the
sudden termination of our renewed acquaintance.... I enjoyed
all, and entered into it with great zest, till we came to
actual blows, or rather, I am (_now_) half ashamed to say,
till the blows were over, and I saw the horrible scenes
which ensue on war. I have had quite enough of such sights
now, and hope it may not be my lot to be exposed to them
again.... We are resting comfortably in our tents, and had a
turkey for our Christmas dinner." (pp. 66, 67, 68, 69.)
In the next letter the fight at Sobraon is described:--
"On we went as usual in the teeth of a dreadful fire of guns
and musketry, and after a desperate struggle we got within
their _triple_ and _quadruple_ intrenchments; and then their
day of reckoning came indeed. Driven from trench to trench,
and surrounded on all sides, they retired, fighting most
bravely, to the river, into which they were driven pellmell,
a tremendous fire of musketry pouring on them from our bank,
and the Horse Artillery finishing their destruction with
grape. I had the pleasure myself of spiking two guns which
were turned on us."
A rough baptism of war, this, for a young soldier! No wonder that when
the excitement is over, for the moment he thinks he "has had enough of
such sights." But the poetry of battle has entered into him, witness
this glorious sketch of a deed done by the 80th Queen's
(Staffordshire).
"I lay between them and my present regiment (1st E. B.
Fusiliers) on the night of the 21st of December, at
Ferozeshah, when Lord Hardinge called out '80th! that gun
must be silenced.' They jumped up, formed into line, and
advanced through the black darkness silently and firmly;
gradually we lost the sound of their tread, and anxiously
listened for the slightest intimation of their
progress;--all was still for five minutes, while they
gradually gained the front of the battery whose fire had
caused us so much loss. Suddenly we heard a dropping
fire,--a blaze of the Sikh cannon followed, then a thrilling
cheer from the 80th, accompanied by a rattling and murderous
volley as they sprang upon the battery and spiked the
monster gun. In a few more minutes they moved back quietly,
and lay down as before on the cold sand; but they had left
forty-five of their number and two captains to mark the
scene of their exploit by their graves."
And so in another month, when the war is over and the army on its
return, he "catches himself wishing and asking for more."
"Is it not marvellous, as if one had not had a surfeit of
killing? But the truth is _that_ is not the motive, but a
sort of undefined ambition.... I remember bursting into
tears in sheer rage in the midst of the fight at Sobraon at
seeing our soldiers lying killed and wounded."
His first campaign is over, and he goes into cantonments. The chief
impression left on his mind is extreme disappointment with the state
of the Sepoy regiments, which he expresses to Mr. Thomason:--
"In discipline and subordination they seem to be lamentably
deficient, especially towards the native commissioned and
non-commissioned officers. On the march, I have found these
last give me more trouble than the men even. My brother
officers say that I see an unfavorable specimen in the 2d,
as regards discipline, owing to their frequent service of
late, and the number of recruits; but I fear the evil is
very wide-spread. It may no doubt be traced mainly to the
want of European officers. This, however, is an evil not
likely to be removed on any large scale. Meantime, unless
some vigorous and radical improvements take place, I think
our position will be very uncertain and even alarming in the
event of extended hostilities. You must really forgive my
speaking so plainly, and writing my own opinions so freely.
You encouraged me to do so when I was at Agra, if you
remember, and I value the privilege too highly as connected
with the greater one of receiving advice and counsel from
you, not to exercise it, even at the risk of your thinking
me presumptuous and hasty in my opinions."
Acting upon these impressions, he applies for and obtains an exchange
into the 1st Bengal Europeans, in which he is eighth second-lieutenant
at the age of twenty-five, the junior in rank of boys of eighteen and
nineteen. He feels that he has difficult cards to play, but resolves
to make the best of everything, and regrets only "that the men who are
to support the name and power of England in Asia are sent out here at
an age when, neither by education nor reflection can they have learnt
all, or even a fraction of what those words mean. It would be a happy
thing for India and for themselves, if all came out here at a more
advanced age than now, but _one_ alone breaking through the custom in
that respect made and provided, must not expect to escape the usual
fate, or at least the usual annoyances, of innovators."
At this point an opening, of which he was just the man to make the
most, occurs. Mr. Thomason writes to Colonel, afterwards Sir Henry,
Lawrence, the new political agent at Lahore, introducing Hodson; and
at once a friendship, founded on mutual appreciation, springs up
between the two, to end only with their lives. The agent manages to
have the young soldier constantly in his office, and to get all sorts
of work out of him. As a reward, he takes him on an expedition into
Cashmere, in the autumn of 1846, whither they accompany the forces of
Gholab Singh, to whom the country had been ceded by treaty. The
letters from Cashmere on this occasion, and again in 1850, when he
accompanied Sir Henry on a second trip to Cashmere and Thibet, are
like nothing in the world but an Arabian Night which we feel to be
true. The chiefs, the priests, the monasteries, the troops, the
glorious country so misused by man, the wretched people, an English
lady, young and pretty, travelling all alone in the wildest part on
pony-back, all pass before us in a series of living photographs. We
have room, however, for one quotation only:--
"The women are atrociously ugly, and screech like the
witches in _Macbeth_,--so much so, that when the agent asked
me to give them a rupee or two, I felt it my duty to refuse,
firmly but respectfully, on the ground that it would be
encouraging ugliness.
"I am the luckiest dog unhung (he concludes) to have got
into Cashmere. I fancy I am the first officer of our army
who has been here save the few who have come officially."
Colonel Lawrence was not the man to let his young friend's powers of
work rust, so on their return we find Hodson set to build the famous
Hill Asylum for white children at Subathoo.
We may as well notice at once, in this early stage of his career, the
man's honest training of himself in all ways, great and small, to take
his place, and do his work in his world-battle; how he faces all
tasks, however unwonted, ill-paid, or humble, which seem to be
helpful; how he casts off all habits, however pleasant or harmless,
which may prove hindrances. And this he does with no parade or fine
sentiment, but simply, almost unconsciously, often with a sort of
apology which is humorously pathetic. For example, when set to work on
the Asylum, he writes:--
"Colonel Lawrence seems determined I shall have nothing to
stop me, for his invariable reply to every question is, 'Act
on your own judgment,' 'Do what you think right,' 'I give
you _carte blanche_ to act in my name, and draw on my
funds,' and so forth."
Which confidence is worthily bestowed. Hodson sets to work, forgetting
all professional etiquette, and giving up society for the time.
"Cutting trees down, getting lime burnt, bricks made, planks
sawn up, the ground got ready, and then watching the work
foot by foot; showing this "nigger" how to lay his bricks,
another the proper proportions of a beam, another the
construction of a door, and to the several artisans the
mysteries of a screw, a nail, a hinge. You cannot say to a
man, 'Make me a wall or a door,' but you must, with your own
hands, measure out his work, teach him to saw away here, to
plane there, or drive such a nail, or insinuate such a
suspicion of glue. And when it comes to be considered that
this is altogether new work to me, and has to be excuded by
cogitation on the spot, so as to give an answer to every
inquirer, you may understand the amount of personal exertion
and attention required for the work."
Again, a few months later, November, 1847,--
"I am in a high queer-looking native house among the ruins
of this old stronghold of the Pathans, with orders 'to make
a good road from Lahore to the Sutlej, distance forty
miles,' in as brief a space as possible. On the
willing-to-be-generally-useful principle, this is all very
well, and one gets used to turning one's hand to everything,
but certainly (but for circumstances over which I had no
control) I always labored under the impression that I knew
nothing at all about the matter. However, Colonel Lawrence
walked into my room promiscuously one morning, and said,
'Oh, Hodson, we have agreed that you must take in hand the
road to Ferozepore. You can start in a day or two;' and
_here I am_."
Again, in January, 1848, he has been sent out surveying.
"My present _role_ is to survey a part of the country lying
along the left bank of the Ravee and below the hills, and I
am daily and all day at work with compasses and chain, pen
and pencil, following streams, diving into valleys,
burrowing into hills, to complete my work. I need hardly
remark, that, having never attempted anything of the kind
hitherto, it is bothering at first."
Again, in April, 1848, he has been set to hear all manner of cases,
civil, criminal, and revenue, in the Lahore Court.
"The duty is of vast importance, and I sometimes feel a half
sensation of modesty at being set down to administer justice
in such matters so early, and without previous training. A
little practice, patience, and reflection, settle most cases
to one's satisfaction however; and one must be content with
substantial justice as distinguished from technical law."
Again, in a letter to his brother,--
"Did I tell you, by-the-bye, that I abjured tobacco when I
left England, and that I have never been tempted by even a
night's _al fresco_ to resume the delusive habit? Nor have I
told you (because I despaired of your believing it) that I
have declined from the paths of virtue in respect of beer
also, these two years past, seldom or never tasting that
once idolized stimulant!"
We have no space to comment; and can only hope that any gallant young
oarsman or cricketer bound for India who may read this, will have the
courage to follow Hodson's example, if he finds himself the better for
abstinence, notwithstanding the fascination of the drink itself, and
the cherished associations which twine round the pewter. My dear
boys, remember, as Hodson did, that if you are to get on well in India
it will be owing, physically speaking, to your digestions.
These glimpses will enable the reader to picture to himself how
Hodson, now Assistant to the Resident at Lahore, as well as second in
command of the Guides, was spending his time between the first and the
final Sikh war. Let him throw in this description of the duties of
"The Guides":--
"The grand object of the corps is to train a body of men in
peace to be efficient in war; to be not only acquainted with
localities, roads, rivers, hills, ferries, and passes, but
have a good idea of the produce and supplies available in
any part of the country; to give _accurate_ information, not
running open-mouthed to say that 10,000 horsemen and a
thousand guns are coming, (in true native style,) but to
stop to see whether it may not really be only a common cart
and a few wild horsemen who are kicking up all the dust; to
call twenty-five by its right name, and not say _fifty_ for
short, as most natives do. This of course wants a great deal
of careful instruction and attention. Beyond this, the
officers should give a tolerably correct sketch and report
of any country through which they may pass, be _au fait_ at
routes and means of feeding troops, and above all (and here
you come close upon political duties) keep an eye on the
doings of the neighbors, and the state of the country, so as
to be able to give such information as may lead to any
outbreak being nipped in the bud."
The reader will probably now be of opinion that the young lieutenant,
willing to make himself generally useful, and given to locomotion,
will be not unlikely to turn out a very tough nut for the Sikhs to
crack when they have quite made up their minds to risk another fight;
and that time is rapidly drawing near. All through the spring and
early summer months there are tumults and risings, which tell of a
wide conspiracy. Hodson, after a narrow escape of accompanying Agnew
to Mooltan, is scouring the country backwards and forwards, catching
rebels and picking up news. In September, the Sikhs openly join the
rebel Moolraj. General Whish is obliged to raise the siege of Mooltan;
the grand struggle between the cow-killers and cow-worshippers on the
banks of the Chenab has begun.
We wish we had space to follow Hodson and his Guides through the
series of daring exploits by which the Doab was cleared, and which so
enraged the Sikhs that "party after party were sent to polish me off,
and at one time I couldn't stir about the country without having
bullets sent at my head from every bush and wall." He was attached to
Wheeler's brigade during the greater part of the struggle, but joined
the army of the Punjaub in time for the battle of Gujerat, which
finished the war, and at which he and Lumsden his commander, and Lake
of the Engineers, are mentioned in Lord Gough's despatch as most
active in conveying orders throughout the action. We cannot however
resist one story. The old Brigadier, making all haste to join the
grand army, where he expects to get a division, leaves two forts at
Kulallwala and 4000 unbeaten rebels in his rear. He is ordered back to
account for them, whereupon Brigadier turns sulky. Hodson urges him to
move on like lightning and crush them, but "he would not, and began to
make short marches, so I was compelled to outmanoeuvre him by a bold
stroke." Accordingly he starts with 100 of his Guides, when
twenty-five miles from Kulallwala, and fairly frightens a doubtful
sirdar, "preparing munitions of war, mounting guns, and looking
saucy," out of his fort. Whereupon the Sikhs abandon a neighboring
fort, and the road to Kulallwala is open without a shot fired.
"In the morning I marched with my little party towards the
enemy, sending back a messenger to the Brigadier to say that
I was close to the place, and that if he did not come on
sharp they would run away or overwhelm me. He was dreadfully
angry, but came on like a good boy! When within a mile or so
of the fort, I halted my party to allow his column to get up
nearer, and as soon as I could see it, moved on quietly. The
_ruse_ told to perfection: thinking they had only 100 men
and myself to deal with, the Sikhs advanced in strength,
thirty to one, to meet me, with colors flying and drums
beating. Just then a breeze sprung up, the dust blew aside,
and the long line of horsemen coming on rapidly behind my
party burst upon their senses. They turned instantly, and
made for the fort; so, leaving my men to advance quietly
after them, I galloped up to the Brigadier, pointed out the
flying Sikhs, explained their position, and begged him to
charge them. He melted from his wrath, and told two
regiments of Irregulars to follow my guidance. On we went
at the gallop, cut in amongst the fugitives, and punished
them fearfully."
"The Brigadier has grown quite active, and _very fond of me_ since
that day at Kulallwala, though he had the wit to see how brown I had
done him by making him march two marches in one." It is certainly to
the Brigadier's credit that he does seem to have appreciated his
provoking "Guide," for he mentions him in the highest terms in
despatch after despatch, and at the close of the war comforts him
thus: "Had your name been Hay or Ramsay, no honors, no appointments,
no distinctions would have been considered too great to mark the
services you have rendered to Government."
The war ended, the Punjaub is annexed, and Hodson with it, who loses
all his appointments and returns to "the Guides."
He feels sore of course at the loss of his occupation and position,
but sticks to his drill-sergeant's work now that there is nothing
higher to do, and pities from his heart the dozens of regimental
officers at Peshawur who have not an hour's work in two days. It is a
recently formed station, with a flying column of 10,000 men there for
the hot months, and no books or society; "people are pitched headlong
on to their own resources, and find them very hard falling indeed."
The first Sikh war had opened Hodson's eyes as to the merits of the
Sepoys; the second makes him moralize much about the system of
promotion.
He concludes that for war, especially in India, "your leaders must be
young to be effective," in which sentiment we heartily agree;--but how
to get them? "There are men of iron, like Napier and Radetzky, aged
men whom nothing affects; but they are just in sufficient numbers to
prove the rule by establishing exceptions." And would not the
following be ludicrous, but that men's lives are in the balance?
"A brigadier of infantry, under whom I served during the
three most critical days of the late war, could not see his
regiment when I led his horse by the bridle until its nose
touched the bayonets; and even then he said faintly, 'Pray
which way are the men facing, Mr. Hodson?' This is no
exaggeration, I assure you. Can you wonder that our troops
have to recover by desperate fighting, and with heavy loss,
the advantages thrown away by the want of heads and eyes to
lead them?
"A seniority service, like that of the Company, is all very
well for poor men; better still for fools, for they must
rise equally with wise men; but for maintaining the
discipline and efficiency of the army in time of peace, and
hurling it on the enemy in war, there never was a system
which carried so many evils on its front and face."
His fast friend, Sir Henry Lawrence, again intervenes, and he is
appointed an Assistant Commissioner, leaving the Guides for a time.
In this capacity, in April, 1850, he comes across the new
Commander-in-Chief:--
"I have just spent three days in Sir Charles Napier's camp,
it being my duty to accompany him through such parts of the
civil district as he may have occasion to visit. He was most
kind and cordial; vastly amusing and interesting, and gave
me even a higher opinion of him than before. To be sure, his
language and mode of expressing himself savor more of the
last than of this century--of the camp than of the court;
but barring these eccentricities, he is a wonderful man; his
heart is as thoroughly in his work, and he takes as high a
tone in all that concerns it, as Arnold did in his; that is
to say, the highest the subject is capable of. I only trust
he will remain with us as long as his health lasts, and
endeavor to rouse the army from the state of slack
discipline into which it has fallen. On my parting with him
he said, 'Now, remember, Hodson, if there is any way in
which I can be of use to you, pray don't scruple to write to
me.'"
After working in the Civil Service, chiefly in the Cis-Sutlej
Provinces, for nearly two years, under Mr. Edmonstone, he is promoted
to the command of the Guides on Lumsden's return to England. The wild
frontier district of Euzofzai is handed over to him, where
"I am military as well as civil chief; and the natural taste
of the Euzofzai Pathans for broken heads, murder, and
violence, as well as their litigiousness about their lands,
keeps me very hard at work from day to day."
Here he settles with his newly married wife, "the most fortunate man
in the service; and have I not a right to call myself the happiest
also, with such a wife and such a home?"
For nearly three years he rules this province, building a large fort
for his regiment, fighting all marauders from the hills, training his
men in all ways, even to practising their own sports with them.
"William is very clever" his wife writes "at this," cutting
an orange, placed on a bamboo, in two, at full speed,
"rarely failing. He is grievously overworked; still his
health is wonderfully good, and his spirits as wild as if he
were a boy again. He is never so well pleased as when he has
the baby in his arms."
Yes, the baby,--for now comes in a little episode of home and family,
a gentle and bright gem in the rough setting of the soldier's life;
and the tender and loving father and husband stands before us as
vividly as the daring border-leader.
"You would so delight in her baby tricks," he writes to his
father. "The young lady already begins to show a singularity
of taste--refusing to go to the arms of any native women,
and decidedly preferring the male population, some of whom
are distinguished by her special favor. Her own orderly,
save the mark, never tires of looking at her 'beautiful
white fingers,' nor she of twisting them into his black
beard,--an insult to an Oriental, which he bears with an
equanimity equal to his fondness for her. The cunning
fellows have begun to make use of her too, and when they
want anything, ask the favor in the name of Lilli Baba (they
cannot manage 'Olivia' at all). They know the spell is
potent."
But for the particulars of life in the wilderness, we must refer our
readers to Mrs. Hodson's letters (pp. 197-200). This happiness was not
destined to last. In July, 1854, the child dies.
"The deep agony of this bereavement I have no words to
describe," the father writes. "She had wound her little
being round our hearts to an extent which we neither of us
knew until we awoke from the brief dream of beauty, and
found ourselves childless."
Another trial too is at hand. In the autumn of 1854, Sir H. Lawrence
is removed from the Punjaub, and in October, charges are trumped up
(there is no other word for it, looking to the result) against Hodson,
in both his civil and military capacity. A court of inquiry is
appointed; and _before_ that court has reported, he is suspended from
all civil and military duty.
Into the details of the charges against him we will not enter, lest we
should be tempted into the use of hard words, which his brother has
nobly refrained from. All that need be stated is, that the sting lay
in the alleged confusion of his regimental accounts. The Court of
Inquiry appointed Major Taylor to examine these, and report on them.
This was in January, 1855; in February, 1856, Taylor presented an
elaborate report, wholly exculpating Hodson. Mr. Montgomery, (then
Commissioner for the Punjaub, now Chief Commissioner in Oude,) to whom
it was submitted, calls it the most satisfactory report he ever read,
and most triumphant. This report, however, though made public on the
spot, had not, even in May, 1857, been communicated to the Government
of India; whether suppressed on purpose, or not, there is no evidence.
But when at last fairly brought to their notice by a remonstrance from
the accused, the satisfactory nature of the document may be gathered
from the fact that the answer is, "his remonstrance will be placed on
record for preservation, not for justification, which it is fully
admitted was not required,--no higher testimonials were ever
produced."
It is with the man himself that we are concerned. We have seen him in
action, and in prosperity; how will he face disgrace and disaster?--
"I must endeavor to face the wrong, the grievous, foul
wrong, with a constant and unshaken heart, and to endure
humiliation and disgrace with as much equanimity as I may;
and with the same soldierlike fortitude with which I ought
to face danger, suffering, and death in the path of duty....
Our darling babe was taken from us on the day my public
misfortunes began, and death has robbed us of our father
before their end. The brain-pressure was almost too much for
me.... I strive to look the worst boldly in the face as I
would an enemy in the field, and to do my appointed work
resolutely and to the best of my ability, satisfied that
there is a reason for all; and that even irksome duties well
done bring their own reward, and that if not, still they are
duties....
"It is pleasant to find that not a man who knows me has any
belief that there has been anything wrong.... Not one of
them all (and, indeed, I believe I might include my worst
foes and accusers in the category) believes that I have
committed any more than errors of judgment."
Thus he writes to brother and sister; and, for the rest, goes back
resolutely to his old regiment, and begins again the common routine of
a subaltern's duties, congratulating himself that the colonel wishes
to give him the adjutancy, in which post
"I shall have the opportunity of learning a good deal of
work which will be useful to me, and of doing, I hope, a
good deal of good amongst the men. It will be the first step
up the ladder again, after tumbling to the bottom."
The colonel gets him to take the office of quartermaster, however, not
the adjutancy, the former office "having fallen into great disorder;"
and in January, 1857, the honest old officer, of his own accord,
writes a letter to the Adjutant-General, requesting him to submit to
the Commander-in-Chief "that, his public record and acknowledgment of
the essential service Lieutenant Hodson has done the regiment at his
special request;" and urging on his Excellency to find some worthier
employment for the said lieutenant. In the same tone writes Brigadier
Johnstone, commanding at Umbala, through whom the colonel's letter had
to be forwarded; and who "trusts his Excellency will allow of his
submitting it in a more special and marked manner than by merely
countersigning; for," goes on the General, "Lieutenant Hodson has,
with patience, perseverance, and zeal, undertaken and carried out the
laborious minor duties of the regimental staff, as well as those of a
company; and with a diligence, method, and accuracy, such as the best
trained regimental officers have never surpassed."
We sympathize entirely with the editor, when he bursts out, "I know
nothing in my brother's whole career more truly admirable, or showing
more real heroism, than his conduct at this period, while battling
with adverse fates."
But there was now no need of letters from generals or colonels
(however acceptable such testimonies might be in themselves) to
restore Hodson to his proper position, for the mutterings of the great
eruption are already beginning to be heard, and the ground is heaving
under the feet of the English in India.
"We are in a state of some anxiety, owing to the spread of a
very serious spirit of disaffection among the Sepoy army. It
is our great danger in India, and Lord Hardinge's prophecy,
that our biggest fight in India would be with our own army,
seems not unlikely to be realized, and that before long.
Native papers, education, and progress, are against keeping
200,000 native mercenaries in hand."
This is not the exact time a sane Commander-in-Chief, looking about
for helpful persons, should choose for letting a certain Lieutenant
Hodson, lately under a cloud, but, we hear, a smart officer, and of
great knowledge concerning, and influence with natives, out of our
reach. So thinks General Anson about the 5th of May, 1857, when
Hodson, out of all patience at finding that Taylor's report has never
reached the authorities at Calcutta, applies to him for leave to go to
Calcutta to clear himself. However, by this time the ill-used
lieutenant can afford to joke about his own misfortunes, and writes,--
"There were clearly three courses open to me, 'a la Sir
Robert Peel.'
"1st. Suicide.
"2d. To resign the service in disgust, and join the enemy.
"3d. To make the Governor-General eat his words, and
apologize.
"I chose the last.
"The first was too melodramatic and foreign; the second
would have been a triumph to my foes in the Punjaub;
besides, the enemy might have been beaten!
"I have determined, therefore, on a trip to Calcutta."
Wherefore General Anson has interviews with this outrageous
lieutenant; is "most polite, even cordial," and "while approving of my
idea of going down to Calcutta, and thinking it plucky to undertake a
journey of two thousand five hundred miles in such weather," thinks "I
had better wait till I hear again from him, for he will himself write
to Lord Canning, and try to get justice done me."
In six days from this time India is in a blaze.
With the news of the outbreak come orders to the 1st European
Fusileers to move down to Umbala, on the route to Delhi. They march
the sixty miles in less than two days, but, on their arrival, find an
unsatisfactory state of things:
"Here," writes Hodson, "alarm is the prevalent feeling, and
conciliation, of men with arms in their hands and in a state
of absolute rebellion, the order of the day. This system, if
pursued, is far more dangerous than anything the Sepoys can
do to us. I do trust the authorities will act with vigor,
else there is no knowing where the affair will end. Oh, for
Sir Charles now! The times are critical, but I have no fear
of aught save the alarm and indecision of our rulers."
The Commander-in-Chief arrives, and now, to Hodson's most naive
astonishment, which breaks out in the comicalest way in his letters,
he regains all he has ever lost by one leap.
"_May 17th._--Yesterday, I was sent for by the
Commander-in-Chief, and appointed Assistant
Quartermaster-General on his personal staff, to be under the
immediate orders of his Excellency, and with command to
raise one hundred horse and fifty foot, for service in the
Intelligence Department, and as personal escort. All this
was done, moreover, in a most complimentary way, and it is
quite in my line."
We can see clearly enough, from our own point of view, what has been
at work for a lieutenant lately under a cloud. The plot thickens
apace.
But who, at this juncture, will open the road to Meerut, from the
general in command of which place we want papers and intelligence? The
following extract from the letter of an officer stationed at that
place will, perhaps, explain:--
"When the mutiny broke out, our communications were
completely cut off. One night, on outlying picket at Meerut,
this subject being discussed, I said, 'Hodson is at Umbala,
I know; and I'll bet he will force his way through, and open
communications with the Commander-in-Chief and ourselves.'
At about three that night I heard my advanced sentries
firing. I rode off to see what was the matter, and they told
me that a party of the enemy's cavalry had approached their
post. When day broke, in galloped Hodson. He had left
Kurnal (seventy-six miles off) at nine the night before,
with one led horse and an escort of Sikh cavalry, and, as I
had anticipated, here he was with despatches for Wilson. How
I quizzed him for approaching an armed post at night without
knowing the parole. Hodson rode straight to Wilson, had his
interview, a bath, breakfast, and two hours' sleep, and then
rode back the seventy-six miles, and had to fight his way
for about thirty miles of the distance."
The pace pleased the general, Hodson supposes, for "he ordered me to
raise a corps of Irregular Horse, and appointed me Commandant," but
"still no tidings from the hills," (where his wife is;) "this is a
terrible additional pull upon one's nerves at a time like this, and is
a phase of war I never calculated on."
On the 27th of May the march towards Delhi begins, and Hodson
accompanies, acting as Assistant Quartermaster-General attached to the
Commander-in-Chief, "with free access to him at any time, and to other
people in authority, which gives me power for good. The Intelligence
Department is mine exclusively, and I have for this line Sir Henry's
old friend, the one-eyed Moulvie, Rujub Alee, so I shall get the best
news in the country." He starts, too, happy about his wife from whom
he has heard; the hill stations all safe, and likely to remain so.
General Anson dies of cholera, and General Barnard succeeds; still,
oddly enough, no change takes place in our lieutenant's appointments.
And so the little army marches, all too slowly, as the lieutenant
thinks and remonstrates, upon Delhi. Other men are answering to the
pressure of the times:--
"Colonel T. Seaton and the other officers have gone to
Rohtuck with the 60th Native Infantry, who, I have no doubt,
will desert to a man as soon as they get there. It is very
plucky of him and the other officers to go; and very hard of
the authorities to send them; a half-hearted measure, and
very discreditable, in my opinion, to all concerned;
affording a painful contrast to Sir John Lawrence's bold and
decided conduct in this crisis. This regiment (1st
Fusileers) is a credit to any army, and the fellows are in
as high spirits and heart, and as plucky and free from
croaking as possible, and really do good to the whole force.
"Alfred Light doing his work manfully and well....
Montgomery has come out very, very strong indeed; but many
are beginning to knock up already, and this is but the
beginning of this work, I fear; and before this business
ends, we who are, thank God, still young and strong, shall
alone be left in camp; all the elderly gentlemen will sink
under the fatigue and exposure."
_June 5th._--Head-quarters arrive at Aleepore, nearly at the end of
our march, in fact one may say at the end, for on that day I rode
right up to the Delhi parade-ground to reconnoitre, and the few sowars
whom I met galloped away like mad at the sight of one white face. "Had
I had a hundred Guides with me I would have gone up to the very
walls;" and on June the 8th we occupy our position before Delhi,
having driven the enemy out of their position; not without loss, for
Colonel Chester is killed, Alfred Light (who won the admiration of
all) wounded.... No one else of the staff party killed or wounded;
but our general returns will, I fear, tell a sad tale. I am mercifully
unhurt, and write this line in pencil on the top of a drum to assure
you thereof.
* * * * *
We must break the narrative here for a moment, now that we have got
the combatants face to face, in the place of decision, to submit to
our readers our own conviction that this same siege of Delhi,
beginning on June 9th and ending triumphantly on September 22d, 1857,
is _the_ feat of arms of which England has most cause to be proud.
From Cressy to Sebastopol it has never been equalled. A mere handful
of Englishmen, for half the time numbering less than three thousand,
sat down in the open field, in the worst days of an Indian summer,
without regular communications, (for the daks were only got carried by
bribery, stage by stage,) without proper artillery, and last and worst
of all, without able leading, before and took a city larger than
Glasgow, garrisoned by an army trained by Englishmen, and numbering at
first 20,000, in another ten days 37,000, and at last 75,000 men,
supplied with all but exhaustless munitions of war, and in the midst
of a nation in arms. "I venture to aver," writes Hodson, "that no
other nation in the world would have remained here, or have avoided
defeat, had they attempted to do so." We agree with him; and we do
trust that the nation will come to look at the siege of Delhi in the
right light, and properly to acknowledge and reward the few who remain
of that band of heroes who saved British India.
Our readers must also remember that we are not giving the story of the
siege, but the story of Hodson's part therein, and must therefore not
think we are unduly putting him forward to the depreciation of other
as glorious names. We would that we had the same means of following
the life day by day of Nicholson and Chamberlain, Tombs and Light,
Welchman, Showers, Home, Salkeld, or a hundred others equally gallant.
But what we have is Hodson's life compiled from his daily letters to
his wife. No doubt the work of the regulars was as important, perhaps
even more trying, than that of the Captain of Irregular Cavalry,
Assistant Quartermaster-General, and head of the Intelligence
Department; but these were his duties, and not the others', and we
shall now see how he fulfilled them.
On the first day of the siege "the Guides" march into camp:
"It would have done your heart good to see the welcome they
gave me--cheering and shouting and crowding round me like
frantic creatures. They seized my bridle, dress, hands, and
feet, and literally threw themselves down before the horse
with the tears streaming down their faces. Many officers who
were present hardly knew what to make of it, and thought the
creatures were mobbing me; and so they were--but for joy,
not for mischief."
"Burrah Serai-wallah," they shouted, ("great in battle" in the vulgar
tongue,) making the staff and others open their eyes, who do not much
believe, for their part, in the power of any Englishman really to
attach to himself any native rascals.
Next day, June 10th, the ball opens. The mutineers march out in force
and attack our position:
"I had command of all the troops on our right, the gallant
Guides among the rest. They followed me, with a cheer for
their old commander, and behaved with their usual pluck, and
finally we drove the enemy in with loss.... Indeed, I did
_not_ expose myself unnecessarily; for having to direct the
movements of three or four regiments, I could not be in the
front as much as I wished."
But wives will be anxious, my lieutenant, and making all just
allowances, it must be confessed that you give her fair cause:
"The warmth of the reception again given me by the Guides
was quite affecting, and has produced a great sensation in
camp, and had a good effect on our native troops, insomuch
that they are more willing to obey their European officers
when they see their own countrymen's enthusiasm.
"My position is Assistant Quartermaster-General on the
Commander-in-Chief's personal staff. I am responsible for
the Intelligence Department, and in the field, or when
anything is going on for directing the movements of the
troops in action, under the immediate orders of the
general."
Again, on June 12th, we are at it:--
"A sharp fight for four hours, ending as usual. They have
never yet been so punished as to-day. The Guides behaved
admirably, so did the Fusileers as usual. I am vexed much at
the _Lahore Chronicle butter_, and wish people would leave
me alone in the newspapers. The best butter I get is the
deference and respect I meet with from all whose respect I
care for, and the affectionate enthusiasm of the Guides,
which increases instead of lessening."
But this daily repulsing attacks cannot be allowed to go on: cannot we
have something to say to attacking them? So the general thinks, and
sets Greathed, assisted by me and two more engineers, to submit a plan
for taking Delhi.
"We drew up our scheme and gave it to the general, who
highly approved, and will, I trust, carry it out; but how
times must be changed, when four subalterns are called upon
to suggest a means of carrying out so vitally important an
enterprise as this, one on which the safety of the empire
depends!"
Simple but "perfectly feasible" plan of four subalterns: blow open
gates with powder, and go in with bayonet, and that there may be no
mistake about it, I volunteer to lead the assault (wholly unmindful of
that assurance given to a loving heart in the hills that I am _not_
exposing myself) and fix on a small building in front of the gate as
the rendezvous, which is now called "Hodson's Mosque."
General approves, and orders assault for the morning of June 13th.
Alas for our "perfectly feasible" plan!
"We were to have taken Delhi by assault last night, but a
'mistake of orders' (?) as to the right time of bringing the
troops to the rendezvous prevented its execution. I am much
annoyed and disappointed at our plan not having been carried
out, because I am confident it would have been successful.
The rebels were cowed, and perfectly ignorant of any
intention of so bold a stroke on our part as an assault; the
surprise would have done everything."
Next day there is another fight. A council of war. Our plan is still
approved, but put off from day to day. Abandoned at last, we are to
wait for reinforcements. Poor "feasible plan!"
"It was frustrated the first night by the fears and absolute
disobedience of orders of ----, the man who first lost
Delhi, and has now by folly prevented its being recaptured.
The general has twice since wished and even ordered it, but
has always been thwarted by some one or other; latterly by
that old woman ----, who has come here for nothing
apparently but as an obstacle; ---- is also a crying evil to
us. The general knows this and wants to get rid of him, but
has not the nerve to supersede him. The whole state of
affairs here is bad to a degree."
And here I am (June 19th), with fights going on every day, knocked
down with bronchitis and inflammation of the chest, "really very ill
for some hours." "The general nurses me as if I were his son. I woke
in the night and found the kind old man by my bedside covering me
carefully up from the draught." But on June 20th (bronchitis
notwithstanding) I am up and at work again, for the Sepoys have
attacked our rear to-day, and though beaten as usual, Colonel Becher
(Quartermaster-General) is shot through right arm, and Daly
(commanding Guides) hit through the shoulder. So the whole work of the
Quartermaster-General's office is on me, and the general begs me as a
personal favor to take command of Guides in addition. I at first
refused, but the general was most urgent, putting it on the ground
that the service was at stake, and none was so fit, &c. &c. I do feel
that we are bound to do our best just now to put things on a proper
footing; and after consulting Seaton and Norman, I accepted the
command. How ---- will gnash his teeth to see me leading my dear old
Guides again in the field.
And so we fight on, literally day by day, for now "our artillery
officers themselves say they are outmatched by these rascals in
accuracy and rapidity of fire; and as they have unlimited supplies of
guns, &c., they are quite beyond us in many respects. We are, in point
of fact, reduced to merely holding our own ground till we get more
men." Still we don't feel at all like giving in.
"The wounded generally are doing well, poor fellows,
considering the heat, dirt, and want of any bed but the dry
ground. Their pluck is wonderful, and it is not in the field
alone that you see what an English soldier is made of. One
poor fellow who was smoking his pipe and laughing with the
comrade by his side, was asked, what was the matter with
him, and he answered in a lively voice, 'Oh, not much, Sir,
only a little knock on the back; I shall be up and at the
rascals again in a day or two.' He had been shot in the
spine, and all his lower limbs were paralyzed. He died next
day. Colonel Welchman is about again; too soon, I fear, but
there is no keeping the brave old man quiet. Poor Peter
Brown is very badly wounded, but he is cheerful, and bears
up bravely. Jacob has 'come out' wonderfully. He is cool,
active, and bold, keeps his wits about him under fire, and
does altogether well. We are fortunate in having him with
the force. Good field-officers are very scarce indeed; I do
not wonder at people at a distance bewailing the delay in
the taking of Delhi. No one not on the spot can appreciate
the difficulties in the way, or the painful truth, that
those difficulties increase upon us."
I am rather out of sorts still myself, also. It is a burden to me to
stand or walk, and the excessive heat makes it difficult for me to
recover from that sharp attack of illness. "The doctors urge me to go
away for a little, to get strength--as if I could leave just now, or
as if I would if I could." ... So I am in the saddle all day, (June
24th,) though obliged occasionally to rest a bit where I can find
shelter, and one halt is by Alfred Light.
"It does me good to see the 'Light of the ball-room' working
away at his guns, begrimed with dust and heat, ever cheery
and cool, though dead beat from fatigue and exposure. How
our men fought to-day; liquid fire was no name for the
fervent heat; but nothing less than a knock-down blow from
sun, sword, or bullet, stops a British soldier."
My glorious old regiment! how they have suffered in this short three
weeks; Colonel Welchman badly hit in the arm, Greville down with
fever, Wriford with dysentery, Dennis with sunstroke, Brown with
wounds.
"Jacob and the 'boys' have all the work to themselves, and
well indeed do the boys behave--with a courage and coolness
which would not disgrace veterans. Little Tommy Butler,
Owen, Warner, all behave like heroes, albeit with sadly
diminishing numbers to lead. Neville Chamberlain is come in,
who ought to be worth a thousand men to us."
Those rascals actually came out to-day (June 25th), in their red coats
and medals!
"We are not very well off, _quant a la cuisine_. I never had
so much trouble in getting anything fit to eat, except when
I dine with the general. Colonel Seaton lives in my tent,
and is a great companion; his joyous disposition is a
perpetual rebuke to the croakers."
And so too was your own, my Lieutenant, for we have fortunately a
letter from a distinguished officer, in which he says,--
"Affairs at times looked very queer, from the frightful
expenditure of life. Hodson's face was then like sunshine
breaking through the dark clouds of despondency and gloom
that would settle down occasionally on all but a few brave
hearts, England's worthiest sons, who were determined to
conquer."
But this siege does set one really thinking in earnest about several
things, and this is the conclusion at which our Lieutenant arrives:--
"There is but one rule of action for a soldier in the field,
as for a man at all times, to do that which is best for the
public good; to make that your sole aim, resting assured
that the result will in the end be best for individual
interest also. I am quite indifferent not to see my name
appear in newspaper paragraphs and despatches; only content
if I can perform my duty truly and honestly, and too
thankful to the Almighty if I am daily spared for future
labors or future repose."
But here is another coil this June 27th:--
"There has been an outcry throughout the camp at ----'s
having fled from Bhagput, the bridge which caused me so much
hard riding and hard work to get, some time ago."
He has actually bolted, on a report of mutineers coming, leaving
boats, bridge, and all. By this conduct he has lost our communication
with Meerut, and that too when our reinforcements were actually in
sight. The consequence is that I have to go down to Bhagput to recover
boats, bridge, &c., and reopen communication, which is done at once
and satisfactorily; and by July 2d we are quite comfortable, for I
have set myself up with plates, &c., for one rupee, and Colonel
Seaton's traps and servants will be here to-day ... except that we are
somewhat vexed in our spirits, for
"---- has been shelved and allowed to get sick, to save him
from supersession. I do not like euphuisms. In these days
men and things should be called by their right names, that
we might know how far either should be trusted.
"_July 5th._--General Barnard dies of cholera after a few
hours' illness. Personally I am much grieved, for no kinder
or more considerate or gentlemanly man ever lived. I am so
sorry for his son, a fine brave fellow, whose attention to
his father won the love of us all. It was quite beautiful to
see them together."
And so we plunge on day after day, the rain nearly flooding us out of
camp. Will the ladies in the hills make us some flannel shirts?
"The soldiers bear up like men, but the constant state of
wet is no small addition to what they have to endure from
heat, hard work, and fighting. I know by experience what a
comfort a dry flannel shirt is.
"_July 12th._--Three hundred of my new regiment arrive; very
fine-looking fellows, most of them. I am getting quite a
little army under me, what with the Guides and my own men.
Would to Heaven they would give us something more to do than
this desultory warfare, which destroys our best men, and
brings us no whit nearer Delhi, and removes the end of the
campaign to an indefinite period."
Another fight this 14th July, one of the sharpest we have yet had, and
we who have to lead were obliged to expose ourselves, but really not
more than we could help; and how the papers can have got hold of this
wound story I can't think, for I didn't tell it even to you. The facts
are thus:--
"A rascally Pandy made a thrust at my horse, which I
parried, when he seized his 'tulwar' in both hands, bringing
it down like a sledge-hammer; it caught on the iron of my
antigropelos legging, which it broke into the skin, cut
through the stirrup-leather, and took a slice off my boot
and stocking; and yet, wonderful to say, the sword did not
penetrate the skin. Both my horse and myself were staggered
by the force of the blow, but I recovered myself quickly,
and I don't think that Pandy will ever raise his 'tulwar'
again."
But, to show you that I did no more than was necessary, I must tell
you what Chamberlain had to do, who led in another part.
"Seeing a hesitation among the troops he led, who did not
like the look of a wall lined with Pandies, and stopped
short, instead of going up to it, he leaped his horse clean
over the wall into the midst of them, and dared the men to
follow, which they did, but he got a ball in the shoulder."
I must positively give up the Quartermaster-General's work;
head-quarters' staff seems breaking down altogether. General Reed goes
to the hills to-night; Congreve and Curzon have been sent off, too;
Chamberlain and Becher on their backs with wounds.
"Colonel Young, Norman, and myself, are therefore the only
representatives of the head-quarters' staff, except the
doctors and commissaries. I am wonderfully well, thank God!
and able to get through as much work as any man; but
commanding two regiments, and being eyes and ears to the
whole army, too, is really too much."
Again, to-day (July 19) a sharp fight; Pandies in great force--driven
pellmell up to the walls; but how about getting back.
"We were commanded by a fine old gentleman, who might sit
for a portrait of Falstaff, so fat and jolly is he, Colonel
Jones, of 60th Rifles."
Jolly old Briton, with the clearest possible notion of going on, but
as for retiring, little enough idea of that sort of work in Colonel
Jones.
"The instant we began to draw off, they followed us, their
immense numbers giving them a great power of annoyance at
very slight cost to themselves. The brave old colonel was
going to retire 'all of a heap,' infantry, guns, and all in
a helpless mass, and we should have suffered cruel loss in
those narrow roads, with walls and buildings on both sides.
I rode up to him and pointed this out, and in reply received
_carte blanche_ to act as I saw best. This was soon done,
with the assistance of Henry Vicars (Adjutant 61st) and
Coghill (Adjutant 2d Bengal European Fusileers), both cool
soldiers under fire, though so young, and we got off in good
order and with trifling loss, drawing the men back slowly,
and in regular order, covered by Dixon's and Money's guns."
This colonel, too, with no notion of retreating, is a candid man; goes
straight to the general on his return, and begs to thank our
Lieutenant, and to say he hopes for no better aid whenever he has to
lead; unlike some persons under whom we have served.
"The general has begged me to give up the Guides, and not
the quartermaster-general's office. You, at least, will
rejoice that it greatly diminishes the risk to life and
limb, which, I confess, lately has been excessive in my
case."
News of Wheeler's surrender--of the massacre four days later (July
26), and our blood is running fire. "There will be a day of reckoning
for these things, and a fierce one, or I have been a soldier in vain."
Another fight on the 24th, and Seaton down with chest-wound, but doing
well; "he is patient and gentle in suffering as a woman, and this
helps his recovery wonderfully." ... Thanks for the flannel
waistcoats; but as for you and Mrs. ---- coming to camp as nurses, no.
"Unless any unforeseen emergency should arise, I would
strongly dissuade any lady from coming to camp. They would
all very speedily become patients in the very hospitals
which they came to serve, and would so willingly support.
The flannel garments are invaluable, and this is all that
can be done for us by female hands at present.... You say
there is a great difference between doing one's duty and
running unnecessary risks, and you say truly; the only
question, what is one's duty. Now, I might, as I have more
than once, see things going wrong at a time and place when I
might be merely a spectator, and not 'on duty,' or ordered
to be there, and I might feel that by exposing myself to
danger for a time I might rectify matters, and I might
therefore think it right to incur that danger; and yet, if I
were to get hit, it would be said 'he had no business
there;' nor should I, as far as the rules of the service go,
though, in my own mind, I should have been satisfied that I
was right. These are times when every man should do his
best, his utmost, and not say, 'No; though I see I can do
good there, yet, as I have not been ordered and am not on
duty, I will not do it.' This is not my idea of a soldier's
duty, and hitherto the results have proved me right."
_August 3d._--Rumor that Sir Henry is dead at Lucknow. The news has
quite unnerved me. 5th.--Nana Sahib, the murderer (you remember the
man at the artillery review, a "swell" looking native gentleman, who
spoke French, and was talking a good deal to Alfred Light), has been
beaten by Havelock, they say has drowned himself.
"I hope it is not true; for it is one of my aims to have the
catching of the said Nana myself. The hanging him would be a
positive pleasure to me.... Nicholson has come on ahead of
our reinforcements from the Punjaub; a host in himself, if
he does not go and get knocked over as Chamberlain did.
"General Wilson has been down for some days, but is now
better, but nervous and over-anxious about trifles.... These
men are, personally, as brave as lions, but they have not
big hearts or heads enough for circumstances of serious
responsibility....
"_August 11th._--Talking of jealousies, one day, under a
heavy fire, Captain ---- came up to me, and begged me to
forget and forgive what had passed, and only to remember
that we were soldiers fighting together in a common cause.
As I was the injured party, I could afford to do this. The
time and place, as well as his manner, appealed to my better
feelings, so I held out my hand at once. Nowadays, we must
stand by and help each other, forget all injuries, and rise
superior to them, or God help us! we should be in terrible
plight."
_August 12th_.--A brilliant affair under Showers; four guns taken.
Brave young Owen wounded, "riding astride one gun, and a soldier with
musket and fixed bayonet riding each horse, the rest cheering like mad
things. I was in the thick of it, _by accident_."
By this time, Pandy, having been beaten severely in twenty-three
fights, has had nearly enough of it, and is very chary of doing more
than firing long shots, so there is no longer so much need of our
Lieutenant in camp. He may surely be useful in clearing the
neighborhood and restoring British rule and order; so we find him
starting for Rohtuck, on 17th August, with three hundred men and five
officers,--all his own men, and first-rate,--and Macdowell, two
Goughs, Ward, and Wise. On the 18th the inhabitants send supplies and
fair words, but there is a body of a thousand infantry and three
hundred horse close by, who must be handled. Accordingly, they are
drawn into the open by a feigned retreat, and come on firing and
yelling in crowds.
"Threes about and at them;" five parties, each headed by an officer,
are upon them. "Never was such a scatter; they fled as if not the
Guides and Hodson's Horse, but death and the devil, were at their
heels." Only eight of my men touched. This will encourage my new
hands, utterly untrained.
Another skirmish, and now--
"In three days we have frightened away and demoralized a
force of artillery, cavalry, and infantry, some two thousand
strong, beat those who stood or returned to fight us, twice,
in spite of numbers, and got fed and furnished forth by the
rascally town itself. Moreover, we have thoroughly cowed the
whole neighborhood, and given them a taste of what more they
will get unless they keep quiet in future.... This is a
terribly egotistical detail, and I am thoroughly ashamed of
saying so much of myself; but you insisted on having a full,
true, and particular account, so do not think me
vainglorious."
Next come orders, but sadly indefinite ones, to look out for and
destroy the 10th Light Cavalry, who are out in the Jheend district:--
"He must either say distinctly 'do this or that,' and I will
do it; or he must give me _carte blanche_ to do what he
wants in the most practicable way, of which I, knowing the
country, can best judge. I am not going to fag my men and
horses to death, and then be told I have exceeded my
instructions. He gives me immense credit for what I have
done, but 'almost wishes I had not ventured so far.' The old
gentleman means well, but does not understand either the
country or the position I was in, nor does he appreciate a
tenth part of the effects which our bold stroke at Rohtuck,
forty-five miles from camp, has produced. '_N'importe_,'
they will find it out sooner or later. I hear both
Chamberlain and Nicholson took my view of the case, and
supported me warmly.... I foresee that I shall remain a
subaltern, and the easy-going majors of brigade,
aides-de-camp, and staff-officers will all get brevets."
Too true, my Lieutenant.
"The Victoria Cross, I confess, is the highest object of my
ambition, and had I been one of Fortune's favorites, I
should have had it ere now."
True again.
"But, whether a lieutenant or lieutenant-general, I trust I
shall continue to do my duty to the best of my judgment and
ability, as long as strength and sense are vouchsafed to
me."
We trust, and are on the whole by this time prepared to hazard a
prophecy, that you will so continue, whether lieutenant or general.
_August 26th._--A glorious victory at Nujjufghur, by Nicholson. I was
not there. Ill in camp; worse luck.... Scouring the country again till
August 30th, when I have to receive an emissary from Delhi to treat.
Sir Colin Campbell is, they say, at Calcutta, and Mansfield, as chief
of the staff; so now we may get some leading.
We are in Delhi at last (September 15th), but with grievous loss. My
dear old regiment (1st Fusileers) suffered out of all proportion.
"Of the officers engaged only Wriford, Wallace, and I are
untouched. My preservation (I don't like the word _escape_)
was miraculous." ...
Nicholson dangerously hit; ten out of seventeen engineer officers
killed or wounded.
... "'You may count our real officers on your fingers now.'
"_Sept. 16th._--I grieve much for poor Jacob; we buried him
and three sergeants of the regiment, last night; he was a
noble soldier. His death has made me captain, the long
wished-for goal; but I would rather have served on as a
subaltern than gained promotion thus.
"_Sept. 19th._--We are making slow progress in the city.
The fact is, the troops are utterly demoralized by hard work
and hard drink, I grieve to say. For the first time in my
life, I have had to see English soldiers refuse, repeatedly,
to follow their officers. Greville, Jacob, Nicholson, and
Speke were all sacrificed to this.
"_Sept. 22d._--In the Royal Palace, Delhi.--I was quite
unable to write yesterday, having had a hard day's work. I
was fortunate enough to capture the King and his favorite
wife. To-day, more fortunate still, I have seized and
destroyed the King's two sons and a grandson (the famous, or
rather infamous, Abu Bukt), the villains who ordered the
massacre of our women and children, and stood by and
witnessed the foul barbarity; their bodies are now lying on
the spot where those of the unfortunate ladies were exposed.
I am very tired, but very much satisfied with my day's work,
and so seem all hands."
This is Hodson's account of the two most remarkable exploits in even
his career. We have no space to give his own full narrative, which he
writes later, upon being pressed to do so; or the graphic account of
Macdowell, his lieutenant, which will be found in the book, and it
would be literary murder to mutilate such gems. As to defending the
shooting of the two princes, let those do it who feel that a defence
is needed, for we believe that no Englishman, worth convincing, now
doubts as to the righteousness and policy of the act, and probably the
old Radical general-officer and M. P., who thought it his duty to call
Hodson hard names at the time, has reconsidered his opinion. Whether
he has or not, however, matters little. He who did the deed, and is
gone, cared not for hasty or false tongues,--why should we?
"Strange," he says, "that some of those who are loudest
against me for sparing the King, are also crying out at my
destroying his sons. 'Quousque tandem?' I may well exclaim.
But, in point of fact, I am quite indifferent to clamor
either way. I made up my mind, at the time, to be abused. I
was convinced I was right, and when I prepared to run the
great physical risk of the attempt, I was equally game for
the moral risk of praise or blame. These have not been, and
are not times when a man who would serve his country dare
hesitate, as to the personal consequences to himself, of
what he thinks his duty."
"By Jove, Hodson, they ought to make you Commander-in-Chief for this,"
shouts the enthusiast to whom the prisoners were handed over. "Well,
I'm glad you have got him, but I never expected to see either him or
you again," says the Commander-in-Chief, and sits down and writes the
following despatch:--
"The King, who accompanied the troops for some short
distance last night, gave himself up to a party of Irregular
Cavalry, whom I sent out in the direction of the fugitives,
and he is now a prisoner under a guard of European
soldiers."
Delhi is ours; but at what a cost in officers and men! and Nicholson
is dead.
"With the single exception of my ever revered friend, Sir
Henry Lawrence, and Colonel Mackeson, I have never met his
equal in field or council; he was preeminently our best and
bravest, and his loss is not to be atoned for in these days.
"The troops have behaved with singular moderation towards
women and children, considering their provocation. I do not
believe, and I have some means of knowing, that a single
woman or child has been purposely injured by our troops, and
the story on which your righteous indignation is grounded is
quite false; the troops have been demoralized by drink, but
nothing more."
In November he gets a few weeks' leave, and is off to Umbala to meet
his wife for the last time, safe after all, and no longer a lieutenant
under a cloud. What a meeting must that have been.
With the taking of Delhi our narrative, already too long, must close,
though a grand five months of heroic action still remained. Nothing in
the book exceeds in interest the ride of ninety-four miles from
Seaton's column, with young Macdowell, to carry a despatch to Sir
Colin, on December 30th. The tale of the early morning summons, the
rumors of enemies on the road, the suspense as to the Chief's
whereabouts, the leaving all escort behind, their flattering and
cordial reception by Sir Colin, (who gets them "chops and ale in a
quiet friendly way,") the fifty-four miles' ride home, the midnight
alarm and escape, and the safe run in, take away our breath. And the
finish is inimitable.
"All Hodson said," writes Macdowell, "when we were at Bewar,
and safe, was 'By George! Mac, I'd give a good deal for a
cup of tea,' and immediately went to sleep. He is the
coolest hand I have ever yet met. We rode ninety-four miles.
Hodson rode seventy-two on one horse, the little dun, and I
rode Alma seventy-two miles also."
One more anecdote, however, we cannot resist. On the 6th of January,
1858, Seaton's column joins the Commander-in-Chief; on the 27th, at
Shumshabad, poor young Macdowell (whose letters make one love him) is
killed, and Hodson badly wounded. They were in advance, as usual, with
guns, and had to charge a superior body of cavalry:--
"But there was nothing for it but fighting, as, had we not
attacked them, they would have got in amongst our guns. We
were only three officers, and about one hundred and eighty
horsemen,--my poor friend and second in command, Macdowell,
having received a mortal wound a few minutes before we
charged. It was a terrible _melee_ for some time, and we
were most wonderfully preserved. However, we gave them a
very proper thrashing, and killed their leaders. Two out of
the three of us were wounded, and five of my men killed and
eleven wounded, besides eleven horses. My horse had three
sabre-cuts, and I got two, which I consider a rather unfair
share. The Commander-in-Chief is very well satisfied, I
hear, with the day's work, and is profusely civil and kind
to me."
In another letter he writes:--
"They were very superior in number, and individually so as
horsemen and swordsmen, but we managed to 'whop' them all
the same, and drive them clean off the field; not, however,
until they had made two very pretty dashes at us, which cost
us some trouble and very hard fighting. It was the hardest
thing of the kind in which I ever was engaged in point of
regular '_in_ fighting,' as they say in the P. R.; only
_Bell's Life_ could describe it properly. I got a cut,
which laid my thumb open, from a fellow after my sword was
through him, and about half an hour later this caused me to
get a second severe cut, which divided the muscles of the
right arm, and put me _hors de combat_; for my grip on the
sword-handle was weakened, and a demon on foot succeeded in
striking down my guard, or rather his tulwar glanced off my
guard on to my arm. My horse, also, got three cuts. I have
got well most rapidly, despite an attack of erysipelas,
which looked very nasty for three days, and some slight
fever; and I have every reason to be thankful."
He is able, notwithstanding wounds, to accompany the forces, Colonel
Burn kindly driving him in his dog-cart. Nothing could exceed Sir
Colin's kind attentions. Here is a chief, at last, who can appreciate
a certain captain, late lieutenant under a cloud. The old chief drinks
his health as colonel, and, on Hodson's doubting, says:--
"_I_ will see that it is all arranged; just make a
memorandum of your services during the Punjaub war, and I
venture to prophesy that it will not be long before I shake
hands with you as Lieutenant-Colonel Hodson, C.B., with a
Victoria Cross to boot."
By the end of February he is well, and in command of his regiment
again, and in his last fight saves the life of his adjutant, Lieut.
Gough, by cutting down a rebel trooper in the very act of spearing
him.
And now comes the end. For a week the siege had gone on, and work
after work of the enemy had fallen. On the 11th of March the Begum's
Palace was to be assaulted. Hodson had orders to move his regiment
nearer to the walls, and while choosing a spot for his camp heard
firing, rode on, and found his friend Brigadier Napier directing the
assault. He joined him, saying, "I am come to take care of you; you
have no business to go to work without me to look after you." They
entered the breach together, were separated in the _melee_, and in a
few minutes Hodson was shot through the chest. The next morning the
wound was declared to be mortal, and he sent for Napier to give his
last instructions.
"He lay on his bed of mortal agony," says this friend, "and
met death with the same calm composure which so much
distinguished him on the field of battle. He was quite
conscious and peaceful, occasionally uttering a sentence,
'My poor wife,' 'My poor sisters.' 'I should have liked to
have seen the end of the campaign and gone home to the dear
ones once more, but it was so ordered.' 'It is hard to leave
the world just now, when success is so near, but God's will
be done.' 'Bear witness for me that I have tried to do my
duty to man. May God forgive my sins, for Christ's sake.' 'I
go to my Father.' 'My love to my wife,--tell her my last
thoughts were of her.' 'Lord receive my soul.' These were
his last words, and without a sigh or struggle his pure and
noble spirit took its flight."
"It was so ordered." They were his own words; and now that the first
anguish of his loss is over, will not even those nearest and dearest
to him acknowledge "it was ordered for the best?" For is there not
something painful to us in calculating the petty rewards which we can
bestow upon a man who has done any work of deliverance for his
country? Do we not almost dread--eagerly as we may desire his
return--to hear the vulgar, formal phrases which are all we can devise
to commemorate the toils and sufferings that we think of with most
gratitude and affection? There is somewhat calming and soothing in the
sadness which follows a brave man to his grave in the very place where
his work was done, just when it was done. Alas, but it is a bitter
lesson to learn, even to us his old schoolfellows, who have never seen
him since we parted at his "leaving breakfast." May God make us all
braver and truer workers at our own small tasks, and worthy to join
him, the hard fighter, the glorious Christian soldier and Englishman,
when our time shall come.
On the next day, March 13th, he was carried to a soldier's grave, in
the presence of the head-quarters, staff, and of Sir Colin, his last
chief, who writes thus to his widow:--
"I followed your noble husband to the grave myself, in order
to mark, in the most public manner, my regret and esteem for
the most brilliant soldier under my command, and one whom I
was proud to call my friend."
What living Englishman can add one iota to such praise from such lips?
The man of whom the greatest of English soldiers could thus speak,
needs no mark of official approbation, though it is a burning disgrace
to the authorities that none such has been given. But the family
which mourns its noblest son may be content with the rewards which his
gallant life and glorious death have won for him and them,--we believe
that he himself would desire no others. For his brothers-in-arms are
erecting a monument to him in Lichfield Cathedral; his schoolfellows
are putting up a window to him, and the other Rugbaeans who have fallen
with him, in Rugby Chapel; and the three regiments of Hodson's Horse
will hand down his name on the scene of his work and of his death as
long as Englishmen bear rule in India. And long after that rule has
ceased, while England can honor brave deeds and be grateful to brave
men, the heroes of the Indian mutiny will never be forgotten, and the
hearts of our children's children will leap up at the names of
Lawrence, Havelock, and Hodson.
To the Memory
OF
SIR HENRY LAWRENCE, K. C. B.
THE TRUE CHRISTIAN, THE BRAVE SOLDIER,
THE FAITHFUL FRIEND,
THESE EXTRACTS FROM THE LETTERS OF
ONE WHOM HE TRAINED
TO FOLLOW IN HIS FOOTSTEPS, AND WHO NOW
RESTS NEAR HIM AT LUCKNOW,
Are Dedicated
BY THE EDITOR.
They were lovely and pleasant in their lives,
And in their deaths they were not divided.
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.
I have now been able to complete the series of extracts from my
brother's letters, down to the morning of the fatal 11th March. The
greater portion of the Fourth Chapter of Part II. will be found to
have been added since the first edition.
I have to apologize for an inaccuracy in the quotation which I gave
from Sir Colin Campbell's letter on the occasion of my brother's
death. A correct copy of the letter in full will be found at page 431.
I have not found it necessary to make any other corrections of
importance. Cases have been pointed out to me, in which officers who
took part in different operations described, and did good service, are
not mentioned by name; but I felt that I could not supply any such
omissions, without taking upon myself a responsibility which I have
disclaimed.
It was very natural that my brother, in writing to his wife, should
make especial mention of those in whom she was interested. It is
probable, too, that in some cases, subsequent information would have
modified views expressed at the moment, but I have adhered to the
principle of giving his letters as they were written day by day.
The favorable reception given to the former editions of this work, has
quite satisfied me that I was not wrong in supposing that my brother's
character only required to be known, in order to be estimated as it
deserved, by Englishmen of every class and profession.
COOKHAM DEANE, _July, 1859_.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
It can scarcely be needful to make any apology for offering to the
public this record of one who has attracted to himself so large a
measure of attention and admiration. Many, both in this country and in
India, have expressed, and I doubt not many others have felt, a desire
to know more of the commander of Hodson's Horse, and captor of the
King of Delhi and his sons.
My original intention was to have compiled from my brother's letters
merely an account of the part he bore in the late unhappy war. I very
soon, however, determined to extend the work, so as to embrace the
whole of his life in India.
I felt that the public would naturally inquire by what previous
process of training he had acquired, not merely his consummate skill
in the great game of war, but his experience of Asiatics and
marvellous influence over their minds.
The earlier portions of this book will serve to answer such inquiries;
they will show the gradual development of my brother's character and
powers, and that those exploits which astonished the world by their
skill and daring, were but the natural results of the high idea of the
soldier's profession which he proposed to himself, honestly and
consistently worked out during ten years of training, in perhaps the
finest school that ever existed for soldiers and administrators. They
will explain how it was that, in the midst of a struggle for the very
existence of our empire, he was able to call into being and bring into
the field around Delhi an "invincible and all but ubiquitous" body of
cavalry.
The dragon's teeth which came up armed men, had been sown by him long
before in his earlier career in the Punjaub. There, by many a deed of
daring and activity, by many a successful stratagem and midnight
surprise, by many a desperate contest, he had taught the Sikhs, first
to dread him as an enemy, and then to idolize him as a leader. Already
in 1849 the Governor-General had had "frequent occasions of noticing
not only his personal gallantry, but the activity, energy, and
intelligence with which he discharged whatever duties were intrusted
to him." Even then the name of Hodson, although unknown in England,
except to the few who watched his course with the eyes of affection,
was a sound of terror to the Sikhs, and a bugbear to their children.
In 1852 he earned this high praise from one best qualified to judge:
"Lieutenant Hodson, marvellously attaching the Guides to himself by
the ties of mutual honor, mutual daring, and mutual devotion, has on
every opportunity proved that the discipline of a public school and
subsequent University training are no disqualification for hazardous
warfare, or for the difficult task of keeping wild tribes in check."
The title given to this book will sufficiently indicate the principle
on which, particularly in the first part, I have made selections from
my brother's letters. My object has been to show what a soldier's life
in India may be, and what in his case it was; how wide and varied is
the field which it opens for the exercise of the highest and noblest
qualities, intellectual and moral, of our nature; and how
magnificently he realized and grasped the conception.
His letters, written in all the freedom of unreserved intercourse,
will give a truer notion of his character than the most labored
description; they exhibit the undercurrent of deep feelings that ran
through even his most playful moods, the yearning after home that
mingled with the dreams of ambition and the thirst for the excitement
of war, the almost womanly tenderness that coexisted with the stern
determination of the soldier. They show that though his lot was cast
in camps, he was not a mere soldier; though a hanger-on on the
outskirts of civilization amidst wild tribes, he had a keen
appreciation of the refinement and elegancies of civilized life; that
though in India, he remembered that he was an Englishman; that though
living amongst the heathen, he did not forget that he was a
Christian.
I have not attempted to write a biography, but have allowed my brother
to speak for himself, merely supplying such connecting links as seemed
absolutely necessary.
Indeed, I could do no otherwise; for unhappily, during the twelve
years of his soldier's life,--those years in which his character
received its mature development,--I knew him only by his letters, or
by the reports of others; when we parted on board the ship that
carried him from England, in 1845, we parted to meet no more in this
world. My recollections of him, vivid as they are, are not of the
leader of men in council and the battle-field, but of the bright and
joyous boy, the life of the home circle, the tender and affectionate
son, the loving brother, the valued friend, the popular companion.
Of what he became afterwards my readers will have the same means of
judging as myself. He seems to me to have been one of whom not only
his family, but his country may well be proud,--a worthy
representative of the English name and nation amongst the tribes of
India, an impersonation of manly straightforwardness, and unhesitating
daring, and irresistible power.
I cannot doubt but that the verdict of his countrymen will confirm my
judgment.
Many too, I believe, will agree with me in thinking that these pages
prove that the poetry and romance of war are not yet extinct, that
even the Enfield rifle has not reduced all men to a dead level, but
that there is still a place to be found for individual prowess, for
the lion heart, and the eagle eye, and the iron will. One seems
transported back from the prosaic nineteenth century to the ages of
romance and chivalry, and to catch a glimpse, now of a Paladin of old,
now of a knightly hero _sans peur et sans reproche_; now, of a
northern chieftain, "riding on border foray," now of a captain of
free-lances; yet all dissolving into a Christian soldier of our own
day.
Most striking of all, it has appeared to me, is the resemblance to the
romantic career of that hero of the Spanish ballads, who, by his many
deeds of heroic daring, gained for himself the distinguished title of
"El de las Hazanas,"--"He of the exploits." Those who are acquainted
with the chronicles of the Conquest of Granada, will almost fancy in
reading these pages that they are hearing again the story of Fernando
Perez del Pulgar; how at one time by a bold dash he rode with a
handful of followers across a country swarming with the enemy, and
managed to force his way into a beleaguered fortress; how at another
he galloped alone up the streets of Granada, then in possession of the
enemy, to the gates of the principal mosque, and nailed a paper to the
door with his dagger; how again he turned the tide of battle by the
mere charm of his eagle eye and thrilling voice, inspiring the most
timid with a courage equal to his own; how he made the enemy lay down
their arms at his word of command; how the Moorish mothers frightened
their children with the sound of his name; how he was not only the
harebrained adventurer, delighting in peril and thirsting for the
excitement of the fight, but also the courteous gentleman, the
accomplished scholar; as profound and sagacious in the council as he
was reckless in the field, and frequently selected by the wily
Ferdinand to conduct affairs requiring the greatest prudence and
judgment.[1]
It may be, however, that affection has biassed my judgment, and that I
shall be thought to have formed an exaggerated estimate of the
grandeur and nobleness of the subject of this memoir. Even if this be
so, I shall not take much to heart the charge of having loved such a
brother too well, and I shall console myself with the thought that I
have endeavored to do something to perpetuate his memory.
If, however, any young soldier be induced, by reading these pages, to
take a higher view of his profession, to think of it as one of the
noblest fields in which he can serve his God and his country, and
enter on it in a spirit of self-sacrifice, with "duty" as his guiding
principle, and a determination never to forget that he is a Christian
soldier and an Englishman, I shall be abundantly rewarded; my main
object will be attained.
COOKHAM DEANE, _December, 1858_.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] See Washington Irving, &c.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PART I.
CHAPTER I.
EARLY LIFE--RUGBY--TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE--GUERNSEY
MILITIA pp. 57-61
CHAPTER II.
ARRIVAL IN INDIA--CAMPAIGN ON THE SUTLEJ, BATTLES OF
MOODKEE, FEROZESHAH, SOBRAON--OCCUPATION OF
LAHORE--1845-6 62-81
CHAPTER III.
FIRST BENGAL EUROPEAN FUSILEERS--CASHMERE WITH SIKH
ARMY--LAWRENCE ASYLUM--APPOINTMENT TO GUIDE
CORPS--_June, 1846-Oct. 1847_ 82-102
CHAPTER IV.
EMPLOYMENT IN THE PUNJAUB AS SECOND IN COMMAND OF THE
CORPS OF GUIDES, AND ALSO AS ASSISTANT TO THE RESIDENT
AT LAHORE--ROAD-MAKING AND SURVEYING--CAMPAIGN OF
1848-9--CAPTURE OF FORTS--BATTLE OF GUJERAT--ANNEXATION
OF PUNJAUB--_Oct. 1847-March, 1849_ 103-141
CHAPTER V.
ANNEXATION OF PUNJAUB--INCREASE OF CORPS OF GUIDES AT
PESHAWUR--TRANSFER TO CIVIL DEPARTMENT AS ASSISTANT
COMMISSIONER--_April, 1849-April, 1850_ 142-156
CHAPTER VI.
TOUR IN CASHMERE AND THIBET WITH SIR HENRY LAWRENCE
--TRANSFER TO CIS-SUTLEJ PROVINCES--_June, 1850-Oct.
1851_ 157-177
CHAPTER VII.
MARRIAGE--COMMAND OF THE GUIDES--PESHAWUR--EUZOFZAI
--FRONTIER WARFARE--MURDAN--_Jan. 1852-Nov. 1854_ 178-204
CHAPTER VIII.
REVERSES--UNJUST TREATMENT--OFFICIAL ENMITY--LOSS OF
COMMAND--SUPPRESSION OF REPORT--RETURN TO REGIMENTAL
DUTIES--BETTER PROSPECTS--MAJOR TAYLOR'S
REPORT--TESTIMONY OF SIR R. NAPIER--MR.
MONTGOMERY--_Nov. 1854-May, 1857_ 205-226
PART II.
NARRATIVE OF THE DELHI CAMPAIGN, 1857, 1858.
CHAPTER I.
OUTBREAK OF REBELLION--MARCH DOWN TO DELHI FROM DUGSHAI
WITH FIRST EUROPEAN BENGAL FUSILEERS--APPOINTMENT TO
INTELLIGENCE DEPARTMENT--RIDE FROM KURNAL TO MEERUT TO
OPEN COMMUNICATION--ORDER TO RAISE REGIMENT--DEATH OF
GENERAL ANSON--_May 10th-June 8th_ pp. 227-245
CHAPTER II.
SIEGE OF DELHI--_June-August_ 246-306
CHAPTER III.
SIEGE OF DELHI, CONTINUED--ROHTUCK EXPEDITION--ASSAULT
--DELHI TAKEN--CAPTURE OF KING--CAPTURE AND EXECUTION
OF SHAHZADAHS--_August 17th-Sept. 25th_ 307-359
CHAPTER IV.
OPERATIONS IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF DELHI--SHOWERS'S
COLUMN--SEATON'S COLUMN--ACTIONS AT GUNGEREE, PUTIALEE,
MYNPOOREE--RIDE TO COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF'S CAMP--JUNCTION
OF FORCES--SHUMSHABAD--_Oct.-Jan._ 360-418
CHAPTER V.
ALUMBAGH, LUCKNOW--THE BEGUM'S PALACE--BANKS'S
HOUSE--THE SOLDIER'S DEATH--NOTICES--CONCLUDING
REMARKS--_Feb.-March 12th_ 419-444
TWELVE YEARS OF A SOLDIER'S LIFE IN INDIA.
PART I.
CHAPTER I.
EARLY LIFE.--RUGBY.--CAMBRIDGE.--GUERNSEY.
William Stephen Raikes Hodson, third son of Rev. George Hodson,
afterwards Archdeacon of Stafford and Canon of Lichfield, was born at
Maisemore Court, near Gloucester, on 19th March, 1821.
As a boy, his affectionate disposition and bright and joyous character
endeared him greatly to his family, and made him a general favorite
with all around him, old and young, rich and poor. That which
characterized him most was his quickness of observation and his
interest in everything going on about him. By living with his eyes and
ears open, and never suffering anything to escape his notice, he
acquired a stock of practical knowledge which he turned to good
account in his after-life. With the exception of a short time spent
with a private tutor, the Rev. E. Harland, he was educated at home
till he went to Rugby, in his fifteenth year. Home life, however, had
not prevented him from growing up an active, high-spirited boy, full
of life and energy.
His feats of activity at Rugby still live in the remembrance of his
contemporaries and the traditions of the school. The following is an
extract from a paper in the _Book of Rugby School_, published in
1856:--
Who does not remember the fair-haired, light-complexioned
active man whose running feats, whether in the open fields
or on the gravel walks of the Close, created such marvel
among his contemporaries. He has carried his hare and hounds
into his country's service, and as commandant of the gallant
corps of Guides, has displayed an activity and courage on
the wild frontier of the Punjaub, the natural development of
his early prowess at Crick and Brownsover.
A very similar notice appeared in a periodical during the recent
campaign:--
The Rugboeans have had their Crick run. Six miles over heavy
country, there and back, to the school gates by the road, is
no mean distance to be done in one hour twenty-nine minutes.
There was a day when the gallant leader of _Hodson's Horse_
always led in this run. We think we see "larky Pritchard,"
as he was familiarly designated, in his blue cloth jacket,
white trousers, his well-known belt, and his "golden hair,"
going in front with his nice easy stride, (for he never had
any very great pace, though he could last forever,) and
getting back coolly and comfortably to "Bons" when the rear
hounds were toiling a mile behind. There never was such a
boy to run over, after second lesson, to Dunchurch to see
the North Warwickshire, or to give himself a "pipe-opener"
to Lutterworth and back between callings over, till the
doctor vowed he would injure his heart. How true it is that
men who have distinguished themselves most in school sports
come out the best at last.
It was not, however, only in active sports that he showed ability. As
head of a house, during the later portion of his Rugby life, he gave
equal indications of "administrative capacity."
His tutor, (the present Bishop of Calcutta,) speaking of his having
been transferred to his house, in which there were then no praepostors,
"because, from his energetic character and natural ability, he seemed
to Dr. Arnold likely to give me efficient help," continues: "He gave
abundant proof that Arnold's choice had been a wise one. Though he
immediately reestablished the shattered prestige of praepositorial
power, he contrived to make himself very popular with various classes
of boys. The younger ones found in him an efficient protector against
bullying. Those of a more literary turn found in him an agreeable and
intelligent companion, and were fond of being admitted to sit in his
study and talk on matters of intellectual interest. The democrats had
got their master, and submitted with a good grace to power which they
could not resist, and which was judiciously and moderately exercised.
The _regime_ was wise, firm, and kind, and the house was happy and
prosperous.
"From all that I knew of him, both at Rugby and afterwards, I was not
surprised at the courage and coolness which the _Times_ compared 'to
the spirit of a Paladin of old.' I cannot say how much I regret that I
shall not be welcomed in India by the first head of my dear old house
at Rugby."
From Rugby my brother went, in October, 1840, to Trinity College,
Cambridge. Here, as might have been expected from his previous habits,
he took an active interest in boating and other athletic amusements,
while at the same time he by no means neglected the more serious and
intellectual pursuits of the University. He had a very considerable
acquaintance with, and taste for, both classical and general
literature, but a constitutional tendency to headache very much stood
in the way of any close application to books; and, after he had taken
his degree in 1844, was one strong reason for his deciding on an
active rather than a studious life. The Indian army seemed to offer
the best opening, but while waiting for a cadetship, in order to
prevent superannuation he obtained, through the kind introduction of
Lord de Saumarez, a commission in the Guernsey Militia from
Major-General W. Napier, the Lieutenant-Governor, and there commenced
his military life. From the first he felt that the profession of a
soldier was one that required to be studied, and took every
opportunity of mastering its principles.
On his leaving Guernsey to enter the Hon. East India Company's
service, Major-General W. Napier bore this testimony to his character:
"I think he will be an acquisition to any service. His education, his
ability, his zeal to make himself acquainted with military matters,
gave me the greatest satisfaction during his service with the
militia."