About the time I was struck a similar assault was committed upon the surgeon[127] of the 3rd Light Dragoons, occupying barracks also at Wuzzeerabad. He took steps to have an inquiry made into the mental condition of his assailant. On that inquiry I sat as president, and this is the substance of the story told me by the man. From the time when he first enlisted he had been haunted by visions of a murder committed by himself and his “pal” on Wandsworth Common in 1845; he made every endeavour to get killed while charging the Sikhs in battle; he had committed offences so that he might be taken to the guard room, and thence made pretended attempts to escape in the hope of being cut down by the sentry; but failing in all these he had struck the officer, in order that for so doing he might be tried, condemned, and shot. These particulars were duly entered in the report submitted to the authorities; meanwhile, the regiment to which he belonged received its orders for home, and left the station, taking with it as prisoner this unhappy man. It was not till long thereafter that the sequel of his story was heard of.
The death of the “Iron Duke” of Wellington, news of which was received early in November, was made the text of remark and discussion, the official acts and demeanour of His Grace towards officers and the army generally being looked at from different and at times directly opposite points of view,—the impression which seemed most generally to prevail being that although no one denied him the credit of great services performed in the first fifteen years of the century, yet for many years thereafter he had been “past his work”—a commentary which bears interpretation in more ways than one. It cannot be said that many signs of mourning for his loss were apparent.
Early in 1853 English papers brought news among other matters that Louis Napoleon had been recognised as Emperor by the Powers of Europe, though not with good grace, that a suspicion existed of a possible attempt at invasion was under consideration, an order for the concentration of troops of the regular army and militia at particular points being the outcome of that suspicion. Another item in those papers reads strangely while these notes are being transcribed, and conditions alluded to have developed in significance; namely, “The influence of the lower orders is fast on the increase, and altogether we seem to be on the eve of a crisis, the ultimate issue of which it is impossible to predict.” Shortly thereafter came news of the Emperor’s marriage to a Spanish lady,[128] his personal popularity in the army not enhanced thereby. According to Indian journals, overtures had been made to the British Resident at Moorshedabad, by Sirdars of Affghanistan with a view to approach Government on the subject of taking over that kingdom. The truth or otherwise of the report did not transpire; but that the rumour was current was itself a suggestive circumstance.
As the hot season advanced, snakes, poisonous and otherwise, became numerous in cantonments. A sepoy while asleep was bitten by one of those reptiles. He soon became unconscious; blood oozed from two small punctures on the instep where he had been bitten, from his mouth, nostrils, and from under his finger-nails.[129] He was treated by means of large doses of ammonia and turpentine, and ultimately recovered.
Prowling beasts of prey made night hideous. On one occasion much alarm was occasioned by one of them becoming “rabid,” rushing violently at and biting animals and people. Considerable numbers of both were so injured by the pariah dog; some of those bitten were treated, some not, but no specific results followed the injuries. In the bazaars within cantonments prowling jackals and wolves were so many dangers to infants asleep on charpoys at night; some instances occurred in which they were carried away and devoured by the larger animals mentioned.
The conditions of a soldier’s life in India at the time alluded to were calculated rather to weary than enliven him. The climate ill suited for out-of-door exercise; many of the men unable to read, and disinclined to learn; their two resources the bazaar and the canteen; their tastes and pursuits animal; mind a blank; the body a ready prey to disease. Absolutely no good result was to be gained from official reports on these points, and suggestions for improvements. I addressed letters to the journals in the hope of enlisting attention in favour of station reading rooms, lecture rooms, etc., but with the result that little notice was taken of my representations.
In the 10th Regiment itself, through the action of two or three officers, some of the soldiers enrolled their names as members of a “Mutual Improvement Society.” Meetings were held; tea and other light refreshments served in view to attracting men; lectures and demonstrations given on such subjects as Forts and Battles mentioned in the Bible,[130] Strata of the Earth’s Surface, Uses of the Human Body; classes for reading and writing also set on foot. Not long thereafter, a General Officer,[131] by order of the Commander-in-Chief,[132] arrived at Wuzzeerabad “to put a stop to so dangerous an association.” Military opinion was not then ripened for the innovation.
After some delay, and with considerable difficulty, a Book Club for the soldiers was launched in the regiment; the officers were already well provided in that respect. As with the one class, so with the other, works on “service” subjects were mostly read, but intellectual occupation was thus available whereby to pass the weary and exhausting days of the hot season. [Recollecting these endeavours made by a small number of us in 1853 to advance the intellectual condition of the British soldier in India, the few of us who still live attach suggestive significance to the extract now given from the most interesting work by Lord Roberts, entitled Forty-one Years in India.[133] Under the date 1887 he wrote: “My name appeared in the Jubilee Gazette as having been given the Grand Cross of the Indian Empire, but what I valued still more was the acceptance by the Government of India of my strong recommendation for the establishment of a Club or Institute in every British regiment and battery in India. Lord Dufferin’s Government met my views in the most liberal spirit, and, with the sanction of Lord Cross, ‘The Regimental Institute’ became a recognised establishment.”]
The second hot season of our residence at Wuzzeerabad proved even more severe than the first upon the health of our soldiers, large numbers of whom suffered from illness special to the climate and locality. Unfortunately for those so prostrated, the apathy and indifference of the native servants connected with the hospital were such that many lives were thus sacrificed which under more favourable circumstances would in all probability have been saved. For example:—A soldier in barracks, during the hottest hours of the day, is discovered by his comrades to be seized with heat apoplexy, or to be suffering from the scarcely less alarming symptoms of ardent fever. He is by them placed in a dooly and so dispatched to hospital. The bearers who carry him are indifferent to life and suffering among themselves, but if possible more so in respect to the white man, and so their pace is by no means rapid. They reach the “surgery”; but there, if they find no one present, they put their dooly down, while they themselves sit in the verandah to smoke, perhaps to sleep. After an interval more or less long, the presence of the sick—it may be unconscious—soldier is discovered; the circumstance, after another interval, comes, or is brought to the knowledge of the subordinate, who, just roused from his siesta, and considerably narcotised by his “hookah,” takes time to collect his energies, and so be able to visit him. Even then the actual nature and severity of the attack is not always recognised and dealt with; so when the surgeon pays his evening visit, the patient is dead.
Among those struck down by severe illness was my dear wife, vitality brought to so low an ebb that only by holding a hand mirror to her lips and observing the slight moisture left thereon could the fact be realized that she still breathed. In this our time of trial, sympathy and aid came unexpectedly, but not from sources whence they were looked for as an outcome of services rendered. When her removal became practicable, she proceeded by dooly dâk towards Murree, then newly established as a hill station and sanatorium. Our cavalcade—for I was of the party—crossed the Chenab, partly by boat, partly by being carried through shallow water and marshy tracts. Arrived at Goojerat, the field of battle, at a little distance from the city, was found to be so overrun by vegetation as to be recognisable only by monuments to individual officers erected on spots where they had fallen. The day wore on; a messenger arrived, bringing, with “salaam from the Collector Sahib,”[134] soup and other delicacies suitable for an invalid and infants. He had heard casually that a lady, severely ill, was in the dâk bungalow; hence this outcome of kind thoughtfulness towards complete strangers to him, as we were.